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A year down the line, it was obvious to Vance that the negotiations were going nowhere. It had been a mildly reassuring discovery that when frustrated, the outworld delegation took refuge in alcohol as easily as humans did. At the bar nearest to the conference centre, he and ǂXʘn, his outworld counterpart, were becoming progressively more drunk. At least, Vance was. He wasn’t too sure about ǂXʘn, who was moodily tapping a tentacle on the bar counter.

“I think your fundamental problem is cultural relativism,” said ǂXʘn.

“What do you mean?”

“It seems to me that you humans,” — the…

Dr Jo

Can’t sing. Can’t dance. Can program a little. Has a few medical degrees &c.

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