by Alan Duncan
The occupants of the module numbered two; both would be considered male in human terms. The taller one had brown hair, slightly greying at the temples. His face, though young, betrayed the wisdom only attained from many years' life experience. His companion: slightly shorter, blonde and youthful. Both could be considered beautiful in different ways, and indeed, in each other's eyes, they certainly were.
“What did you call this world again, Lukaine?” probed the shorter man.
“The planet Terra, third planet from the star Sol, known to its native inhabitants as the Earth,” replied the taller being.
“Oh yes, I remember!” replied Blonn, “I also remember you telling me that we had business here of the utmost urgency, but that you would say no more! I would like to know what is happening once and for all!”
Lukaine turned to face Blonn, his eyes tender, yet his face grave, “I'm sorry, my dear Blonn. It is my natural desire to protect you from the less desirable aspects of the universe which has led me to being less than forthcoming. You have to understand that not all worlds are as secure, civilized and harmonious as ours.”
Blonn looked up at Lukaine, slightly indignant, “I'm not a child, you know!”
Lukaine extended his hand and gently caressed Blonn's soft silky cheek. “I know my dear... it's just that I've been observing the world Terra for some time...”
“You could say that I've noticed; all those nights I've had to fall asleep on my own in an empty bed while you've slaved away on the psych-projector.”
“If I were to tell you that the future of this world depended on us being here, would that make it easier for you to accept?”
Blonn looked deep into Lukaine's eyes. That was enough to tell him that the situation was grave indeed. He nodded, “Tell me more.”
“Earth has been on the verge of self destruction for many decades. There have been numerous wars - both on a worldwide scale and on a more localized level - for about as long as humankind has existed here, but it goes much deeper than that...to a fundamental self-hatred, leading to inconceivable acts of violence and destruction being perpetrated upon each other.”
Lukaine paused to let this sink in. Blonn raised his eyebrows expectantly, coaxing Lukaine to continue. He did so.
“There is a fundamental flaw in human bio-psychological development, thus leading to a large quantity of misdirected emotional energy.”
Blonn looked quite dumbfounded, “Lukaine, you're speaking in riddles, you've lost me!”
Lukaine nodded in concession, “The inhabitants of Earth are fundamentally different to us. On this world, we would be considered abnormal. On this world, many humans are biologically geared to select members of the opposite gender, not only as breeding mates, but also emotionally-based life mates as well.”
Blonn's young eyes widened, “You mean... earthling males... pair bond with females... permanently? And they actually produce offspring... together... biologically?”
“Well, that is the general theory, but the permanence is dubious in many cases.”
“But, there are Ssabs like us?” asked Blonn.
“Yes, but as I said, they are a minority, seen by many as abnormal.”
Blonn was still puzzled, “So how does this link to their destroying themselves, and how do you know that their development is flawed? Surely we have been taught to be open minded, and cannot assume that this is an abnormal course of evolution for them?”
Lukaine smiled as he looked into Blonn's face. He was so proud of his cute Blonn... he could just have leant over and connected his lips tenderly with Blonn's there and then, but there was work to do. “There have been many attempts by our brothers from other worlds over the centuries to educate the Terrans about the dangers of their activities. I believe these attempts have possibly ignored the real, underlying cause of the problem.”
“Which is?”
“The misdirected sexual energies of the human male and the associated aggression generated. But, worst of all... I think we may be to blame!” Lukaine's expression looked like a security enforcer's who had just broken the news of a child's death to its fathers or mothers.
“Us... how?” Blonn's voiced cracked.
Lukaine turned on his heel and paced slowly and solemnly to the far wall of the control chamber, then turned to face Blonn again.
“Do you recall the legends of the very first expedition sent to Earth by our world? It was many, many centuries ago, before we had harnessed our powers of psych manipulation, and we still relied on the ancient atomic drive powered transports.”
“I have read of the expedition, Lukaine.”
“Well, what isn't recorded by posterity is the ultimate failure of the expedition due to explosion of one of the atomic drive reactors. Many of the crew were killed, but a few were left stranded on the Earth. This was long before any form of intelligent life had evolved on this world. The crew was composed of both male and female Ssabs, in case the party decided that the planet required prolonged settlement for research purposes, necessitating reproduction.”
Blonn could see that Lukaine was somewhat disturbed in imparting these revelations. He felt the natural urge to comfort his life partner, and moved in with out-stretched hands, placing them gently on Lukaine's sides. “Go on,” he urged, “I've never heard any of this before.”
“It's buried deep in the psych-net” explained Lukaine. “It isn't available to the general populace. Only recently that the council have chosen us to try to address the problem have I been given access to it.”
Mention of the council brought home even further to Blonn the seriousness of the issue.
Lukaine continued: “It appears the extent of the fallout from the damaged atomic drive units may have been underestimated. It seems that the survivors were genetically damaged in a way that led to a deviation from the normal mating and biological attraction paths of the Ssab people. Males actually started to feel attracted to females and vice versa, rather than pair bonding within the same gender grouping. And it seems this trait was passed on to most of their descendents. This course of events wasn't discovered until several hundred years later when a second expedition could be mounted. That was just as our mastery of psych-matter transfer technology was being honed.”
Blonn's face creased as his mind analysed this information.
“Much of the hostility and lack of stability which emanates from this planet and threatens the stability of space may be our fault. That's why we have been sent to test the feasibility of reversing the damage. Recent advances in psych-manipulation of matter should make it possible.”
Blonn felt slightly uneasy. “Well, now I know why you've been so pre-occupied for so long. But are you sure? Do we have enough evidence linking their sexuality with hostility?”
“The evidence is fairly conclusive,” Lukaine replied assuredly. “Over the years there have been countless examples of human-kind's fundamental lack of comfort with their sexuality... especially the heterosexual male. So much of the violence of which I have spoken seems to stem from the males need to reassure himself of his own sexuality and role in society, whether by domination and violence towards the female, or dominance of other males, leading to all manner of violence. A big outlet for this seems to be their rituals of sport, which returns the male to a very primeval and sexualized expression of his true feelings and desire for contact with other males. The male also on occasion seeks forced sex with the female of the species, as if to re-affirm that this is his rightful role, while satisfying the demands of his high drive. I'm afraid it also serves to highlight the glaring differences between the male and female sexual cycles, which were never meant to be compatible. It is sad to watch the poor creatures. They have an almost childlike frustration that they can't seem to bridge this gender divide. If only they knew it was a lost battle... ” Lukaine tailed off, lost in thought.
“Indeed,” agreed Blonn. “I can't imagine such behaviour at all on our home world. Everyone is just too pre-occupied with higher pursuits, or their relationships... which aren't all perfect I'll grant you, but they have a pretty high harmony rating in general.”
“Well, that's it you see. The human male and female don't have a hope of ever fully understanding each other. Whether regarding each others sexual needs, or understanding the consequences of the misuse of their reproductive capabilities, leading to unplanned reproduction. The cycles of violence are often perpetuated by young human males who have been bred into an atmosphere of indifference, lacking the nurturing principles we hold dear, purely due to lack of sexual responsibility and hypocrisy.”
“That sounds shocking,” Blonn gasped.
“It is ridiculous and dangerous, I agree,” nodded Lukaine. “The humans then wonder why they have such problems with over population! However, it is clear that the genetic corruption often has lapses, even on those who are supposedly affected from birth. Often affected males will pair bond with a female, only to have their true desires surface, and subsequently seek out the male to male contact their true nature desires, but in a clandestine fashion, shrouded in shame... very sad. There are many human offspring who are as we are, unaffected by the corruption... genetically perfect. Their battle is a social one... for acceptance.” Lukaine lamented, as if genuinely empathising with the pain he knew the human Ssab's must feel in their isolation. “I mean, imagine not being able to show affection for one another as and when you pleased!” Lukaine's voice became tinged with anger. It was unlike him to be negatively passionate in this way. Blonn crossed to him and stroked his neckline where the back of his neatly clippered hair faded down to his collar.
Lukaine continued: “Mankind has obviously had a fundamental discomfort in its psyche since day one. They have established organisations called churches, that use doctrines to try to reinforce the corruption of their nature as true and natural. They talk down their race memory of their true nature as unnatural or “sinful.” So you see, obviously, the leaders of these organisations feel if this isn't done, that there will be mass reversions to the pre-corruption state... psychological conflict on a species-wide scale.”
Blonn nodded keenly, revealing a new clarity of realisation. “So, where do we go from here?”
“Well,” grinned Lukaine with an almost childlike enthusiasm, “I've selected a Terran continent called Australia to try our experimental reversion. This Australia seems to exhibit pronounced examples of many of the issues I've raised. I've been examining many of their social trends for some time on the psych-net. The males seem to enjoy their time bonding with each other so much, but they can't quite bring this to a natural consummation. I believe they'd happily spend all their time together if it wasn't for the feeling of needing sexual contact with the female. Alas, this time they spend together often ends up in violent activity, as a result of their lack of ability to reconcile their suppressed emotions. Our job is to try and remove this block wrought by the corruption once and for all!!”
“So, do we have a subject for our test?” Blonn quizzed, even though he already knew the answer.
Lukaine smiled to himself. “Oh yes we do. I've been observing him for some time... a troubled young lad named Vince. He lives in the city of... erm... Melbourne. Here, have a look on the psych-net, you'll see for yourself. Then, we'll use our combined psych-manipulation powers to see what we can do... ”
Vince was 17. Of Italian background, he was a well-toned, muscular lad of olive complexion, dark eyes and short black hair, parted right down the middle and slicked down with product. His mate, Mark, also an Italian lad, whom he'd known since childhood, was also muscled, as they regularly attended gym together. As was typical of boys their age, conformity was the name of the game, with both looking almost identical in baggy jeans, similar hairstyles, the same tight fitting tank tops to accentuate their shapely physiques, and the same style of large gold earrings pierced through both earlobes. Vince was aware that what they were wearing was similar to what a lot of fags wore, but after all, all his friends were wearing it and the babes seemed to be turned on by it.
The train pulled into Windsor station and Vince and Mark alighted, Vince pausing on the platform to pull a packet of cigarettes from his jeans and light one up. “Fag, bro?” he offered the pack to Mark.
“Yeah, thanks man,” replied Mark as he extracted one of the small, white cancer sticks from the box. Vince pulled a lighter from his jeans and flicked the flame to life. He ignited both their cigarettes and replaced the lighter and packet in his jeans. They stood puffing as the weather-worn train carriages whirred and groaned out of the station, onwards towards the terminus.
“So man, why are we here?” asked Mark quietly. Vince took a long drag and put his left hand in the pocket of his loose fitting jeans.
“You know, bro, these aren't the only fags you'll find around here,” he replied with the hint of a mischievous grin on his face, as he held his cigarette aloft in front of Mark's face.
“What, you mean...?”
“Yeah, just up the road, there's one of those parks where the poofters meet to do their dirty stuff to each other... like that beach we did last time.”
Mark's lips curled upwards at the memory of his last adventure with Vince. He had never though about poofter bashing until Vince had brought it up. He had always been taught that gays were bad and that homosexuality was wrong, but wouldn't have taken these views to such extremes, had Vince not egged him on so much. He knew that Vince had been eyed up a few times by queers — at least that's what he'd told Mark. Vince said he wanted to teach them a lesson. Mark could see that he was right in wanting to put these queers in their place. But deep down he could also sense why they would find Vince so attractive... Vince had also said to Mark that, as his best bud in the world, he had a responsibility to be there to help him give those fags what they deserve. They had shaken hands and given each other the brotherly hug they had given each other on many important bonding occasions since they had become close friends as kids. It had made Mark feel so proud, so warm inside as he was kicking some dirty faggot on the ground that night, to be able to be there for his best mate, as Vince egged him on and slapped him on the back in congratulation. It had almost made him... horny. It must have made Vince horny too, as afterwards, he had suggested they go out and find some girls to “do.” It was recalling this feeling of satisfaction in helping Vince, in almost making him proud, that spurred Mark on tonight.
“Oh cool! Where is it?” he asked eagerly, averting his gaze slightly as Vince's deep brown eyes turned to meet his.
“Just up Chapel St. and over the main road... c'mon man.” They left the station together with a spring in their step.
As the boys reached the park, it was nearing 12:30am. It was very dark, save for the corridor of high intensity lights stretching down the main pathway which bisected the parkland, and the glow from the street lights on the main road. Vince's heart was pounding... he could hear the blood coursing through the veins in his ears. He was almost sure that Mark might hear it too, but all Mark could hear was his own heart pounding. As they stood, obscured by shadows, a little way back from the park's entrance, a man ambled by. He was about 35 and well dressed in jeans and leather jacket. He cast around a few furtive glances, then entered the park, occasionally looking behind him or from side to side. Vince took a last puff on his cigarette — the third he'd had during the short walk from the station. He reached into the back pocket of his jeans, pulling out the flat, black body of a flick knife, which he clicked open and shut several times, almost as if he was in a shop, trying it out for comfort prior to a new purchase.
“Hey man, what's that for?” asked Mark apprehensively.
“What's it look like? I reckon we go a step further tonight and cut one of these fags. Would you like to do it? Or you chicken shit?”
“I... I dunno man,” Mark's voice wavered.
“It's the right thing! Don't you trust me, man? Remember, we're bro's for life. I wouldn't do nothing to get ya' into trouble. These poofs won't dob. They're too scared of being found out,” Vince reassured him, “Wouldn't ya' be proud of me if I cut a fag?” he persisted.
“Yeah... course I would, man!” Mark attempted to sound convinced while trying to fend off all sort of images of blood, scars, police stations, Vince lying in hospital after the whole thing going horribly wrong... his mind refocused on Vince's expectant face. Mark's eyes wandered down to the knife gripped tightly in Vince's hand. He couldn't help but take in the outline of Vince's firm young bubble butt, from which his baggy jeans hung, a butt that looked equally as good in the pair of nylon soccer shorts that Vince wore every weekend when they played together for their local team. He realised, the quicker they got this over with, the quicker they could go and find some babes together, and that would keep his best mate happy. “OK, dude, let's do it.”
They clasped hands again, almost as if in a final symbol of brotherhood, before moving off down the path, closing in on their prey...
“Has the young male Vince behaved like this often?” Blonn was incredulous as he watched the lad's exploits projected in his mind by the psych-net amplifier.
“Oh yes, often,” replied Lukaine, his tone now verging on casual.
“Unbelievable! I see what you mean about negative energies. It's such a shame that the Ssabs of Earth have to go to such vulnerable locations to find closeness and satisfaction, just to be confronted by misguided young thugs like these,” lamented Blonn.
“Well, that's what we are here to remedy... I hope. If this reversion test works, its quite certain that we'll be able to effect a complete genetic cure by means of the psych-net amplifier. So... shall we see if we can put them out of their misery?”
“Yes, lets,” Blonn nodded vigorously with almost childlike excitement.
Lukaine threw a switch, and they both closed their eyes focussing their minds in deepest concentration.
Vince and Mark moved stealthily down the path, in and out of the shadows. The man in the leather jacket was a silhouette in the distance. They thought they could make out the shadowy figure of someone else sitting on a bench by some bushes. Sure enough, the leather jacket stopped and looked back towards the bench. The figure rose, moved towards the leather jacket, and the two of them moved off into the bushes to the side of the pathway.
“There they go, the two of them in there doing their... disgusting... ” Vince stumbled over his words.
“Too right man... lets get ‘em, don't ya reckon?” Mark seemed to be seeking the go ahead from his mate.
“Yeah I do ... They deserve it. You wanna do it?”
“I... well... ” Mark cast his gaze groundwards, trying to utter the answer Vince wanted to hear.
“Look, its cool. I'll do it,” Vince was firm, “I don't want you to have to go through being eyed up by some queer.”
Mark felt akin to jelly on a plate. Was Vince trying to look after him... to protect him?
They reached the bushes through which the two ‘targets' had disappeared. Vince pushed them aside gently, so as not to draw attention to their presence just yet. Through the leaves they could see the two men. In the dim glow from the pathway lamps, they could see them caressing each other's upper torsos through unbuttoned shirts. Mark checked himself as he visualised in his mind's eye, Vince standing where the leather jacketed guy was right now, caressing hands working their way gently, slowly, downwards, towards his belt-line. He could barely bring himself to visualise who he wished the caressing hands belonged to. It just wasn't right!!
A nudge in the ribs from Vince returned him to reality with a thud. “Look at ‘em!! Right, you dart out and tackle the one with his back to us,” Vince hissed urgently, “I'll be right behind, and stick this to him,” he brandished the knife, while indicating the leather jacket. “Ready?”
Mark nodded a somewhat detached nod. There was a chill in the air, only slightly mitigated by the heat radiating from Vince's body. “Yeah,” he whispered.
“Right... go!” and with that, he shoved Mark to break cover. He clicked open the knife and was right behind Mark through the parting bushes. Mark darted towards the first man. Vince brandished the knife, its blade glinting slightly the moonlight. “FAGGOTS!” Vince shrieked, a maniacal expression on his face...
“Concentrate!!” gasped Lukaine, as he grabbed Blonn's hand, his grip like an iron vice.
In the darkness and adrenalin-pumped blur of the moment, it was as if something arose from the ground and placed an invisible barrier in front of Mark's foot. It could have been a gnarled tree root protruding from the dirt, or a large stone. He found himself taking a flying trip straight onto his face!! Vince, being straight on his tail, plopped straight on top of him. The knife pierced straight through the hard ground with such force that only the handle remained visible.
The two men fumbling in the shadows spun around in panic and fear, and looked almost in amazement at the scene of chaos on the ground at their feet. Without waiting to button their shirts, they both pounded away into the night.
“What the hell are you doing, you dickhead?” screamed Vince, his face just inches from the back of his mates neck, as lay on top of him where he fell, struggling with his position.
Mark struggled to turn over, pinned under Vince.
Vince glared into his eyes in anger, their faces just inches apart and was overtaken by a feeling of strange calm... a foreign feeling to him. He stopped flailing and struggling to get up. He looked again at Mark's face, who was just lying looking up at him with a strange mixture of terror and contentment. In looking at Mark's face at such close range, he thought to himself, it was a face he had seen so often before. But this time... it was like... it was like... having worn heavily tinted sunglasses at night, and suddenly taking them off... he could actually see clearly... but see what? His mate was lying under him!!
Christ, what if some of his mates saw what was happening? Hell, he'd better get up quick... but... then again... why? It was his best bud, they'd been through so much together, gotten in trouble and stuck up for one another... gotten so many girls together!! Seeing as the night had been a failure, they could still go on and do that!! But... hey... if the night had gone to plan, they wouldn't be lying here now. And, why did he need to go and get girls... he had the one he most loved spending his time with right here!! Why did they need to go and get girls??
Things had never seemed this simple before. Why were they now? Mark was so cool, so loyal, so good at sport, so beautiful, was into the best music... wait a minute... beautiful? He was beautiful! Yes... beautiful... beautiful... beautiful... Vince gasped, “You're beautiful!”
Mark thought he was dreaming. After all, this was a moment he had secretly dreamed of for years. He felt his body shiver. “What?”
“You're... beautiful,” Vince repeated, as if to reconfirm that he'd actually said it himself. “Christ, I'm sorry man... ” Vince moved to get off Mark, almost in panic. He felt a floodgate open inside him, and his face creased as tears began to pour down his silky young cheeks.
Mark, grabbed his forearms. “Don't be sorry man,” he implored. “There's nothing to be sorry for. You're... beautiful... too.”
“But, I don't... I don't... I'm sorry for bringing you here man,” he almost wailed through his tears.
“That's cool man. You know I'd always do stuff for you,” Mark replied, his own emotions on the verge of liberation.
“I know... you're the best. But, I can't really even remember why I wanted to do it.” Vince's forehead creased as if trying to recall some long lost secret.
“I've never really been that into it, you know... poofter bashing. I just wanted ya to be proud of me. That's why I always helped ya get the babes too.”
“What? Just for me? Weren't you really into it?” sniffled Vince.
“Nah, not really,” Mark said, his own tears gaining momentum.
“Why didn't ya say something?”
“How could I, man? You would have told all the guys and they would have pounded my head in. You know what they're all like. You probably would have done it to me too!!” Mark was getting defensive.
“Yeah... maybe,” Vince had no real answer to give to that point. He'd known that Mark had never really been the fighting type, but his prowess with girls had made up for this... but the thought of Mark with a girl! It suddenly made Vince feel so strange. Almost as if a betrayal of their trust. It hadn't been an issue before. But right there, in that moment, he felt a sense of togetherness with Mark; a sense of belonging. An almost territorial... “love.” His heart pounded. It felt so... weird, yet... natural. After all, they did know more about each other than anyone else in the world. He thought he had felt this feeling over a girl he had known once. But, could this be the same feeling? Could it?
“So, do you wanna go find a woman now dude?” Mark said in an almost whisper. Almost unawares, he found himself stroking Vince's forearms. He prepared for Vince to pull away, but was relieved when he didn't.
Vince wasn't in the mood for sex. He was feeling a sense of turmoil, but at the same time, peace. “No, man, I just need to talk. I feel weird.”
“Who do you wanna talk to?” Mark raised his eyebrows, almost as if asking a rhetorical question.
Vince placed his palm on Mark's lightly stubbled cheek. “You man. I... just wanna' be with you at the moment.” Mark's mention of finding sex had turned Vince off... he just wasn't in the mood. He was too far removed from his physical desires to be aroused by the notion. At least he thought he was. He suddenly became aware of a warm, solid sensation in the vicinity of his lower abdomen. Was Mark horny? He found his hand moving down, the curiosity overwhelming him. Sure enough... it was true!! But what it took him a moment to realise was that, he himself, was equally hard and warm with desire. It didn't seem to add up! He found himself smiling through the remains of his tears, which he wiped away with his fingers. “C'mon man, let's get out of here,” Vince said, dragging himself to his feet, and holding out a hand in assistance to Mark. Mark took it and rose to his feet also. Vince started to move off. Mark placed a hand on his shoulder. “What about the knife?”
Vince's eyes rolled, as he looked down at the black handle, difficult to make out against the ground in the dark. He freed it without much effort. The blade was bent slightly with the impact with the ground, too much to allow itself to be folded back into its case. Vince placed it gingerly in his back pocket. “Remind me to ditch this before I sit down anywhere,” he managed to raise a smile on both their faces.
They caught each other's eyes momentarily. Mark hesitated, then slowly reached out and very lightly took Vince's hand, then they went through the darkness to meet up with the main path further up the park. As they reached the lights of the path, their hands parted out of instinct and they walked on, side by side as they had always done. Yet in some ways, it was the first time they had truly walked together.
Blonn could hardly bring himself to open his eyes. What he had just witnessed filled him with such a warm contented feeling, he almost didn't want it to end. When his eyelids parted he found Lukaine's eyes. Looking at Lukaine's smooth young/old face, Blonn was reminded how much he loved him.
“Well, what do you make of that?” Lukaine asked, one eyebrow raised in an expectant look.
“It was beautiful,” Blonn almost whispered.
“Yes... ” Lukaine pondered. “But highly significant. The reversion took hold. You saw the realisation that came over the boy Vince. He will be confused for a time, and they'll have to take one step at a time, but now he should be able to lead a normal Ssab life... especially with his friend Mark to help him.”
“Yes, he was one of the natural reversions, wasn't he?”
“No, he was of the few who were corruption free from birth. Poor lad has had a massive struggle all his life. The quicker we return with the full scale reversion, the easier it will be for all of them,” enthused Lukaine, “Just a split second to bring to an end the turmoil suffered by humankind for thousands of years; an end to the violence, the negative energy, the repression of those associated with the afflicted...”
“Indeed, a most valuable and necessary repair, I would agree,” nodded Blonn, “They deserve it after all these centuries.”
“We must report to council immediately on our findings, and seek permission for the use of the psych-net amplifier, so that the full, affected population of the Earth may be reached. It has never been used on such a scale before. It will require enormous telepathic energy and will mean that no excess energy consumption will be permitted for a time... by the tissue regressor for example...” Lukaine looked at Blonn.
“I know,” Blonn stroked Lukaine's cheek, at the same time pulling their faces together until their lips touched ever so lightly, in an affectionate peck.
Lukaine's face started swimming and blurring before Blonn's eyes and Blonn's silky smooth skin was becoming lined in a distinguished fashion. Eye sockets, which only moments ago were smooth and wide-eyed, betrayed once again the laughter lines at their edges — evidence of the many years they had spent laughing together. Lukaine's hair, a moment ago only slightly greying, appeared now totally white, his forehead now considerably higher, and his strong and masculine hands, now rather twisted and swollen from the effects of arthritis.
“There we are... back to normal,” sighed Lukaine, pecking Blonn on a withered cheek.
“I know we have possessed temporary tissue regression technology for many years, Lukaine, but it sometimes still amazes me. I often wonder why our technology never managed to effect permanence.”
“Well, you don't live an average of 500 years without learning something, my dear. Our lives are pretty near perfect in so many other ways. Why do we need it? I have observed that the humans often also seek a permanent “fountain of youth.” They are not yet mature enough to realise its pitfalls. Perhaps, once the mistake in hand has been corrected, that is another lesson that we may also be able to teach them... ”
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