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Indeed The Early History Of Rocket Design Could Be Read As The Simple Desire To Get The Rocket To Function Long Enough To Give An Opportunity To Discover Where The Failure Occurred. Most Early Debacles Were So Benighted That Rocket Engineers Could Have Been Forgiven For Daubing The Blood Of A Virgin Goat On The Orifice Of The Firing Chamber.

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Armstrong, Sitting In The Commander's Seat, Spacesuit On, Helmet On, Plugged Into Electrical And Environmental Umbilical's, Is A Man Who Is Not Only A Machine Himself In The Links Of These Networks, But Is Also A Man Sitting In (what Collins Is Later To Call) A 'mini-cathedral.' A Man Somewhat More Than A Pilot, Somewhat More Than A Superpilot, Is In Fact A Veritable High Priest Of The Forces Of Society And Scientific History Concentrated In That Mini Cathedral, A General Of The Church Of The Forces Of Technology.