Apollo, this is Houston. Can you read me Apollo? Apollo, this is Houston. Can you read me? Houston, this is Apollo. Read your copy. Read your copy. Roger, Roger, entering into the valley of course. Okay, Houston. Forty-seven degrees. Eleven hundred feet. Copy, Houston. Coming in. Forty-eight degrees. Roger, 22. 35. Ready for touching. Come down. Copy. Ten, nine, eight, eight, eight, eight, eight, seven, four, four, three, two, one. Conca, conca. Conca. Conca. Conca. Conca. Conca. Turn off, automatic engine. Turn off. Turn off, automatic engine. Turn off, automatic. Turn off, automatic. Prepare for just a minute. I'll just walk back and do it again. We stand on the edge of a great precipice, which separates our shell. We stand on the edge of a great precipice, which separates our shell. We stand on the edge of a great precipice, which separates our short lives from the dark reaches of a limitless outer space. 42 years ago, man walked on the lonely moon, leaving only the footprint of his soul lost in space. Oh, Camelot! Oh, best and brightest! Bright like the sun, which melted the wax of the wings of Icarus, hot like the breath of Apollo. So brave astronauts of Wall Street, please accept these silver moons, rare half-dollar coins, bearing the visit of John Fitzgerald Kennedy, who sent man to the moon with orbits through the great frontier of limitless outer space. Apollo!