You might expect some excitement at a press conference to announce the discovery of life on Mars, but the scene at NASA headquarters in Washington, D.C., last August was over the top. In the front of the room, a pack of reporters and cameramen were jostling for position around the specimen, throwing elbows for a better look. A panel of scientists waited on the podium, their jet-lagged faces pasty in the glare of the tv lights. Suddenly a piercing, inhuman shriek filled the auditorium. NASA officials barked frantically from the lectern: Does anybody have a molt box? Can we hook up a molt box? Those of us on the fringe of the crush could only wonder: Was the Martian actually shedding its skin, right here on E Street? And if NASA didn’t have the equipment to handle the situation, for God’s sake, who would?
All this, before the press conference had even begun. A glitch in the sound system had left the scientists without microphones, delaying the proceedings and letting loose that screech of feedback. After the problem was solved by the connection of a mult box (a piece of electronic gear unfamiliar to this correspondent), the meeting was eventually called to order. In the meantime, the center of attraction--a meteorite which might, just might, hold within it the discovery of the century--lay before the scientists on a cushion of blue velvet, calm and composed as only a rock can be.
