The world held its breath as the Russian cosmonaut's ass wiggled in the oscillating portal like a cork in a bottle. A panicked ceremony was held, a general crowning the ass the first hero of the new Russian Interstellar Federation, while behind him, amidst the sparks of exploding capacitors, scientists had begun trying to wrestle the trapped cosmonaut out of the portal, though they appeared undecided on whether they were pushing or pulling.

Someone wedged their boot in the man's scaled crack, propelling the cosmonaut through the tiny portal a second before it snapped shut. The world heaved a collective sigh.

That evening, the Administrator of NASA gave his public response. He was sweating.

"Let me just start by saying, there is no 'Second Space Race.' There are over 100 sextillion planets in the universe - I hardly think the American government would be concerned with Russia claiming one! We have, and always will, worked in cooperation with our international scientific partners. And anyway, even if it were a race, which it isn’t, the goal was the first man to stand on an alien world. I didn’t see a man, did you? Nor any 'standing' for that matter."

He tugged at his tight collar.

"'For all mankind'. That's what we believe. 'Mankind'. NASA will continue to explore every avenue for passing a man beyond the Planck threshold, but without the sacrifice of our humanity. Nor by risking the safety of our best and brightest. That is all we have to say at this time. Thank you."

He strode off stage, fumbling with his shirt mic, muttering. "God damn Russian snakes. Assemble our best and brightest. Tell them to find a way to turn our second-best and brightest into a smooth purée."