Smoked Mole with Fried Mice
I was born Larry, and, although sheep, even rams, have never been particularly noted as leaders, as a result of my problems I became Lar, a leading activist in the struggle to bring about the Charter of Citizens as it exists today. On that journey, I wrote vast amounts of advisory material for government at all levels on the legislative instruments and other measures required to bring about acceptance for all, and on the therapies, rather than punitive measures, required for those who had problems accepting trans-species citizens.

Misogyny, racism, homophobia, transphobia and xenophobia are all born out of self perceived inadequacy and fear. Unaddressed all fester and become an unreasoning, self-destructive hatred, and all are mental health problems. I have spent my whole professional life, over a millennium, counselling both their perpetrators and their victims, especially the latter with species dysphoria and related issues, many of which required genetic therapy. I have no idea how many academic papers I have authored and co-authored over that time on every aspect of mental well being.

My colleagues in the psychiatric medicine faculty of the University of New Haven have asked me to write my memoires. It was not an academic paper they wanted me to write, but rather the story of my own search for identity and my early days in medicine. I was reluctant, but unscrupulously they told Ilannava and Ylva what they wanted from me. Ilannava, my faculty personal assistant and publishing agent, is a woman descended from what she describes as a long line of very pushy women, and she has been a friend of Ylva my wife for centuries. Ilannava was so pleased at the prospect of handling a non-academic work that she was unstoppable. Ylva said, “Just do it, Lar. She’ll give you no peace if you don’t.” Many things have changed as a result of the genetic advances of the last two millennia, but even the most stubborn of buffalo herd bulls still does what his cows tell him. Some things never change. My reluctance was originally because although my actions were always medically ethical, and thoroughly discussed with colleagues, some were illegal at the time.

Eventually, I decided at my age I didn’t mind what was said about what I had done so long ago, which was now not only legal, but, as a result of my work, mandatory. It may be difficult for some of you, who were born after the genetic anti-ageing treatments were well established and the modern citizens’ charter became law, to appreciate why I had any reluctance at all, but, at the age of twelve hundred and thirty-seven, I am more than ten times older than any of the generation before me lived to, but, ridiculously I know, I still carry a trace of guilt for my criminal activities. Ylva, insists I have contributed more than my share, and she feels it is time for others to continue the work, so we can give each other what remains of our time, and it is time to write it up. I am tired, and although I think she is right, and I really don’t care what anybody thinks any more, the trace of guilt still remains. Not caring what anybody thinks any more is one of the few benefits of advanced age. What you are about to read is neither academic nor advisory. It is the first outline draft of my memoires for Ilannava to look at before I continue to fill in the details. She has found a publisher for this more or less as it stands who also wants to publish the fuller document at a later date.

I was born to Eugenia and Ramesses and was named Larry, sheep always were a traditional species, and I’ve heard more Larry the lamb jokes than you can imagine exist. From a young age I had problems. I would see small scurrying creatures and be almost overwhelmed with emotions I didn’t understand and feel ravenously hungry. By the time I was old enough to be interested in ewes I didn’t find them attractive. I was much more interested in the females of a number of other species, all descended from carnivores. My father had taken me to one side for educational conversations concerning the responsibilities of a future flock ram a number of times, and I knew he was disappointed with me. It was only when several of the ewes in our flock offered themselves to me I truly realised how concerned about me the adults were. They would not have done so without first making my father aware of their belief as to its necessity. My father was the dominant flock ram, but, as in all flock, or herd species, only by the willing consent of his ewes. I couldn’t reject the ewes. I may have been a freak, but I was neither unfilial nor uncaring, and I was certainly not willing to hurt my own relatives, and flock identity and harmony were still important to me in those days, but I didn’t enjoy it either. I was an unhappy adolescent, and I was forced to reconsider my position in society, but I didn’t know enough to have any idea what my problems were.

My best childhood friend was Pooosh. I was in the same class at school as Pooosh, and she was a clever, talented and pretty kitten. Her parents wanted her to enter the family butchery business, but she was determined to go into politics, and by the time we were in late adolescence she had become a local representative. By then I was having serious mental health problems, none of my friends were sheep, and I felt uncomfortable with members of my flock, even my parents, so to avoid the problems I left home after I finished school. It was not long after when I met Vikki, a rather attractive young vixen. Vikki and I lived together for a while. The sex was good, but it is for most at that age. Vikki insisted, we were a little inebriated at the time, as a sheep I had problems, and, should seek species dysphoria counselling. I had no idea what she was talking about, but a few days later when both sober I asked her about it, and she said, “I’ve seen the way you react to small prey creatures, and you’re no sheep in your head, Larry. You need to find out what you are, and do something about it.”

I’d heard of individuals who had a different species identity in their heads from their birth species, but I had always considered it a little exotic, and I’d suspected probably hyped up by the media because it was regarded with suspicion and considered to be perverse. The media then as now were dominated by hyena cackles, and you know what the media are like, anything for a good story that will sell, and in those days trans-species individuals could be denigrated without fear of consequences because they were subject to a considerable amount of discrimination by the vast majority of citizens. Anyway, I decided to seek medical advice. I managed to get an appointment to see a psychiatrist specialising in species dysphoria three months later, but before the appointment I bumped into Pooosh. What a sexy looking queen she’d grown to be, the haunches on her made me tremble. We went for a meal and a few drinks, and, ended up in bed. That was when I realised in my head I was a feline. She made me feel more virile than I had realised was possible, and I knew I was a tom. After making love we shared a smoked mole or two and a plate of fried mice. I would never have admitted to that if any of my parents’ generation were still alive. We spent a week together, and when Pooosh returned to the city I went home to find Vikki long gone.

Had I been born with gender dysphoria, computer DNA analysis and gene manipulation coupled with donation of DNA by a female friend or relative, or even modification of my own DNA, to create a female half of my DNA, a six week course of injections and gene therapy and Larry would have walked out as Lorraine complete with mammary tissue, ovaries, skeletal changes, altered fat deposition patterns, a completely female mind set and able to bear and suckle young. It would have been routine and the authorities would have given me no problems over the matter. Had I not considered myself to be pretty enough, tall enough or whatever that too would have been taken care of without any fuss. All those sort of genetic modifications had been perfected centuries ago, when there were only human citizens, and enshrined in law as the citizen’s right to have access to. Other than to the health care professionals involved, it wasn’t even a talking point any more.

I am sure you have all been familiar since your schooldays with how our multi-species society came about as a result of human genetic manipulation of other species for human benefit. Those advances in genetic manipulation led to the augmentation of a wide range of species by straight forward computer aided gene therapy. I am equally sure you are aware the subsequent emancipation of bipedal non-humans of enhanced intellect and manipulative skills took four generations. What some of you who are descended from more solitary, or binary species may not appreciate is whilst for many species an individual, or a mated pair, is the smallest comfortable social unit, for many others, descended from flock or herd species, the need for a group identity remained. It had been one of the most powerful arguments to prevent emancipation of non-humans. It was only overcome when non-human historians discovered the concept of human extended families and that many human societies had practised polygamy, and a few polyandry. However, emancipation was long complete by the time of the explosion of civilization across the galaxy, and every planet in civilisation has been settled since by a complete cross section of citizens of all species. We were a well integrated society by the time we met the other lifeforms that had developed in the galaxy. However, I’m sure it will seem strange to you now that when I was a youngster it was trans-species citizens who were at the cutting edge of the fight against prejudice with regard to social acceptability. It certainly seemed strange to me at the time.

The clinic gave me an extremely difficult time and required more psychiatric referrals and reports. I had no choice but to jump through their hoops. Fortunately I was old enough not to need parental approval. Eventually after two years of having my head messed around by assorted members of the medical profession, most of who were weasels who thought they should have more control over my life and genes than I, I was accepted for genetic species reassignment. I’d read about the problems faced by humans centuries ago who needed gender reassignment, well believe me, the techniques may well have been genetic and not surgical as in those early days, but nothing else had changed, the weasels I met were just as arrogant and supercilious as any human surgeon could ever have been. They told me I would always be a transcat and never a cat, and despite my DNA being indistinguishable from that of any other tom I would be breaking the law if I ever even referred to myself as a cat and not a transcat. All my identity documents, which I had had to hand in to the officials prior to treatment, were destroyed, and new ones issued which had Tfeline printed in the space for species. Yes I know that may seem incredible now when all are citizens, but that was how it was.

Whilst I was at the clinic and my body and DNA were gradually changing I met Ylva, who had been a wolf bitch, but whose identity problems were going to be resolved by her becoming a transwoman. We fell in love and six months later decided to marry, and that’s when our real problems began. Ylva naturally enough wanted a family, and we spent the next year and a half pandering to the egos of the weasels and other equally arrogant and authoritarian members of the medical professions, so our DNA could be made compatible to enable Ylva to have our young. We got there in the end, but we both agreed had we known what we were facing, like many other mixed species couples and groupings, we would have gone for adoption despite the interspecies regulations enforced by the social workers, most of who were cows, and, tended to be pedantic and patronising in the extreme. Yes, they did a good job, and protection of the young was rightly their primary concern, but that didn’t make them pleasant or easy citizens to deal with.

My experiences with the medical professionals and the social workers decided me to embark upon a medical career, and in particular specialise in species dysphoria with a view to improving the entire experience for patients. I was convinced, even then, all citizens with mental health problems of whatever kind had the right to expect to be treated with consideration and tact, and it was outrageous someone with species dysphoria was not treated with the same level of care someone with gender dysphoria was treated with. I also became politically active and campaigned for changes in the law on behalf of those with mental health issues. Ylva’s experiences had had a similar effect upon her, but she decided to train as a computer analyst and modeller of genetic profiles, so as to assist in the actual process of genetic modification of patients undergoing therapy. After we had concluded our post doctoral educations, we decided to emigrate to the recently settled planet of New Haven where opportunities to contribute to society were greater and attitudes to trans-species individuals were more relaxed. Every citizen was valued on a planet that appreciated every colonist it could get, and it was made clear to us anything that promoted New Haven was welcomed and that included my political activities. As highly qualified members of the medical profession we were made to feel especially welcome. I got a job in the university teaching hospital psychiatric medicine faculty, which I have just retired from heading for more centuries than I care to remember. Ylva joined the newly formed computer modelling medical faculty, and, apart from when she took her maternity leaves, worked there till her retirement too.

Harmony, a colleague and good friend of ours who is an excellent psychotherapist of galactic reputation, was doing research into the more subtle aspects of augmentation, as the genetic changes involving non-human enhancement had become known. Augmentation for all species had resulted in a bipedal stance and gait, manipulative abilities of a high order and vastly enhanced intelligence, it had much more frequently than was appreciated by most been applied to humans too, but certain characteristics remained. That those characteristics were genetic was known because when an individual’s DNA was altered to that of another species they lost their original species’ characteristics and acquired those of their new species.

Years before, Harmony and her wife, Hannah, a child psychologist who had aurochs ancestry, had joined a large number of friends for the wedding of two of their colleagues, one of who was a distant relative of Ylva and also of lupine ancestry and the other of mixed ancestry that included orca and human. Towards the early hours, after a reasonable consumption of it must be said some excellent vintages, the topic of conversation turned good naturedly to species characteristics and a little friendly ribbing of the newly married couple. That conversation provided the impetus for the research that Harmony pursued for the rest of her life. What fascinated Harmony, and she initially had only the vaguest of explanations for, was why for instance her own species, the hyena, who were descended from ancestors that revelled in corruption, dominated the media where they still had that love of corruption. Another example she often quoted was that of the female bovines, who, much to Hannah’s irritation, were often unkindly described as being descended from an udder on legs. Like my own original family who preferred to have a flock structure instead of what others would describe as a family, the bovines preferred a herd structure. There were far more cows than bulls and like sheep, and a number of other species, they had undergone genetic therapy to ensure far more females were born than males. Harmony was interested in the preponderance of cows in the nurturing professions which they completely dominated. Hannah could never explain why she chose the profession she did, but said she knew as a young calf it was what she wished to do as an adult. Ever since the first augmentations cows had carried their much more significant mammary tissue than other species maintained, which they still proudly referred to as their udder, lower down on their torsos than other females, and, still retained four elongated teats. Their udders were part of their affirmation of self and it was only under extremes of cold they covered them. Any cow who considered her udder to be inadequately feminine automatically sought medical treatment. Hannah was as proud of her udder as every other cow and when asked about it by Harmony she’d merely shrugged her shoulders and said, “Long before my mum had conversations with me and my sisters about it, like all other heifer groupings, we were desperate to be able to shew a more adult figure so as to be able to keep the eyes of the young bull on us rather than some other heifer herd. Most year groups had three or four bulls, but ours had only one. Rory was the youngest of four brothers and Dominick his sire was a well respected bull who taught his sons to respect all cows irrespective of their age. Some young bulls thought the way to impress us enough to wish to be in their future herd was to allow their testosterone to dominate us in a way that was hateful, so we considered we were lucky, for Rory was not only kind and respectful, but like his sire and older brothers of prodigious endowment. He regularly complimented us on our udders, so we did whatever was necessary to keep his attention. Although I followed a different path as an adult he effortlessly gathered a huge herd of cows about him and I am still fond of him. We still keep in somewhat irregular contact as I do with his cows most of whom I was at school with.”

The history files tell of many different kinds of humans who long ago could be distinguished by their skin colour, which does seem odd as they have never had a natural coat, but eventually with the ability to move anywhere on their original planet, Earth, they intermarried and became the humans we are familiar with today with a more or less uniform skin colouration. My descendants who are of mixed human and feline DNA are continuing in that process, and I suspect one day all the species that comprise civilisation will have blended to be genetically homogeneous citizens. I suggest this because as you are aware when I was young trans-species individuals were only permitted as a result of acute psychological need, and interspecies genetic manipulation that enabled a mixed couple or grouping to have their own family was tightly controlled and restricted. Now the citizens’ charter gives all citizens the right to have the species identity that makes them happy. It also gives all couples and groupings the right to enjoy a family of their own, however they perceive that to be. The result of that will be inevitable, the rise of the new genetically homogeneous citizen. It is already noticeable flock identities are not as strong as they once were and solitary species are not as solitary as they once were.

It is gratifying Ylva and I have lived to see the complete social acceptance by citizens everywhere of what we have worked towards for so long. However, it is to be regretted it has come about in large part as a result of the new frontier in bigotry opening up before us. That frontier is based on xenophobia, and much more work to ensure tolerance of all for all has to be done. It is unfortunate the citizens are on the receiving end of that bigotry from the relatively recently encountered, but much longer established, lifeforms in the galaxy.