In the midst of this magnificent desolation, an odd structure stands almost alone. Four metal spheres are arranged in a ring, surrounded and supported by shock-absorbing struts which themselves rest on circular pads. The whole assembly is not much taller than a man. The space between the spheres is empty. A rocket motor once fit snugly there, in a reinforced cradle; the force of its departure blasted a radio antenna from its moorings, and the dish now rests in the dust several yards away. More or less in the opposite direction, a small flag with thirteen red and white bars and thirteen stars in a circle on a dark blue canton lies where it was toppled by the liftoff.
Mounted on one of the fuel tanks (which have long since boiled dry of their dregs) is a small plaque, engraved with an image of Earth's two hemispheres and words in block capitals:
HERE MEN FROM THE PLANET EARTH
FIRST SET FOOT UPON THE MOON
JULY 1969 A.D.
THEIR COURAGE AND TRIUMPH
WILL NEVER BE FORGOTTEN
Below that are the signatures of four men, all nearly three centuries dead. Yet the footprints of two of them are still here, all around the lander's lower stage, undisturbed by wind or water.
The lander, the dish, the flag, the plaque with its boast: nothing else remains. Around these things, the dead and dusty sea stretches away to the horizon.