I was wearing my favorite dangly earrings that looked like a tiny model of the solar system with only 3 planets. I had a three-quarter sleeved top that showed off my breasts that were small and yet seemed to fit my frame. I heard loud voices behind me and turned to see what the commotion was about and saw my mother and sisters coming toward me, shouting and pointing at me. I covered my face and yelled nooooooo.

---

 
 
Part 1

I was floating. At least in my bunk and only as far as the restraining sheet would allow. I suppose that the transport was in between powered flight and docked at the end of the sky bridge. I should have been asleep but the dream that visits me whenever I am fearful, uncertain, looking into the abyss or otherwise about to set out on a journey to into the unknown had launched me from sleep to wide awake in an instant. I was in line at some sort of small eatery. I looked at my reflection in the mirror behind the counter and was pleased. My short-ish, boy-ish hair had a single curl that outlined my right eye. My makeup was a retro-look with deep red lips and well defined eyes. I was wearing my favorite dangly earrings that looked a tiny model of the solar system with only 3 planets. I had a three-quarter sleeved top that showed off my breasts that were small and yet seemed to fit my frame. I was wondering why my order was taking so long. I heard loud voices behind me and turned to see what the commotion was about and saw my mother and sisters coming toward me, shouting and pointing at me. I covered my face and yelled nooooooo.

I always wake up at the same place, just when my family confronts me with questions about why I look like a girl, what is wrong with me? Don’t I know how this looks? Don’t I know what people will say? What it will do to the family?

That’s when I run from sleep. I fussed around my compartment and organized my things. I put them, as per the instructions on the hard cases, in the indicated slots, shut the bags and re-checked the nametags. Evans, W. L./ T.I./ B.I. 2051/ Co. D./ Camp Lang. At 05:30 ship time the vid-panel on the compartment door lit up and announced “Recruit Evans stand by to debark. Follow the color coded guide lights to the coach for descent to the surface.” It was time to take the final steps from the civilian rat-race to the life-and-death business of being a bottom rung member of the Federation Space Forces on Smithson. I ‘knew’ what I was getting into, at least at the level of an outsider but I was about to find out the on-the-ground reality. I was willingly going to subject myself to the tests and trials that I hopped would let me find out just who I was and what I could be. Looking back, I really had no idea just how much I would learn about who I am and what I could do.

Hurry up and wait. I think I read or heard somewhere that this is the most fundamental, most common part of every military since the formation of first company of cavemen. It has not changed. We waited in the couches in the lounge as we slid down the carbon cable from orbit to the surface. We waited for transport to the base. We waited in the auditorium until the officers came in and told us what we were going to do today and for the next year. It turns out that I cherish waiting, now I long for a few minutes of down time. Who knew?

Funny enough, the first thing the FSF wanted to know was just who I was, what I knew and what I could do. I hoped that in the process I might find out too. First came the demographics. I found myself standing in only my skin in a cylinder being scanned and measured: Recruit Trooper William Lee Evans, 60 Kg, 190 Cm (130lb/6’3”). I looked at the ghost of my reflection in the walls of the cylinder. I looked even thinner than I was in a mirror; more like my mental body image. My male parts were so small and had retreated so much due to the chilly temperature as to be missing altogether. No wonder I had an identity problem. Every night in assessment center the Dream was a frequent visitor. I was glad to have a room to myself.

I found that I was medically in good shape. I found out (already knew) that I was more emotive, creative and intuitive than 90% of the human male population. I found that I was only as strong as the weakest 10% of the human male population (I already suspected this). The test revealed that I could learn and come to grips with difficult and unusual concepts, although I thought my early education assessments would have shown that.

The psychological inventories and interviews were exhausting. Of course the game is to only show those traits and tendencies that put you in the best possible light (really, I’m not crazy or a psychopath) and their task is to see through the obfuscations. All I could hope was that I didn’t come out looking like two people.

After 20 days of this analysis apparently I was deemed useful to the FSF and given a seat on an atmospheric transport to Camp Cynthia Ling, a small piece of hell on Smithson.

 

*          *          *
 
My sister Cho and I were at a park near our home in mid summer. I was in my mid teens and she was going to go off to university in the fall. We had been coming to exercise using the circuit training stops as well as running laps on the trails and walkways through the park. I was face down on the ground stretching when from behind me I heard an obnoxious snarl.

“What is it? It doesn’t have big boobs but it looks like a girl!” came from a boy who was talking to his pack of three thugs who laughed and pushed and punched each other in the arm. ”She’s got a nice body and really long legs. I think she wants it doggy style” he said.

I ignored him. I kept my head still as I swept what I could see with my eyes looking for the best direction to get away. If I could get a few steps on them I thought I could get away.

“I wonder if it’s a deaf mute? I wonder if it just needs some of this?” he said as he grabbed his crotch.

I pulled my feet under my knees, grabbed a couple of hands-full of dirt and got ready to run.

“Is there a problem miss?” asked a voice from someone I couldn’t see.

“I hope not” was all I could say and turned around to find a Municipal Peacekeeper and Cho standing behind the thugs.

“Why don’t you fellows move on to somewhere other than the park?” suggested the peacekeeper.

“Thank you officer,” said my sister. “I saw those four watching us the last time we ran through this part of the trail.”

We finished our workout and as we walked home I said “I’m sure glad the officer stopped those jerks before they got a chance to do anything.”

“I saw them coming our way and while you were working on the bars, I went looking for a peacekeeper and luckily found one coming into the park” said Cho.

“Do I look like a girl?” I asked

“Well, with your hair in a pony tail and those loose sweats, you do look more girlish than guyish. But for you I don’t think that’s a bad thing,” she said

“What do you mean? I’m a guy aren’t I?” I said

“Yes, but I think inside there’s a lot of girl in you,” said Cho.

I didn’t say anything in response, just thought back on our days when we were all girls together playing in our yard.

Did really want to be a girl? Was I unhappy being a boy? I couldn’t work out my feelings in answer to my question. I did envy my sisters curvy bodies; mine was like a stick figure. I found the parts hanging between my legs a bother, except when I gave my self pleasure, but my sisters could do that too and didn’t have thing flopping around where they could get hurt.

I realized several things that day. I had to pay attention to my surroundings or I could be seriously injured. I didn’t want to turn into a typical ego-on-legs male and I wasn’t sure if I wanted to be a woman but I was more attracted to them than to guys. I might be somewhat sexually attracted to guys.

Maybe if I went out into the universe and pushed myself I would find out who and what I really am.

Be careful what you wish for.

 

*          *          *
 
I was the third child in my family. I have two sisters: Cho, +3 years and Zoey, +6 years older. They were sufficiently older so that I was more of a play-toy than a playmate. They were happy to have a live, live-in dress-up doll. I was happy to be dressed just like they were. Cho and Zoey called me Lee because they said that William was too boyish when I was dressed in a smock or sundress. Mom didn’t seem to mind, but she was busy at work in her studio and didn’t care what we did as long as we didn’t interrupt her. Father was a donor with promising genetic markers.

I was heartbroken when mom made me stop wearing my girls clothes when I went out of the house. She told me that other people would get mad at me for not looking and acting like a boy should. It is interesting how a few words from someone you love and look up to for guidance and protection can affect your life.

Our “house” on base held 40 troops: 22 females and 18 males. I had never seen so many geeky, skinny people in one place. It was like all of the guys leftover from a dozen pick-up flag-tag games decided to show up in one place. The funny thing to me at the time was that all of us, male and female, were of similar body type. Another thing was that there wasn’t the male-female tension that you might expect when so many bodies share minimalist living conditions. After the first week we all had seen plenty of each other in our underwear and believe me there wasn’t much to see. The largest breast was a modest B cup. The largest “package” could have been mailed in a small manila envelope.

We were all from human settlements: Earth, Mars, Luna, New Hope, Stewart, Persia and the Lagrange habitats from several systems. All of us came from near 1G planets so there wasn’t much difference in our nascent physical abilities. The drill instructors set about changing that. We ran and walked and ran and swam and ran and pushed-up and ran and pulled-up and ran and slithered and ran and crawled and ran. I have never before or since expended so much energy, consumed so many calories and physically changed so little.

Next we entered close confinement conditioning (CCC) A.K.A. the tubes. We thought we were turning into human hamsters because we spent so many hours crawling through tubes of varying sizes from those that you could walk in to those that you had to inch-worm through with your arms stretched out like you were diving into a pool. To make things more interesting, as we became faster (hamsters?) humsters, the tubes became mazes and we had to get through them in groups rather that as individuals. About the time you felt you got the hang of things, “variations” were introduced: blinding light to total darkness; cold that went from freezing to 1st degree burns; 0G to 3G oriented apparently randomly. This was not a place for the claustrophobic. We lost five of our number due to the tubes.

Of course we were not physically ready for these types of activities. At first I thought the pain would kill me outright. That’s when I really got to know my bunkmates. Sean claimed that he had been through some of this before and assured me that I would survive (I ha’m’doots). Suaad passed out vitamin C and herbal creams that revived us for another day. Surviving suffering builds trust and friendships and we begin to tell and listen to each other’s stories. Also the phrase you rub my back and I’ll rub your became a reality. It went beyond message therapy for the pain, knots and cramps. Being gently stroked, rubbed, caressed and brushed does wonders for the psyche. It kept me going when I wanted to run away — how could I do that to Suaad or Sean, they were depending on me as I depended on both of them.

One night just after lights-out, Suaad whispered: “Lee are you awake?”

“Yes, I hurt too much to get comfortable,” I whispered back.

“Would you rub out the knots in my back and legs? I’ll return the favor,” she whispered.

I slid out of my bunk and knelt down next to her bed.

“Do you have any thing to rub into your muscles?” I asked.

“Here, use this. I’ve been holding the tube next to me to warm up,” she said.

I squeezed some into my hand and then reached under her coverlet to start on her shoulders and back. I kneaded her shoulders and up and down her spine paying attention to her soft grunts and intake of breath.

“Now work on my legs,” she whispered.

I started with her butt and worked down to her feet and was rewarded with “Mmmms” of pleasure. I didn’t think anything of not finding any clothing getting in the way of my massage. After about 30 minutes of this I had rubbed her for top to toe.

“Get out of your shorts and lay on your front,” she said,

I did and she returned the favor. I somehow ended up in Suaad’s pants, I mean her underwear and she in mine. We both had SEGs (Sh.. Eating Grins) the next morning as we exchanged garments. I enjoyed sleeping in her panties, it reminded of childhood joys.

 

*          *          *
 
Sean Gunn was a “wee stick” of a lad who was 10 Cm shorter than me and 2 Cm shorter than Suaad. He was more like the caber than the highlander who tosses it. He said he was yet one more in a very long line of Gunns who made the military their vocation, going all the way back to the highlanders in Earth’s history (or so he claimed). Suaad was from Persia and was in the FSF so she could have a clean break from the repressive culture that had been transplanted and distilled on Persia from the middle east of Earth.

The hours when we weren’t doing PT, we were learning the rules, regulations, customs and history of the FSF and the Earth-based military that was its precursor. Oh yea, there was a lot of time learning-by-doing on how to make everything FSF clean and in FSF shape. It wasn’t enough to keep your own gear in FSF shape you had to keep an eye on every thing. The Drill Instructors went out of their way to find any reason to add extra PT or cleaning to everyone to drive home the message that we had to work together and figure a way to get everyone to pull together as well as pull their weight.

We started weapons training the second week, both armed and unarmed, with low and high tech tools to kill and maim. I wished that I had known some of the simpler unarmed techniques when I was in my early teens when I was the subject of guys who seemed to be looking for someone to use as contrast to prove their manhood. The contrast between the ancient hand-to-hand techniques and the super high tech smart weapon made for mental whiplash. Sean was 2nd best shooter and Suaad was tops in unarmed techniques. It turns out I have an affinity to edged weapons and sticks. We had 3 more dropouts who didn’t meet the minimum qualifications for weapons and unarmed combat.

We didn’t have any badass drill instructors all through boot training. We did have exacting taskmasters. They were effective at getting us to do what they wanted and only rarely had to raise their voice. We learned early on that happy, or at least not displeased sergeants, meant more time to recover from the extreme physical exertions.

I wasn’t visited by the Dream, I didn’t recall dreaming at all during the whole of boot camp.

D company, 2051 Instructional Battalion graduated 32 Troopers. Eight of our members left on their own or were injured and sent back into the training battalion. The rest of us were sent to specialization schools to learn how to use and maintain heavy weapons, communications, surveillance and field medical systems. The idea is that everyone should be qualified to operate at least two systems.
 

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To Be Continued...
 

 
 
The first night in the mountains I realized that we had not planned very well. We had covered about 25 Km and work up a sweat doing it. That night the temperature dropped below water’s freezing point and we ended up in joined sleeping bags bodies pressed together to conserve heat.

---

 
 
Part 2

We moved into barracks that were arranged in two-beds per room and four rooms per bathroom/shower. There were two study stations with holo I/O and limited net connections. Sean and I had one room; Suaad and Jo Two-Trees, another survivor of 2051D, were in another. The troops in the other rooms in our quad were from 2051E, another boot company. The wall next to our beds could display images to provide some little bit personal decoration. I had set up a series of windows showing scenes from New Hope, my home planet. Sean had images from the mountains (he called them highlands) of Stewart.

For the next quarter one or two days per 5-day was spent in field problems in all sorts of terrain and the remainder in classes such as Xeno-Cultures, Comm Methods, Ships Systems and a nonhuman language. I got to learn Howler. That’s what we called the language of the m’Gock, one of the first xeno-cultures human-kind came across on our trip to the stars. They are warm-blooded, mammalian in that they give birth to live young. They are ambi-gendered: depending on the circumstances any m’Gock can gestate and deliver baby mGock. They look like giant Howler monkeys in clothes and jewelry. They are very even-tempered, gregarious vegetarians and specialize in first contacts. That’s why they were waiting for us when our first exploratory ship emerged from fold space.

For the first time since setting foot on Smithson, we had down time: 2 days (20 hrs) off every 8th day. I was anxious to keep in shape and hitched rides on hoppers into the range of mountains on the military reservation so that I could hike and camp in the thinner atmosphere. I asked for companions for my outings from our quad. Sean went with me for the first two times. He said the mountains reminded him of home.

The first night in the mountains I realized that we had not planned very well. We had covered about 25 Km and work up a sweat doing it. That night the temperature dropped below water’s freezing point and we ended up in joined sleeping bags bodies pressed together to conserve heat. I enjoyed the closeness and I thought Sean did as well because one of his hands was on my hip as we slept like spoons in a drawer. He was very quiet as we hiked back to our pickup point. I guessed that he wasn’t comfortable with our sleeping arrangements. I didn’t press him because I thought that he’d talk about it when he worked through it.

However on our second trip, Sean insisted that we pack warmer gear in separate bags.

Suaad and Jo joined me on the next hike, this time to a high desert area. I made sure that we had plenty of the right gear.

I planned for us to cover about 20 Km from the drop point to a crater lake where we would swim and hike around the lake before coming back to the pickup point the next evening.

We started off walking at an easy pace so that we could warm our muscles and stretch them before confronting the 300 m rise to the valley where we would camp.

“Should I call you William, Will, Bill, Lee or what?” asked Jo as we settled into a ground covering pace.

“That depends” I said “When I got called William I knew I was in trouble. My sisters called me Lee. No one has ever called me Will or Bill. I don’t care, just don’t call me late for chow.”

“Why don’t we use Lee like your sisters do?” Asked Suaad.

“That’s fine by me” I said.

Neither Suaad nor Jo had brothers but Jo had two sisters: one older one younger and Suaad four older sisters.

“Why do so many guys have sexy legs?” asked Jo.

“I think we worry our legs into strange shapes. Guys don’t think about theirs at all and they look great.” Said Suaad.

“Since I don’t shave my legs, I don’t spend much time looking at them or running my hands over them.” I said

“I could do that for you — running my hands over your legs.” Said Jo.

“I can tell you that he feels good from first hand experience,” said Suaad with a jiggle.

“I think we have about 10K to go before I need a rub down,” I replied

“Lead on,” said Suaad

“We’ll be right behind you enjoying the view,” teased Jo

I had never been the object on anyone’s attention and hoped that my tanned skin hid my blush as I felt the blood rush to my face.

We arrived at the lake shore about solar noon or 1230 FSFT, got our our HUTs (Habitat, Universal, Trooper) linked them together and set about putting together a meal from MRE plus spices and condiments to make them tolerable. A walk around the lake was in order to aid digestion and see what was around the bend.

“There’s fish in our lake! Earth variety Bass and pan fish!” It looked like Jo was almost ready to jump in after them as she announced her discovery.

“What else would you expect from a Terra-forming operation?” I asked. Smithson had been a geologically mature liken- and algae-covered orb a few hundred years ago when the Federation Exploration Service (FES) stumbled on it and started the process to make it fit for oxygen breathing, moderate temperature tolerating beings.

The result of her discovery was 6 fish of various sizes and species became the main dish of our evening meal in place of reconstituted something in the MREs. The way the fish came to the meal was very interesting indeed.

Just after she made the announcement of the presence of bass, Jo took off for a strand of trees that went down to the water’s edge. She collected several long skinny sticks, sharpened an end to a point on each and handed Suaad and me a couple and said “lets go get supper.” And stripped to her skin and headed for the lake. Suaad and I looked at each other, I shrugged and got out of my clothes and she did likewise and we followed Jo into the water.

“OK, just what are we going to do with these sticks?” I asked.

“Spear fish” was Jo’s response as she dove under water.

It turns out that fish that have never seen a human don’t know how dangerous a predator we are. The result was a good super of fish baked over a bed of coals.

The lake water was cold and although refreshing, it was good to get out and head back to camp. I was last out and as I started to dress I noticed that I had panties and short shorts, looked up and saw Jo and Suaad grinning at me. Two (or more) can play the teasing game so I pulled on Jo’s clothes and my shoes and grinned back.

“He is special,” Jo said to Suaad. “I told you so” was her reply as we walked back to camp.

I couldn’t have gotten away with calling their bluff if Jo wasn’t close to my size, but she was and I to the chance to try to pull it off.

It is amazing how close the stars look on a clear night in a place with no light pollution. We lay on our back and talked about our homes and families and what we expected to get from our hitch in FSF.

“Females are just another form of livestock on Persia” was Suaad’s comment.

“You can’t mean that” was my response.

“Do you know what female circumcision is?” she asked?

I was baffled; I had no idea what part of a woman could be circumcised. I had studied female anatomy and a little first hand experience from show-me-yours-I’ll-show-you-mine with my sisters, but what was the skin to be cut off?

“No I don’t,” I admitted

“Take off your underpants,” she ordered me as she started to strip out of her clothes as well.

She came over to me and said; “may I touch you?”

“Sure.” I said. I trusted her completely and was curious to see what she was going to do.

She put a lamp between my legs, reached for my penis and at her touch it started to enlarge. She smiled but said “You aren’t circumcised; see how the skin covers the tip?” I nodded.

“If I pull the skin up and cut it here.” She mimicked a scissors cutting the skin with fingers of her other hand and I reflexively winced.

Then she faced me and opened her legs, arranged the lamp to shine on her crotch and tugged at the hood of skin over her clitoris and repeated the scissors cutting motion on the raised skin.

My eyes must have been big as saucers. I know my mouth had formed an “ooww” as in NO!

“This was my choice: Stay at home and eventually have my ability to have pleasurable sensations before I was forced to marry someone I had never met, who could beat, abandon or even kill me on a whim or leave. I didn’t want to trade one form of hopeless situation for another; which is what would happen if I joined any off-Persia workforce as an unskilled, uneducated worker drone. The FSF gives me the chance to make my own future,” Suaad said as she lay back on her sleeping pad.

“When peoples cut themselves off from the mother, the Creator, they take out their pain and frustrations on those close to hand,” Jo said in the silence that followed.

“On Pueblo we believe that every thing and everyone has a purpose, a reason for being, an intrinsic value, something to offer the world that no other can provide,” she said.

I was amazed at this sophisticated philosophy.

“What about you pretty boy? Why are you here?” Jo asked and I could see her teeth reflect the lamp light as she smiled.

“I want to find out who I am. I know that sounds lame but that’s it,” I said

“I was wondering the same thing the first week of boot too. Is it a boy or girl? It talks and moves sometimes like a boy and sometimes like a girl. Then I thought, so what? What kind of person is this? So I asked Suaad,” Said Jo

“I told her you were OK. In fact better than OK, you were aware of the people around you and what was happening to them and tried to make things better. You let your feelings show. I mean more than just fear, frustration or humor. Those times when you were just there, when you gently squeezed my arm or smiled at me. I wondered whether you were a psychopath or a for-real nice person. As I got to know you I figured out that you are a nice person.” As Suaad said this she moved beside me and put her arms around me. As I reached my arms around her I felt Jo’s arm come around me and saw the other go around Suaad.

We spent the rest of the evening touching, rubbing, kissing and sometimes licking each other. We did get a few hours of sleep.

The next morning Jo asked: “Would you like to wear some of my clothes?”

“Do you want to wear some of mine?” I replied.

“Yes,” she said.

“Then yes for me too,” I said.

We traded shorts and underwear and Jo handed me a sports bra.

For the first time in a long time I felt at peace as we hiked back to the pick-up point. I was reluctant to return her clothing when we stopped a few klicks short of the outpost where we would find our ride.

“Let’s just swap shorts, you can give me the rest when we get back to our quad” was Jo’s answer.

 

*          *          *
 

The thing about aliens is that they are, well, alien.

“M’Evans, do you know of any alien cultures on old Earth?”

The question was directed at me by Dr. T’Bahn Pligree, an M’Gock who was lecturing on the characteristic of zeno-cultures.

“I know that almost all of the members of the Confederation of Worlds has a contingent on Earth,” was my response.

“Yes but I said OLD Earth, I meant pre-interstellar travel Earth,” he said.

“I don’t recall hearing of any alien cultures in Earth’s history,” I said.

“Do you have any knowledge of the perspectives of both the expanding cultures and those visited by these 'explorers' in the second millennia C.E. on Earth?” M’T’Bahn prompted.

A light went on in my brain — alien is relative and doesn’t have to be extra-terrestrial. I remembered that in the vids and other materials we were assigned to review told of how, back on Earth, there were thousands and thousands of different cultures and of the difficulties of one culture had understanding the forces shaping another.

“What was one of the fundamental difficulties that impeded the efforts of the North American country, the United States of America, in the 20th and 21st centuries to establish and maintain colonialism on economically smaller countries?” he asked.

“According to what I learned in the course materials, the cultural differences in social organizations such as family and tribe; implicit social hierarchy and indigenous economic structures were pretty much ignored and as a result, in the long run the pre-conflict cultures prevailed.” was my text-book response.

“Say that in Standard,” M’T’Bahn said and seemed to hick-up, which is how M’Gock laughter sounds.

“Well, it looks like there were two conflicts going on. The military conflict where the local forces had the advantage due to knowledge of terrain and the motivation to drive off the invader and the culture war where again the external force was at a disadvantage because it didn’t offer solutions to the needs of the local peoples that meshed with the ways things were always done.” I said.

“Better, but why didn’t occupying a territory cause it to conform to the wishes of the occupying force?” He asked.

“I don’t know,” was my response.

“When one looks at this conquest and occupy strategy, in every case, eventually the pre-existing cultures re-established their supremacy, even if it takes nearly a century to do so. Indigenous cultures that are long lived have addressed and found solutions to the primary questions of survival for that people so when outsiders 'take control' and try to implement changes, unless they meet the same survival issues, they are ignored and-or resisted,” Dr. T’Bahn said.

“The first step to understanding any culture is to learn how that culture addresses the basic requirements for sustaining the culture. First is the survival of the species from generation to generation. Next is the survival of the ecosystem in which the culture exists. There are an almost infinite number of variations that address these issues. The means and ways that a culture solves these requirements form the foundations upon which the culture is built,” he continued.

“Why does a desert culture or a tropical island culture have their particular worldview? The answers can be found in the way resources needed to survive are consumed and as well as conserved within the boundaries of the ecosystem and also the interface with neighboring cultures.

Dr. T'Bahn paused, noticing the puzzled look on my face. I thought I understood him, but I was slow to feel the full impact of his explanation.

“I see you're still wondering, my friend,” he said.

Then he continued:

“Look at my people, the M’Gock for example. They come from a planet that was originally 90% covered by what would be called tropical jungle on Earth. The effort needed to collect sufficient food and shelter for the procreating unit, the extended family in this case from 5 to 10 adults and an equal number of young, was about 4 time units per day. This left a lot of time for other things and according to our histories; it took a several near-extinction events to cause us to produce a means to include population limitations as a necessary component of the family and therefore species survival.”

His voice grew more serious; now, I felt, he was getting to the nub of the matter.

“The basic way that my species dealt with this issue was an evolutionary adaption: we change genders. As the number of offspring approaches the number of adults in the family, the gender of the group becomes homogenous, either all male or female. If there is sufficient external pressure from neighboring families, then the move is to male gender, if the local resources would lead to prolific procreation, the family unit becomes female to enable the nurturing of both the family members and the ecosystem as well.

“Although you humans may think this a most bizarre arrangement, we don’t understand why every species hasn’t come to this arrangement.

“This trait informs our every concept and stereotype and is the basis for our perspective of the universe. In fact we see human’s duality of gender as an evolutionary defect,” he concluded.

The sessions with Dr. T’Bahn didn’t break my stereotypes as much as illuminated them, which also revealed their limits. Stereotypes are good to have otherwise everything you encounter would have to be examined and fit into the way we understand the world. If you had to do that for everything you encounter you would quickly succumb to sensory and cognitive overload. The thing is to recognize when you use stereotype filter and recognize its limits.

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To Be Continued...