McKay remembered to make his voice ring just in time.
"The GHS then enthusiastically gave Earth its deserved and honored niche in galactic history. A dome, many times replaced and enlarged, was set up around the city ruins. Precious ruins, for they proved the only ones found on Earth. All else had vanished to dust. Visitors were welcomed. Earth became a shrine. In the past nine centuries, no less than twelve billions of our scattered people, from all corners of the galaxy, have made the pilgrimage here to home Earth."
Blake was close now, panting, not caring how he swung the bag. McKay was close now, too, to the end of his lecture.
"Think once, my galactic fellowmen. This we believe was New York, main metropolis of ancient Earth. The then-existing oceans are gone, the continents utterly changed and jumbled, and the day is far longer than at that time. Everything of that long past era is obliterated in dusty time, except these few ruins.
"But this is Earth. Our home planet. Our Mother World. In reverent honor to our vanished ancestors of this alpha world, we ask that you bow your heads in silent tribute for a moment."
Blake had just reached the rostrum and was yelling, "Hey, Mr. Speaker. I'm Lem Blake and I got something to show you—"
Blake froze in horror even as his weak voice rang out like a gong in the pin-drop silence that had just fallen. But what did it matter now? He leaped on the rostrum before the startled lecturer.
"Listen," said Blake hurriedly. "Listen what I found—"
"Shut up," hissed McKay, snapping off the sound system. "Nothing like this happened in 900 years, a lecture interrupted. You fool. Don't ruin it all for them. See me later."