Greetings, Mars! I bring you gifts!
NEW SCIENTIST has a piece of Mars, but not for much longer. In May we offered readers the chance to win a genuine scrap of the Red Planet: 1.7 grams of meteorite NWA 2975, to be precise. All you had to do was tell us in 140 characters or fewer what you think the first person to set foot on Mars should say.
This meteorite doesnât have quite as colourful a story as the pieces of the Dhofar 1180 Lunar meteorite that Michael Farmer collected in Oman, before spending two months in prison there for his troubles, accused of illegal mining (see page 28). It is thought that ours is part of a meteorite that crashed into the desert in Algeria â hence the North-West Africa designation.
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NWA 2975 has been verified as a piece of Mars by Colin Pillinger and his team at the UKâs Open University, who detected pockets of gas matching the Martian atmosphere inside it and a signature excess of the isotope oxygen-17 (21 May, p 38).
We received 3592 entries for the competition. One frequent theme was expressed in 54 variations on âOne small step for woman, one giant leap for humankindâ. Another six entries had the epoch-making phrase in Chinese. Veronica White from the UK had a female Chinese taikonaut (astronaut) combine the two themes. There were half a dozen variations on âEat your heart out, Neil Armstrongâ and as many grammatical corrections of Armstrongâs 1969 lunar announcement.
We liked many of the more offbeat entries: Noelia Sanchez Gonzalez from Spain, one of our runners-up, suggests âToto, I donât think weâre in Kansas anymore.â Ken McGowan from Canada, also a runner-up, had âNow, for the first time in history, there is a face on Marsâ and runner-up Paul Leese from South Africa offered âThat was a helluva simulation Houston. Whereâs the exit door?â
Then there were entries rather looking forward to changing the face of the planet, such as US resident Martin Bancroftâs earthy âA small release of methane from a human, a giant step towards terraforming this planet for humankind.â
After a huge judging effort, we declare Richard Robinson the winner, with âGreetings, Mars residents! I bring you gifts. One thousand million assorted bacteria! Enjoy!â
Learning of his victory, Richard responds: âWell, Iâm over the moon. Possibly even farther afield than that. Is it possible to be âoverâ Mars?â
A director of the Brighton Science Festival in the UK (), Richard already has âa collection of interesting bits of rock, including a lump I picked up on a walk in the Derbyshire Peak District which I thought was fossilised wood, but turned out to be stromatolite: my bacterial forebears.â
A piece of Mars is on its way to Richard, and 51¶ŻÂț mugs go to the nine runners-up, not all of whom weâve had space to mention here.
âThe lift in Glynis Langleyâs hotel in Havana, Cuba, displayed a sign insisting âChildren Must Travel With An Accompanistâ. She would have preferred to hear their voices a capellaâ
ON TO other matters, and another in our series about gestures and their meanings (28 May). Alan Russell says thereâs one that he hasnât seen or made for years. It means âHavenât I done well!â, or, in the US, âDidnât I do well!â. It consists of loosely closing the right fist, bringing the middle finger joints to the mouth and breathing on them, then using them to rub your left lapel.
Feedback, too, can remember this gesture and we join Alan in asking: âWhat exactly was it on oneâs lapel that needed rubbing?â
READERS Tom McCudden and Philip Hanser report seeing road signs in Connecticut saying âNo permitted loads allowedâ and âPermitted loads NOT allowedâ. Neither was able to photograph these signs, but Tom sends us a photo of a similar sign that he found on the web. This one says âNo permitted trucks allowedâ (see ).
âSo presumably trucks or loads that are not permitted are allowed,â he speculates. He goes on to provide a possible explanation. ââPermittedâ, in this case,â he suggests, âmeans requiring a special permit because, for example, a hazardous cargo is being carried.â
Ah. Of course.
MEANWHILE, a lovely photo arrives from Richard Bending showing a road sign declaring firmly âKeep rightâ in green letters on a light green background and equally firmly pointing to the left.
But, our inner pedant objects, that design is in contravention of the , adopted into European Union law by on road infrastructure safety management. The sign should be white on blue.
Richard explains, disappointingly for theorists of quantum or otherwise confused signage, that the sign is at the exit to a campsite, near Saint-Quentin in northern France, used by many left-driving English.
