I’ve decided to renounce my British citizenship. And my earth citizenship for that matter. I’ll take my patriotism with me in all senses.

Sitting here, looking back, it’s all very petty isn’t it. I mean, I can’t exactly claim to be leading a multicultural utopia here, sure, we’ve heavily skewed CIS and male and white, like the Backstreet Boys, probably, but it’s coincidental, an artefact of the very small sample size.

I thought I would extend an invite to anyone to join my nation but then I had second thoughts, since for all I know, which is not very much, there might be people that could come here and ask to be let in, to which end I’ve had a rethink and reconsidered my immigration policy.

Anyone, I think, may come and knock on my door. That is fair. I won’t shoot effluence at you and chase you off, you’re welcomed to come as far as my outer hull and make your pitch. And I will listen and consider.

That is my commitment. Beyond that, things get complicated, because sure, It would be a great idea to just let anyone in who would be cool, or helpful, or friendly, but I’m a very white, very straight, very male person, so as an equitable ruler I feel like I would be beholden to apply some sort of system to try to keep the balance of people representative of humanities vast complexity and scales.

But… then again, how many people could we really support. Four, at most.

So I’d only really want to let in 3 more people, and given that letting in one lady and two guys would make her feel very uncomfortable, I’d probably have to let two ladies in, and one man, because only letting women in would be creepy.

I don’t know how you would break down ethnicity, I think I would rather be the sort of nation that does not have a discrimination policy geared positively or negatively, and once I’ve let one person in, I’m really beholden to start having a bit of a consensus formed on who’s next in. And, to try to make us relatively colour-blind we can institute a no names, no sight, no voice policy and only interview prospective door knockers via screens.

Of course, and I think you’ll excuse this one little patriarchal lilt, I might have to insist on competent English as a prerequisite. I lived with a non-English speaker once and it was awful.  She was a cat mind.

Now I’m not saying I’m lonely, but you can appreciate when you’re laid up with space sickness, talking to a computer who’s increasingly sounding queasy, pumping white noise through headphones to overcome that bloody broken alarm, one’s mind does tend to wander.

Knock knock?

Who’s there?

The perfect companion, private but useful, fun but serious, a lady, pretty.

The perfect companion, private but useful, fun but serious, a lady, pretty who?

Just kidding, it’s an alien come to eat you.

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