“a female swale engaged in sexual activity with one of my neuter members without its consent. To me, that sounds like rape, or at least a sexual assault."
She took a sip from her coffee mug. “It may sound like it, but solcetaceans are not human. Their culture is different—"
"That doesn't make it right."
"—and their physiology is different. Tell me, was your church member injured or caused any pain?"
"No. But it was afraid it might have sinned."
She pointed at me. “That is your fault, for teaching it that sexual behavior is sinful. But, physiologically, sexual contact between solcetaceans is always pleasurable for all parties involved. And since reproduction can only occur when all three deliberately engage in sex for that purpose, casual sex never results in pregnancy. So solcetaceans never developed the taboos humans did regarding sexual contact."
I nodded. “So, if we humans hadn't developed taboos about sex, and there was no chance of your getting pregnant, then you would have no objection to my forcing you to an orgasm."
She had the decency to blush. “I'm not saying that. What I'm saying is that you can't judge solcetacean behavior based on human cultural norms. After all, even your own church has had to adapt its doctrines to take differences like the three sexes into account. Not to mention there's no way you're getting a solcetacean into the waters of baptism."
"'Except a man be born of water and of the Spirit, he cannot enter into the kingdom of God,'” I quoted. “Swales are not men, as you've pointed out. No contradiction there. But you're avoiding the subject, which is that anyone, swale or human, has the right to be free from unwanted sex. If the swales don't recognize that right yet, it's time we told them about it."
She rose from her chair and walked around the desk to stand facing her wallscreen. She zoomed in on one particular swale. It was labeled Leviathan (Class 10) , and its size reading showed 38,400 meters. It was hundreds of times longer than Neuter Kimball, or even Sister Emma.
"Solcetaceans grow throughout their lifetime,” she said, her back toward me. “The correlation between size and age is not exact, but in general the larger, the older. Some of the oldest were old before the Pyramids were built. All the solcetacean members of your church are very young and have little influence within the community. Ancients like Leviathan are respected. Do you really think you can convince a creature older than human civilization to change, just because a human thinks something is wrong? Your lifetime is but an eyeblink to her, if she had eyes that blinked."
I pushed away my awe at the sheer size of Leviathan. “Maybe you're right. But I believe in a God even older than that, who created both human and swale. I have to try."
She turned and looked me in the eyes. I held her gaze until she sighed and said, “I was always a sucker for a man with determination.” She walked to her desk, wrote something on notepaper, and handed it to me. It was an anonymous comm address with a private access code.
"I'm flattered,” I said, “and it's not that I don't find you attractive, but—"
She rolled her eyes. “It's Leviathan's personal comm."
My face flushed. “Uh, thank you. I'll talk with her."
"Don't count on it. She hasn't bothered to talk to any of us in a couple of years, but nobody's tried talking religion at her, so . . ."
"I'll do my best.” With that, I beat a hasty retreat so I could recover from my embarrassment alone.
"Try not to offend her,” she called after me.
* * * *
My email about the situation to the mission president, who was based in the L5 Colony but had jurisdiction over my little branch of the Church, received just a short reply, telling me “use your best judgment, follow the Spirit."
After a couple days spending my after-work hours studying up on swales and swale culture and preparing arguments about the rights of Mormon swales to control their own
She took a sip from her coffee mug. “It may sound like it, but solcetaceans are not human. Their culture is different—"
"That doesn't make it right."
"—and their physiology is different. Tell me, was your church member injured or caused any pain?"
"No. But it was afraid it might have sinned."
She pointed at me. “That is your fault, for teaching it that sexual behavior is sinful. But, physiologically, sexual contact between solcetaceans is always pleasurable for all parties involved. And since reproduction can only occur when all three deliberately engage in sex for that purpose, casual sex never results in pregnancy. So solcetaceans never developed the taboos humans did regarding sexual contact."
I nodded. “So, if we humans hadn't developed taboos about sex, and there was no chance of your getting pregnant, then you would have no objection to my forcing you to an orgasm."
She had the decency to blush. “I'm not saying that. What I'm saying is that you can't judge solcetacean behavior based on human cultural norms. After all, even your own church has had to adapt its doctrines to take differences like the three sexes into account. Not to mention there's no way you're getting a solcetacean into the waters of baptism."
"'Except a man be born of water and of the Spirit, he cannot enter into the kingdom of God,'” I quoted. “Swales are not men, as you've pointed out. No contradiction there. But you're avoiding the subject, which is that anyone, swale or human, has the right to be free from unwanted sex. If the swales don't recognize that right yet, it's time we told them about it."
She rose from her chair and walked around the desk to stand facing her wallscreen. She zoomed in on one particular swale. It was labeled Leviathan (Class 10) , and its size reading showed 38,400 meters. It was hundreds of times longer than Neuter Kimball, or even Sister Emma.
"Solcetaceans grow throughout their lifetime,” she said, her back toward me. “The correlation between size and age is not exact, but in general the larger, the older. Some of the oldest were old before the Pyramids were built. All the solcetacean members of your church are very young and have little influence within the community. Ancients like Leviathan are respected. Do you really think you can convince a creature older than human civilization to change, just because a human thinks something is wrong? Your lifetime is but an eyeblink to her, if she had eyes that blinked."
I pushed away my awe at the sheer size of Leviathan. “Maybe you're right. But I believe in a God even older than that, who created both human and swale. I have to try."
She turned and looked me in the eyes. I held her gaze until she sighed and said, “I was always a sucker for a man with determination.” She walked to her desk, wrote something on notepaper, and handed it to me. It was an anonymous comm address with a private access code.
"I'm flattered,” I said, “and it's not that I don't find you attractive, but—"
She rolled her eyes. “It's Leviathan's personal comm."
My face flushed. “Uh, thank you. I'll talk with her."
"Don't count on it. She hasn't bothered to talk to any of us in a couple of years, but nobody's tried talking religion at her, so . . ."
"I'll do my best.” With that, I beat a hasty retreat so I could recover from my embarrassment alone.
"Try not to offend her,” she called after me.
* * * *
My email about the situation to the mission president, who was based in the L5 Colony but had jurisdiction over my little branch of the Church, received just a short reply, telling me “use your best judgment, follow the Spirit."
After a couple days spending my after-work hours studying up on swales and swale culture and preparing arguments about the rights of Mormon swales to control their own
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