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PHILOSOPHY PATHWAYS electronic journal


P H I L O S O P H Y   P A T H W A Y S                   ISSN 2043-0728

Issue No. 192
25th March 2015


Pathways News/ Sci-fi issue

I. News from Pathways and the ISFP

II. 'A Better Ray Gun' by Geoffrey Klempner

III. 'I Love Your Waspish Waist' by Geoffrey Klempner



I originally planned Issue 192 of Philosophy Pathways as a news
update. The last update was over a year ago (Issue 181, December

However, some of our readers might be disappointed with an issue
dedicated entirely to news. So I have reduced the news section a
little and included a couple of philosophical sci-fi short stories,
from a series of ten that I have been intermittently working on (see
'Possible World Machine Revisited', Issue 175, October 2012).

A few of you will have seen these. I would like to take the
opportunity to thank all of those who offered helpful comments and
criticisms. Special thanks go to ISFP Board member Sanja Ivic, who
commented on the most recent versions of the two sci-fi tales
reproduced here, 'A Better Ray Gun' and 'I Love Your Waspish Waist'.

The original brief 'flash fiction' stories have been expanded into
something more closely resembling a standard short story format. It
has been hard work, but also enjoyable. I hope that you enjoy these

Geoffrey Klempner



A new distance learning model for Pathways to Philosophy

Last summer, without any fanfare, we abolished the fees for the six
Pathways to Philosophy programs, making the courses available to all
members of the ISFP. Some of those reading this issue of Philosophy
Pathways will have joined under the new system, some of you quite
recently. Welcome to you!

Pathways has been running for 20 years. During the first three years
1995-7, course units were sent out by post in brown paper envelopes.
They went all over the world. Then Pathways was launched on the
internet. Some of the romance was lost in the phased transition from
snail mail to email but much, I believe, was also gained.

Pathways students write five short essays of around 800-1500 words
for each fifteen-unit program. Originally, I sent out a lengthy email
letter in reply to each essay, as did the other Pathways mentors. Some
of my letters are collected at Electronic Philosopher
http://electronicphilosopher.blogspot.com. The great majority of the
essays I reviewed were good or excellent: a reflection of the high
quality of students enrolling on the course.

Why shouldn't Pathways students review the work of their fellow
students? It would be perfectly feasible. The only seemingly hard
part is devising a system whereby this can be done efficiently and
with a minimum of fuss. This proved easier than expected. And so the
idea of Pathways student peer review was born.

For more details on how the new system works see:


I have also written about this on my blog, Metaphysical Journal:


Some sample Pathways essays are collected here:


If you are not yet an ISFP member, here is the application form for
ISFP membership:


If you are a former Pathways student who joined under the old system,
then you are already a life member of the ISFP. If you are not sure of
your ISFP membership number (which you will need to access the six
Pathways programs) write to me at klempner@fastmail.net.


Call for reviews: Pathways introductory book list

One of the more popular pages on the Pathways web site is the
Philosophy introductory book list:


The first item on the list is Lewis Carroll's 'Alice in Wonderland'
which was also the first book on a list I was given when I first
expressed an interest in philosophy, almost too many years ago to
remember. It still holds up well against the competition.

Among my own capsule book reviews are reviews by Pathways students
and readers of Philosophy Pathways.

New introductory books on philosophy come out nearly every month.
Some of these must be fairly decent, given the increasingly
competitive nature of academic publishing. Have you read an
introductory philosophy book that you liked that isn't on the list?
Why not tell other Pathways students and visitors to the web site?

You can send your review to me at klempner@fastmail.net. I look
forward to hearing from you!


ISFP Open Group on Facebook reaches 500 members

The ISFP Open Group on Facebook launched in 2008 by ISFP member Roger
Moore (no relation to the actor) when ISFP had just over 1400 members.

The launch of the ISFP Open Group was originally reported in our
sister publication, Philosophy for Business Issue 46:


Back in 2008, Roger wrote to me:

     'It may be a nice way to have encourage members to engage in
     discussions and to know each other better... it might catch
     the eye of Internet browsers who were in search of
     something they didn't realise existed.'

Since then, membership of the ISFP Open Group has increased at
roughly the same rate as membership of the ISFP, which currently has
1944 members. This is a rather surprising fact, given that the
overlap between ISFP and ISFP Open Group membership is not that large.

In terms of Roger's original objective, the ISFP Open Group has been
a great success. Discussions are often lively, but always friendly.
Here is the URL if you would like to join in the fun:


It goes without saying that we would love to have more ISFP Open
Members in the ISFP, and more ISFP members joining the ISFP Open
Group. Go on, do it today!


Join the panel of Ask a Philosopher

Ask a Philosopher was launched in 1999. Since then we have answered
many thousands of questions on every philosophical topic under the
sun. In 2011, a new web page was started for the latest questions and
answers at Wordpress:



To be a panel member you need to have a BA in Philosophy, or at least
be part of the way through your philosophy degree. One successfully
completed course module is the minimum. Students taking the BA in
Philosophy through the University of London International Programme
are especially welcome.

Like Philosophy Pathways, the Ask a Philosopher list is run on the
University of Sheffield List Server, although the service as such has
no connection to the University. The latest questions are sent out by
email at regular intervals. As a panel member, you are free to
respond to any of the questions that you find interesting.

You can find out more about the regular contributors to Ask a
Philosopher by clicking the links in their bylines on the Wordpress
site. If you don't have a web page, I can make one for you at

As moderator of Ask a Philosopher, I exercise a light touch. If you
make a blunder (which can happen to anyone) or if your answer isn't
quite up to the mark, I will tell you.

Like to join the panel of Ask a Philosopher? Write to me at


Become a Pathways Editor

In issue 181, I announced the appointment of the first three Editors
of Philosophy Pathways: Irwin Laya, Martin Jenkins and Sharon Kaye.

Since then, we have been joined by seven more:

Nicole Note and Pieter Meurs from the Free University, Brussels,

Eric DeJardin, a former student of mine who is studying for the BA in
Philosophy through the University of London International Programme,

Timothy E. Taylor whose book Knowing What is Good For You is featured
on the Pathways Books page, http://philosophypathways.com/index2.html

Peter Jones, another former student of mine whose ISFP Fellowship
dissertation, 'From Metaphysics to Mysticism: Exploring the Case for
a Neutral Metaphysical Position' can be found on the Pathways Essays
page, http://www.philosophypathways.com/essays/

Donovan Roebert, the South African artist and writer.

In addition, we had two special issues, dedicated to the Egyptian
philosopher Daoud Khashaba, and to Christopher Norris, Distinguished
Research Professor in Philosophy at Cardiff University and world
leading scholar on deconstruction and the work of Jacques Derrida.

Don't be put off by this elevated company: you can be a Pathways
Editor too. If you think that you might qualify, just send me an

An issue of Philosophy Pathways usually contains three articles, one
of which can (but need not be) written by yourself. As well as
choosing from the article submissions folder, you can also source
articles from colleagues or other contacts. Then, when you have made
your selection, write your Editor's Note. We will also need a short
bio for the Editor's Page:


Piece of cake!

(c) Geoffrey Klempner 2015

Email: klempner@fastmail.net



I am gazing at a photograph. The photograph is of a weapon I once
owned. It's difficult to get hold of these pictures now -- the laws
on so-called 'gun porn' are very strict -- but I just can't bring
myself to destroy the image. My sentimental side, I guess.

Wrecker, my pride and joy, was vapourised in a weapons disposal
facility according to the conditions of the Interplanetary Peace
Treaty along with the other two hundred or so known 3D prints. The
original file long destroyed. Could there be a Wrecker out there,
somewhere amongst those star-encrusted heavens?

This was a beast not to be argued with. Point and shoot. A single,
widening coil leading to a muzzle shaped like a long amphibian jaw
with multiple rows of of razor-sharp, translucent spikes. Just from
looking, it was impossible to tell whether the spikes were meant to
be functional, or a sign of the weapon designer's warped sense of
humour. Or aesthetics.

Then again, who wants a ray gun only to be functional? The sheer
scare factor can be important too. And also don't forget that
all-important feeling of confidence that comes from knowing that you
are, literally, armed to the teeth. The most effective ray gun is the
one you don't need to shoot. 'A threat is more powerful than its
execution,' as they used to say in chess before the computer
programmers cracked it.

You could see neon blue and green sparks flying around Wrecker's
mouth like drug-crazed fireflies as the coil warmed up. Made a hole
big enough for a jet bus to drive through, and that was only on the
'low' setting. You'd better be wearing a protective suit if you set the
dial to 'high'.

Wrecker had the familiar nuclear power pack that you see on so many
ray guns of that period. But it's not the power, it's what you do
with it that counts. How Wrecker did what it did, the mayhem and
destruction it could cause, you had to see and hear and smell to

There's only so much you can tell from a photograph. Photographs are
fragile and fragmentary. They tell a story, but it's only part of the
story and often not the most important part. And yet we treasure these
images as the only concrete evidence of a time that is no more.
Photographs help us to remember, and they are also like memories

I could weep.

Only one person had the original Wrecker file, my friend Karl, genius
weapons designer and amateur philosopher. 'Why do you need to arm
yourself? you could talk anyone to death,' I used to joke. A Martian,
so he told us, but everyone knows that no human being has ever lived
for any length of time on that hell hole. Who was he trying to kid?

Now Karl is dead and the Wrecker file and all the copies long gone.
Karl was hoist by one of his own cunning petards. At least, that's
the rumour that went around. I haven't completely given up hope that
Karl might turn up one day at the front door in his retro
leather-effect space suit with that quizzical look of his,


However, this story isn't about Wrecker. It's about another ray gun
Karl made. Imagine Wrecker, then multiply the effect by one million,
and you still won't be anywhere near. It is the gun that changed our
world for ever. The most powerful weapon in the Galaxy. 

We never gave it a name, so I'm just going to call it the Gun. In
time, the Gun acquired a more descriptive title which you may have
heard of. In order to appreciate what follows, all I ask is that you
keep an open mind and don't jump to conclusions. Try to forget all
that you think you know, or have heard about the Gun. Okay?

I'm only going to give the facts, nothing more.

I have a precious photograph of Karl holding the Gun, pointing it
towards the camera with a wide grin on his face. The proud father.
What was there to be proud of, exactly? The Gun didn't look like
much. A plastic tube salvaged from a bomb site with a few metal bits
stuck on. If you saw the Gun up close, as I had, it was difficult to
see how it did anything. No nuclear power pack, either. In the photo,
the Gun is even less impressive.

How wrong can you be.

Where to begin?

First of all, we need some historical context. Those were crazy
times, and the Galaxy is so different now. I'm talking of times when
you could have fun, I mean, shooting actual shit up and not just
staring at a screen, chattering about the latest funny alien pictures
or playing stupid computer games.

There's an old saying which dates back to the time when there existed
a species of Earth mammal known as 'mice'. Or, 'mouse', in the
singular. Queer name, isn't it? Well, imagine your average pet Yiarr
from Sirius Major, then reduce it by a factor of ten. That's a mouse.
Although they were sometimes kept as pets, mice were generally
regarded as a pest, much as genetically modified kiwi fruit are now,
but much faster and more difficult to catch.

The saying was, 'Build a better mouse trap and the world will beat a
path to your door.' That statement is about the economic importance
of invention. People will pay or trade for the gadget that works best
whatever it is. You don't have to come up with anything wildly
original or Earth shattering. Just an item that does its job a bit
better than the previous version. A mousetrap that's more efficient
at catching mice, for example.

That was all Karl ever wanted to do. His dream was to build a better
ray gun. 'Then we can both retire!'

I did the testing so I know the whole story, or most of it at any
rate. But don't ask me any technical details of how the Gun worked.
Karl was the brains. I just followed instructions, got rid of the
carcasses after the test firings, scrubbed away all the soot, blood
and guts and generally tried to keep the workshop as clean and tidy
as I could.

The story starts around thirty Earth years ago, the time when wave
after wave of alien invaders were making a real nuisance of
themselves. They came from just about every known inhabited planet in
the Galaxy. The inhabitants of Earth -- still mostly human beings at
that time -- found themselves right bang in the middle of an
interplanetary conflict between multitudes of alien species. A new
war every week, or so it seemed.

The aliens (it seems somehow lame to give these disparate creatures
all the same designation, but that will have to do for now) found the
Earth an ideal refuge. A place to repair your space cruiser, enjoy a
little R-and-R, hunt down a few of the locals (that was us!) and off
again into glorious battle. By this time, the Earth was an anarchic
mess. A backwater. We were virtually defenceless. Not the fault of
the aliens, we'd done it to ourselves long before they appeared.

I'm talking about known history, but maybe what you don't realise is
that the catastrophe that befell Earth wasn't the fault of the
warmongers but the peacemakers. That's what Karl used to tell me, and
I know in my bones that he was right. Warmongers like a good battle
with lots of killing, and when they are done fighting they go home to
their families and rebuild their shattered homes and cities.
Peacemakers are never satisfied. No sacrifice is too great for peace!

When the fighting ended, there were no countries left, no government,
no justice system. Just human beings making do with the scraps of
technology they could salvage, living on their wits and a square meal
every other day.

We had the military class, but they were a law unto themselves and
didn't care for anyone who wasn't military. A lot of the time they
were no better than the alien invaders. I did wonder, at times,
whether they really were human or a cunning alien species who had
come to exploit and torment us, a popular rumour at the time.

An arms race had gathered momentum between different ray gun makers,
spiced up by the fact that every time another species of alien
arrived, more often than not the old ray guns didn't work and you had
to invent something new.

When you are shooting aliens, you don't want to disintegrate your jet
car, or your swimming pool, or whatever your ray gun happens to be
pointing at, do you? -- That was a lesson humans were not slow to
learn, after early disastrous experiments.

The military had a big stake in this, although they were generally
gung ho about blasting houses, cities, or even planets on occasion.
-- I hardly need to add, the military loved the Wrecker, and stole
the design from us without even a 'thank you'. It was pretty useless
for household protection, as I've tried to explain, so wasn't that
big a loss.

Karl and I shared a workshop which we rented from a local warlord. It
was actually an abandoned police station (back from the time when they
still had police, those were the days!) but the underground cells were
useful for holding various species of captured alien, so that we could
test our ray guns on them.

You'll probably say this is cruel, but Karl said, Look at it this
way. A quick kill is much better than a lingering, agonising death.
You want your ray gun to kill efficiently, rather than inefficiently,
don't you? Unless you're a sadist who gets pleasure from causing
unnecessary pain. Which we were not, no way!

Also, the aliens who gave their lives for ray gun development got to
live a little longer than the aliens who were blasted as soon as they
touched down in their space wagons. We gathered up the survivors, fed
them, nursed them back to health, and generally tried to make their
last days in the universe as pleasant as possible. One way or another
they were going to die.

I told you Karl was a bit of a philosopher, and those are pretty good
arguments, in my book.

So, now comes the one thousand Galactic Credit question: what do you
need and want -- from a ray gun?

I've already mentioned the scare factor. Unless you are dealing with
other human beings whose psychology you know something about, you can
forget about that aspect. What looks scary to one species would be
another species' cuddly toy.

Do you want to kill, or just disable and render harmless? Either way,
what do you do with the body, dead or alive? You don't want a body
exploding, spilling guts and blood everywhere, often toxic to human
beings. Then there's the collateral damage which I've already
mentioned. An old fashioned bullet-firing pistol or rifle would be
the ideal, leaving a tidy corpse and relatively little mess -- but
completely ineffective against an alien in full battle armour. Some
aliens don't even need that, their skins are tougher than Kevlar.

The most promising line of research focuses on alien physiology. Stop
the heart, or hearts if the alien has more than one. Or some other
vital organ. Ultra-low frequency sound is one option we explored. It
worked on one particular species with spectacular effect. Their
bodies were mostly liquid, enclosed in a brittle outer shell. What a
mess! The gun was useless, of course, unless you knew in advance
which species you were going to be dealing with.

Karl and I had been working on a ray gun that disrupted
neurotransmitters. The beauty of it was that, in principle, it would
work on anything that had a brain, which as you know is nearly ninety
per cent of all intelligent life.

We were trying out the latest prototype. It was a complete dud. The
aliens we used it on seemed to become very agitated but that was
about all. The howling, grunting and the screeching was getting on my
nerves. I'd never heard anything like it, not even in the middle of a
battlefield. 'Let's get some fresh air,' Karl said and I gratefully

We were fooling around in the back yard, taking turns to aim the
prototype at various objects. The Gun made a funny 'phhhutt' sound as
you shot it, like someone spitting out a piece of chewing gum. Then,
somehow, I don't know exactly how it happened, I accidentally shot


'You stupid idio...,' Karl got as far as saying. Then a beatific
smile spread on his face.

'You are wonderful, I love you!'

Two hours later, Karl was still pounding on the door of the nuclear
waste store room where I had barricaded myself in for my own

'Listen to yourself, Karl, dammit!'

I like to think that Karl, even at the height of his frenzy, still
had a part of him that was detached and rational, and able to
comprehend what was happening to him.

Eventually Karl did calm down. And then started the lecture. Moral
Philosophy 101. Look what we have achieved. This could be the end of
all war and conflict and the beginning of a new age of universal
Love. Blah blah blah.

The rest of the story you can piece together from the news headlines.
'Love Gun inventor on the run.' 'Love Gun inventor sighted on Cygnus
Minor.' 'One Million Galactic Credits for the capture of Love Gun
inventor.' Et cetera.

There are models still around from the first hurriedly manufactured
batch of fifty. Worth a fortune on the black market. Well, yeah, I
can think of some cool uses which have nothing to do with war and
conflict, heh heh.

Naturally, the war lords weren't too happy. The cottoned on pretty
quick to what was going on and had the military kitted out in full
protection gear, their sensitive brains safely encased in
signal-jamming silicon helmets. 

But Karl had one trick up his sleeve.

A Love Gun (I'm just going to call it that, even though I hate the
word) only needs to work on one person, human or alien, it doesn't

Give each of those people a Love Gun and they each find someone to

You can't keep your protective helmet on all the time. I mean, you
have to have a shower occasionally. The logic -- hell, this was the
genius bit! -- is the logic of seduction, not the logic of warfare.
In warfare, you have to kill and keep on killing. In seduction, you
only need to find one person to seduce, then wait around for the
chain reaction.

The outcome was inevitable.

Today, universal peace reigns. We still have aliens -- far too many!
-- who find Earth an ideal holiday resort. Business is booming, and
the only deaths are from natural causes or the occasional accident
with a nuclear powered barbecue. Politically, nothing much has
changed. Who needs a government when people don't need to be
compelled to be nice to one another?

According to the Interplanetary Peace Treaty all weapons had to be
destroyed. There was a heated debate over the Love Gun, but in the
end the delegates decided it was a weapon because even though you are
doing the victim a favour and not causing any harm at all, the person
you shoot isn't given the choice.

I wish I had a time machine.

(c) Geoffrey Klempner 2015

Email: klempner@fastmail.net

A Better Ray Gun and other tall tales:



Human history is made up of great events: conflicts, battles,
revolutions, migrations. History books don't recount the lives of
ordinary people like you and me. Chances are, your name will never
appear in any history book and neither will mine. And yet everyone,
every human and alien being, thinks of his or her or its life as a
history-in-the-making, with a beginning, a middle, and eventually an

So many lives, so many histories!

Consider the first encounter with extraterrestrial beings. Much has
been written about this momentous event, its effects on every aspect
of human life -- not to mention the fact that human beings now share
this relatively small planet with members of many other alien
species. Most of the time, we get along pretty well.

I'm writing a different kind of history. It is also a love story. The
main actors in this story are two people who formed an attraction to
one another. They happen to be people I know personally. On the face
of it, falling in love is a pretty ordinary, everyday occurrence.
However, at the time, what these two people did was not ordinary. It
was a sensation, a scandal. It would not be exaggerating to say that
it shook Earth society to its foundations and nothing has been the
same since.

Now we live in a different world.

I'm not a historian, I'm a scientist. I know how to write up a lab
report or a journal article. You put questions to nature, and
sometimes, if you're lucky, nature responds in a way you didn't
expect. That's how science progresses. History doesn't work like
that. You already know what happened, at least in its broad outlines.
The historian turns a sequence of recorded happenings into a
meaningful story which, if not the complete truth, is sufficiently
close to the truth to be believable.

The story is about Jeff and his extraterrestrial partner, his 'wife'
as he called her, although at the time of writing the law still does
not recognise marriage between humans and members of other alien
species. Jeff and his partner were the first human-insectoid couple.
Much of the story you already know. But I have the privilege of being
a close friend and colleague of Jeff's, so I can tell you a few things
that you won't find in the history books.

This is a love story, as I said, but don't expect some hackneyed
account of how boy gets girl, boy loses girl, boy and girl get back
together again and live happily ever after. It's more a question of,
How on Earth did boy and girl get together in the first place?!

If you're not lucky enough to have first-hand knowledge of an
inter-species relationship, you'll probably be curious to know 'how
one does it', if that isn't putting the matter too indelicately. If
you really want to know, just do an internet search. That's my best
advice. You'll find an ample supply of information and disinformation
in roughly equal amounts. If that doesn't satisfy you, then you'll
just have to try for yourself. Be adventurous. What have you got to

I've never been tempted. Frankly, I'm not that curious. You've got to
want to do 'it', whatever 'it' is, and that desire is in one sense
perfectly explicable -- the instinct for pair bonding which so many
terrestrial and extraterrestrial species possess. But that is as much
a mystery in the everyday, supposedly 'normal' case of two human
beings of opposite sexes. At least it is to me.

Today, human-insectoid relationships, as well as relationships with a
growing number of other alien species are commonplace. Nothing to get
unduly excited about. It requires an effort of imagination to picture
a time when it was sincerely and universally believed that the only
proper partner for a human being was another human being. Anything
else was simply unthinkable, perverted, disgusting.

When the sensation first broke, there was much discussion of the
Biblical sin of bestiality, human relationships with Earth animals
which have taken place for millennia. How was relationship with an
alien different? Simply because there are two adult persons involved,
two self-conscious individuals freely choosing to make their life

History has shown that human beings are endlessly creative in trying
out new experiments in living. That's how we managed to progress
beyond cave dwelling. In essence, this story is no different.

With the benefit of hindsight, someone had to be first to take the
plunge. That person happened to be my friend Jeff. I suppose an
insectoid historian would be writing about Jill. There are two
stories here, not just one. But I can only write about what I know.
So I will just stick to my version of events. I won't pretend that I
could ever see things from an insectoid perspective. We think we know
a lot about the insectoid race, but all that knowledge is filtered
through our human perceptions, isn't it?

Apart from a common language -- which only means we can point to the
same things and agree on a name for them -- there is surely something
else, what it is actually 'like' to be us, or them, which mere words
can never convey. How does an insectoid see 'blue' or 'red'? That's
just the simplest example I can think of. If we don't have an answer
to that question, how can we possibly understand their feelings and
emotions -- pain, joy, regret, love?

I am talking about something deep, an unknown unknown. You can only
go so far in sharing experiences with insectoids or any other alien
species, then you reach a blank. You must do, how could it be any
other way? That's my personal feeling and experience. I know that
most people would say there just isn't anything to worry about. I'm
not worried. But something about this still disturbs me, just a
little -- like the feeling of vertigo you get when you're right at
the top of a roller coaster ride, waiting for the rush, realising
just how far it is down.

It could happen to anyone. So I suppose it could happen to me. Let's
not go there!

Jeff is an entomologist. Of course, you know that because you've seen
him countless times on TV. Ever since the first insectoids made
contact, entomologists have been much in demand. With a PhD you're
practically guaranteed appearances on all the major talk shows in
your first professional year.

Never mind the glaring fact that anyone who understands the least bit
about extraterrestrial biology knows that the insectoid race has only
the most superficial resemblance to Earth insects. A wasp the size of
a human being would collapse under its own weight. That's why
insectoids have a rigid skeleton, just like us. As for wings -- get
real! It's been calculated that a six foot insectoid of average
weight would need a wing span of thirty feet or more -- in fact, the
same as it would be for a winged human being.

It turns out that despite outward appearances insectoid biology is
remarkably similar to ours. How did that come about? As you probably
know if you read the science magazines, there's now growing evidence
in support of the theory of panspermia, that life on a multitude of
planets in our galaxy all derived from a single source, originally
distributed in clouds in interstellar space. How those clouds
originated, we still don't know. In any case, that's just a theory,
it is possible that a better explanation will be found.

So there is still a lot we don't know. But whatever the detailed
cosmological or biological account, it seems that it's no mere
accident that underneath the skin, humans and insectoids, and indeed
all the other alien species that we have since encountered, are so
fundamentally alike.

Looks are an entirely different matter.

Suffice it to say that in a beauty competition, a giant wasp with all
its bits dangling would win against an insectoid every time. Of
course, I'm speaking from a human perspective, which as I have
explained is the only one I know.

Jeff was rather unusual in this respect. He didn't think insectoids
were ugly at all. Granted, Jeff had a long history with bugs. As a
small boy, he collected spiders and beetles. While his friends played
with toy ray guns and space ships, he made homes for his tiny pets,
kept a meticulous notebook of all their activities, incessantly drew,
painted and photographed them.

Jeff eventually went on to gain his doctorate in entomology, as his
family and friends had long expected. After the insectoids came, he
appeared on all the talk shows. He was good. Everyone said he had
genuine enthusiasm coupled with an admirable gift for communication.

But there must surely have been something else about Jeff that made
him the first to take that fateful step?

We were talking shop. The subject came round, as it so often did, to
the topic of insectoid phylogeny, genetics, developmental biology,
evolution. How did they end up so very different from us, and yet at
the same time so similar? If they weren't really insects, what was
the exact function of those dangly antennae? Wasn't it strange that
they seemed to have so little difficulty with our Earth speech,
lacking anything resembling a tongue or palate?

And then Jeff came out with it, just like that.

'I'd like to show you a photo.' Those were his exact words.

'That's... one of your experimental subjects?'

'That's Jill.'

''Jill' is the also your partner's name, isn't it?'

'They are one and the same. That's my partner.'

Talk about a conversation stopper.

Jeff had gone native. How else would you describe it?

But life goes on.

In every other respect, Jeff is just a normal guy. Someone you'd
enjoy sharing a beer with. When we used to ask him about his home
life, he would say things like, 'I took Jill to see the latest Star
Wars movie,' or, 'Jill and I are going to Scotland for our holidays,'
or, 'Jill made me my favourite meal last night, chicken risotto.'

Those conversations take on an entirely new meaning. Then again, they
don't, not really.

-- Chicken risotto! What did Jill eat?

As a rule, insectoids and humans tended to keep pretty much to
themselves up to that time. They had their own bars, restaurants,
cinemas and theatres. There was no prejudice as such, we just didn't
seem to have a lot in common, culturally speaking.

On the other hand, the insectoids were excited to discover our Earth
insects. There were no species like this on their home planet. I
guess if you want an explanation why Jill went for an entomologist,
that's as good as any I can think of.

In science, it was pretty obvious from the start that the insectoids
were significantly more advanced. They have taught us a lot. Most
importantly, they have an abundantly rich economy -- which goes some
way to explaining their relatively unhindered acceptance in Earth

Earth was indeed becoming a popular vacation destination for the
insectoid race, while their home planet in Alpha Centauri was a
vacation destination for the lucky few human beings who could afford
the star cruiser fare. I guess in a way we are seen as poor relations
from an Interplanetary perspective, although with their help we are
making big strides forward.

Insectoids are smart. You have to give them credit. When the first
space ships landed -- right on the White House lawn! -- and the crew
stepped out, they were wearing Walt Disney masks. It broke the ice
immediately. I guess they had been monitoring our air waves for a

Anyway, back to Jeff and Jill.

They were adopting. By mutual agreement, two insectoid grubs, one
male, one female. It wouldn't have been right to experiment with a
mixed family, Jeff said. Today, as you know, fully mixed families are
commonplace. Human and insectoid children have no difficulty in
getting along. At the time, however, it was a sensible decision. So
typically Jeff. The last person whom you'd expect to do anything rash.

What am I saying?!

Still, it seemed to me that Jeff was pretty much out on a limb
expecting insectoid infants to warm to a human father, and I told him
so. I'm glad I was wrong about that.

It was of course out of the question that Jeff and Jill would attempt
to have a child together. Even if Jill had succeeded in conceiving, it
would be a risky genetic experiment. That's still a taboo subject
today, although I guess given what I've said, someone will have to be
the first to try.

Now to more important matters.

The day that changed everything is etched in my memory. It was a
private moment shared by just a few people, and yet through its
repercussions it has become a major event in Earth history. I'm just
glad -- in fact, I feel very privileged -- to have been there.

Jeff had invited my wife and I, and another couple, round to their
apartment for chicken risotto. (Apparently, it's Jill's favourite
meal too!) This was the first time we were getting to meet Jill, see
her in the flesh -- hard as it was to imagine that an insectoid's
body could be made of the same substance as ours. We were more than a
little apprehensive.

Jeff met us at the door, still wearing his apron.

'Sorry about that,' Jeff said, quickly removing the kitchen garment
adorned with images of fifty varieties of moth, 'My turn to cook.
Come in, come in!'

As we turned into the living room, Jill was singing.

It was the most beautiful sound I had ever heard. An octave above
soprano, clear and bright but not piercing. A sound of pure,
unadulterated joy. 'This is how angels sing,' the thought came to me,
as it came to the others too, in that same instant.

When she saw us, Jill hesitated for a moment. Her head cocked
slightly. She gave me a look which I could half read. Enigmatic.
Except that it wasn't intended as an 'enigmatic look', the kind of
the look you give when you don't want to give too much away.

What I mean is, I could imagine how one could learn to read what
Jill's expression 'meant' -- how Jeff would read it -- although all I
could assume (how can one ever know for sure?) was that it was
surprise, mixed with slight embarrassment, and maybe something else:

No, Jill wasn't hiding anything. She and her partner Jeff had taken
an incredible risk. They were coming out.

Jill won us over that night.

As I said, insectoids are smart.

And the rest, as they say, is history.

(c) Geoffrey Klempner 2015

Email: klempner@fastmail.net

A Better Ray Gun and other tall tales:

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