"This is it," Johnson warned Zeke. Every time he talked in Martian his jaw ached. It was quite a feat.
The present speaker's voice like a worn soundtrack was saying:
"... and now, waiting world, here they are...."
"Ready?" Captain Stromberg whispered.
"... the first to make a voyage to another planet! The first visitor from another world!..."
Their names being called, and then—
"... and our guest from the planet Mars—Zeke!"
Zeke shifted his undulating, boneless length as the four of them stepped out onto the platform and into the glare of flood lights, and a sea of smoke and the heat of human bodies. Johnson got the impression, though he couldn't actually see much of it, of a colossal ocean of humanity, great tides of flesh held temporarily motionless and soundless. Microphones slid down. Television and motion picture cameras moved in and back and in again.
Lawrence Spaulding, President of the United States, flanked by big-wigs from the United Nations, moved toward the four. Hands came out, gloved and grasping.
"I—" began the President of the United States. Johnson watched his lips moving but what he said was buried under the onrushing, rising, roaring flood of sound.