"Creasha, dear.  There are those Bozers who believe that their dream life is primary and that 'this side', as they call it, their corporeal side, is secondary."  Jawper, Creasha's Bozer partner and lover, a galactic gadabout and cosmic cutup, was speaking to a holographic image of Creasha sitting in a wicker chair in the middle of the only room in a very small spaceship.  The image was being sent from Creasha's ship, which was, like Jawper's, traveling toward the planet Boze, but taking a route on the opposite side of the planet Chelon in the hope that one of them might go unnoticed by the Chelonians.  Both ships were well within the almost infinite volume of space that the Chelonians claimed as their own.
          In that other ship, Creasha was responding to an holographic image of Jawper; a Jawper wearing nothing more than an outlandishly large foam sombrero while swilling beer and swinging slowly in a multi-colored Mexican hammock.  Jawper's last comments to the bogus Creasha prompted this response:  "That is absurd.  This is reality," she said while waving her arms to indicate all that surrounded them.  "Dreams are fantasy," she concluded.
          "Reality is everything that exists, sweetest Creasha."  Jawper paused to take a long pull from a beer bottle that refused to be other than full, then burbled on.  "Dreams exist; ergo, they are part of reality.  You can be such a chauvinist, Creasha; such a...... a corporealist (Belch)."
          "But when you dream you are alone," insisted Creasha.  "We are all social creatures.  This," swinging her arms again, "is a social existence.  Dream and you dream alone."  Both the substantial and the holographic Creasha, neither knowing quite why, felt that this last statement was somehow profound.  They both puffed-up with a touch of the pride that accompanies a point well made.
          "Creasha.  You have not been telepathic very long.  You have much development ahead of you.  When you are fully telepathic, (Another long pull from the beer bottle, followed by another bellowing belch) you will find that dreams are no less social than are 'awakes', as they say."
          "Freud said that every character in one's dreams is a personification of the dreamer."
          "I have read about your Fraud."  Creasha ignored Jawper's switching of vowels.  "There was much his mummy forgot to teach him (Belch)."
          Jawper, not looking at the holographic image of Creasha, set her full bottle of beer down as she spoke.  She picked up a small device of her own making; a device designed to translate three dimensional expressions of reality into a two dimensional expression of reality so that goods could be transported without having to overcome inertia.
          Although the device was not intended for use upon living creatures, Jawper would soon be forced to use it on herself in order to escape a hostile attempt by Chelonians to confiscate this very same device.  It was for this reason that Creasha and another of these small devices were taking that alternate route mentioned earlier.
          The Chelonians were at that very moment sneaking up on Jawper's ship from behind a large asteroid being shipped to Chelon for marketing.  It was an old trick, using an asteroid as a shield, but one that was about to serve these ruthless Chelonians well.
          While the Chelonians kept the asteroid between Jawper's ship and their own, Jawper explained to Creasha that when most sentient creatures are born they have no past experiences to use in the forming of assumptions, or the building of expectations.  "Everything," she said, "is new for these youngsters.  Almost every experience is a first experience.  They find it very difficult to distinguish between what they imagine and what they percieve.  They are easily influenced by their guardians.  They can be persuaded to believe in the most absurd of fairy tales.  Zealots often use this formative period to perpetuate their own cause and/or beliefs by foisting them upon their vulnerable young.
          "With the passing of time, however, youngsters collect experiences which are a mix of both the imaginative aspects of reality and those of the immutable aspects of reality.  This is true for all of us.  Eventually, with the imaginative aspects of reality being somewhat inconsistent, and the immutable aspects being so consistent, most of us begin to favor the reliable over the unreliable.  Eventually the imagination atrophies, and often its only remaining function is that of supporting personal desires, prejudices, and other aspects of self-interest that logic and love might deny.  At best, these youngsters mature into deathly boring individuals.  Our imagination and the fantasies that it allows are the spices that give our life experience its flavor, dear Creasha.  Only on Earth and Chelon are fantasies used as a means to control and exploit others."
          Creasha yawned while patting her open mouth and rolling her eyes in resignation.  Jawper often went on these didactic diatribes.  Jawper insisted that she did it to bring Creasha into the Galaxy of Planets, but Creasha couldn't help but see them as an unintentional, yet none-the-less condescending way to draw attention to the fact that Earthlings were the newest and most socially primitive of its members.  It reminded Creasha of her Twentieth Century History class in which they studied the self-righteous and patriarchal ways in which stone-aged tribespersons, say, from the sticky jungles of New Guinea, were treated when being introduced to the then modern world's greatest accomplishments, such as: jet planes, pepsi cola, three-for-one sales, television, and daily flossing.
          Returning from her short daydream, Creasha picked up Jawper's diatribe at this point: "...and it is for that reason that The Society of Dreamsters is constantly lobbying The Keepers of Irrefutable Facts.  They simply want their chosen world to be recognized as a legitimate plane of existence."
          "Thank you, Jawper.  I'll dream on this one," replied Creasha, realizing by Jawper's tone that her diatribe had ended.
          "That's the ticket.  An appropriate response, and a proper attitude.  You do make it easy to love you."
          "You too, Jawper."
          They broke communications.  Creasha began napping.  She was awakened by the Chelonian ship that forced her to Chelon, and, at the same time, prevented her from notifying Jawper of their presents.
          Before the Chelonians, or 'terrapin terrorists', as Creasha preferred to call them, board Jawper's ship and force her inappropriate use of that small device, a description of Bozers is in order for those of you not familiar with them.
          Bozers are a very old and odd race of hermaphrodites native to the planet Boze.  Half of all Bozers are female-dominant hermaphrodites (capable of becoming pregnant) while the other half are male-dominant hermaphrodites (not capable of becoming pregnant).  (Jawper, by the way, is a female-dominate hermaphrodite; hence the use of the feminine pronouns.)  Half of the Bozers appear to be, by hu  þman standards, very sexy Adonis-like men, while the other half appear to be Aphrodite-like women. (Jawper is most definitely Aphrodite-like.)  Their Aphrodite or Adonis-like physical appearance has no relationship to whether they are male or female dominant.  Both types are tall, a bit plump by human standards, hairless, earless, erotic to the human eye and imagination, and have a bluish tint to their skin; sort of a robin's egg blue.
          There you have it: Bozers in a nut shell; at least in regards to their sexual roles and configuration; how they occupy space, and reflect light.  Very superficial points indeed.  And it is for that reason that a few additional points must be included.  Points regarding the substance and character of Bozers.  Points taken from the definitive texts on the subject; from the human perspective.  These texts were written by Festus Orestus Butts (A human) several years after the arrival of the first Bozer to Earth.  Mr. Butts' books, 'Differences between Bozers and Humans,' Chula Vista, Ca. 92010-7584-4758-2602: One-World Government Press, January, 2208, were the most widely distributed books in history; both on Earth and Boze.  (Butts became rich from the sales on Earth, and lost millions from 'thefts' on Boze.  After living expenses, he broke even.)  Remembering that we did leave our heroine about to be swamped by a school of zealot, entreprenuerial turtles, only a few excerpts from Mr. Butts' books will be included.  Those differences most exemplifying our Bozer heroine's wiles and ways appear in bold print. They read: '....and that's ignoring that these blue beasts from outer space are ANTI-PATRIOTIC, DON'T EVEN UNDERSTAND THE CONCEPT OF PERSONAL OWNERSHIP, they're drunkards, BY DEFINITION THEY ARE BOTH HETERO AND HOMOSEXUAL AT THE SAME DAWNED TIME, drug addicts, OFTEN TIMES DON'T WEAR SHOES for God's sake, they're bums, BUFFOONS, thieves, AGNOSTICS if not atheists, ANARCHISTS, TELEPATHS, polygamists, THEY HAVE AN UNGODLY SENSE OF HUMOR, and, by gosh, THEY CHEAT AT GAMES OF CHANCE.'  Mr. Festus Orestus Butts ended his books, and his life, by the way, writing and exhaling these two words: 'Them bozers.'
 

          While they approached the backside of the asteroid, the Chelonians happened to stumble upon the holographic transmissions flowing between Jawper and Creasha.  They immediately commissioned a ship to intercept and detain Creasha.  (You know how that story goes.)
          Although the Chelonians were very tight beaked as to what went on within their ship just before and during their encounter with Jawper, a few happenings did become available.
          The following conversation between the Chelonians Grueso and Harassum took place immediately after the holographic transmissions were intercepted.
          "You identified yourself as being in charge of this venture, Grueso.  You forget that I am an equal partner.  You should have commissioned that ship as an equal partner in Venture 239N3IFNM.  Unless, of course, you are going to pay for it out of your personal revenues, which is fine with me."
          "Neither of your marginally understandable points are true, Harassum.  You are in charge of surveillance and apprehension only.  That entitles you to only 30% of the profits.  You are, however, responsible for 47.9% of the costs and I intend to hold you to that percentage.  You should have surveyed Venture 239N3IFNM more carefully before applying your neruo-harmonic to it."
          At this time Harassum stretched his neck and head to its fullest extent and then quickly retracted them into his carapace several successive times.  This, for those of you who do not already know, is indicative of anger, mortification, and embarrassment on the part of a Chelonian.
          It is not known how long after, but, awhile later, the following dialogue took place:
          "Harassum.  Feed (missing, and most likely derogatory, comments) Molluscian.  Following that, return to your instruments."
          "(Angry and threatening comments by Harassum.)"  Harassum and Grueso both were reported to have done some very pronounced and serious neck stretching and head retracting at this point.
          "Fine, Harassum.  If you don't follow my orders, you will forfeit all profits while retaining your share of the costs.  Do as you please."
          That is all that is known of the Chelonian s   hipboard dialogues during this period.  They do, however, accurately portray the typical mood of a working relationship between Chelonians.
          It should also be mentioned that the only times that Chelonians have ever been know to show any emotions have been during contract negotiations and their subsequent settling into a chain of command.  When ventures succeed or fail, when a family member is born or dies, during their once every ten or so year sexual encounters, when sentenced to modified animation for having been caught breaking a law, or when experiencing any other happening that would elicit an emotional response from most the other members of our galaxy, Chelonians have unfailingly reacted like stones.

          Precisely at the moment that Jawper's ship was as close to the asteroid as it was ever to be, the Chelonians raced out from behind the asteroid, overtook Jawper's ship, and prepared to lock and seal their main hatch with that of the Bozer's.  Jawper became aware of the Chelonians as soon as they rounded the asteroid, but without the speed to out run them, there was nothing to do but wait for the main hatches to be locked, sealed, and then opened to reveal her future.
          By the time the main hatches connecting the two ships were both open, Harassum and Grueso had ended their head and neck bobbing battle and were working together as a typically coordinated and well-oiled Chelonian entreprenuerial machine.
          Before Jawper was willing to engaged her little device and go to a place where Pi and Circle debate the existence of Sphere, she thought she might try to negotiate with these Chelonians.
          The main hatch slowly opened.  Jawper stood tall, blue, and naked.  She inflatted her chest, widened her stance, and locked her hands (one cradling the device) behind her back; all the while, being shaded by that huge foam sombrero.  She belched.
          The first to enter was the Molluscian.  It scanned its surroundings slowly and deliberately.  Its eyes paused on anything and everything blue.  They finally came to rest on Jawper.
          Jawper made no moves that might set the Molluscian off.  She watched as it scanned the room.  She thought to her self (a phrase that has greater meaning in a universe filled with telepaths) that this is a very smart Molluscian; colors have always been more trouble for Molluscians than shapes.
          Then, as was being hoped by the Chelonians hiding behind their main hatch door, Jawper opened her mind for the picosecond it took to identify the Molluscian.  During this short expanse of time, a few things were being realized by the characters involved: the Chelonians realized that not only did Jawper have something worth taking as, say, a tax, or a toll, but that she was the same Bozer who had given Grueso such a difficult time four years earlier.  Jawper and the Molluscian both realized that they had, approximately forty years earlier, been involved in a number of trysts over a two week period.  The Molluscian's realization came as a vague sense of sexual familiarity and arousal; nothing more.  For Jawper, it conjured up vivid memories of the savage and slippery convolvement of her hermaphroditic cathode with that of the Molluscian's hermaphroditic anode.  In a galaxy knowing nothing of puritanical restraints until the discovery of Earth, and then unanimously ignoring them, Bozers and Molluscians habitually dallied their Yins with that of the other's Yangs.
          "So it is you," thought Grueso to Jawper as the Chelonian entered Jawper's ship.  "The last time we did business together, you became the first and only Bozer to have ever taken a profit from a transaction."
          "Grueso.  It doesn't surprize me that it is you incharge of such an undertaking.  What is it that you want?"
          "Want?  Me?"
          "You're a Chelonian.  There must be something you want.  It is common knowledge throughout the galaxy that Chelonians are always wanting."
          "I'm sure that a Bozer would consider that humorous.  I do not.  Nor did I find the result of our last dealings humorous."
          "I had no use for those profits you insisted I take.  You wanted to force a Bozer to take a profit, so you were forced to live with the results of a Bozer ridding itself of that profit."
          "You may be interested in knowing," returned Grueso, "that the four thousand Jehovah's Witnesses and five thousand Mormons you transported from Earth to Chelon are all back on Earth."
          "And what of the others?"
          "Well, there, you made a slight miscalculation.  You see, the Southern Baptist evangelists and I have worked out a very nice arrangement for the fabulously profitable proselytism rights for this galactic sector, and we're negotiating for control of the Oniomanian sector.  Think of the profits the Oniomanians will yield from Holo-prayer sells alone.  As for the Nichiren Shoshu Buddhists, I am taking a nice little profit from the manufacture and sales of Juzu beads."
          At this time, Grueso, tired of what would be considered banter from a Chelonian perspective, turned a commanding thought toward Harassum, still in the Chelonian ship, that resulted in the formation of a holo-image of Creasha.  The ebony black image of Creasha stood motionless long enough for Jawper to realize that because of their holographic communications they had both been found-out.  As Jawper's heart sank, Creasha's image began to move and speak.  It spoke words that Creasha had never actually spoken during their communications, but those words made the Chelonian's point clear:  Not only did they know of the device in Jawper's possession, they knew of, and possibly had control of, Creasha.  The entire plan was a bust unless Creasha, the real Creasha, could keep her device a secret and manage to be released and make it to orbit 24-DF around planet Boze.  Jawper quickly formulated her own plan of action.
          Realizing that the Bozer was about to act, Grueso ordered the Molluscian to confiscate the device Jawper was holding.  The Molluscian moved quickly.  However, equally as quick, Jawper filled the Molluscian's mind with memories of the emotions and physical sensations of those forty-year-old dalliances.  This slowed the Molluscian's approach just enough for Jawper to find the device's button and press.
          Instantly the hummungous sombrero slowly glided to, and softly landed on, the floor of the Bozer ship.  At this point, Jawper's plan would have been called a success but for two minor complications.
          The Chelonians had no choice but to release the Bozer ship and allow it to home-in-on and return to Boze.  (Bozer ships can be stolen, but they can never be used unless the skipper is a Bozer, or a creature authorized by a Bozer to act as skipper.)  Jawper was relying on this, and it would have worked fine but for those two minor complications.  The first being that the love-struck Molluscian insisted on taking the sombrero, shadow and all, as a memento, and the second being that Jawper had somehow lost control of the device.
          For Jawper, from here to eternity meant an infinitely long loneliness without shape or substance.  Jawper's life had suddenly become the experiencing of nothing more than time and thought; space was only a memory.  She was not even capable of discerning the Chelonians' telepathic response to their vitiated cabal, nor the Molluscian's shallow and short-lived emotional pangs.
          After releasing the Bozer's ship, Grueso, Harassum, and the Molluscian return to Chelon and their interrogation and loss of Creasha.
          The Molluscian placed the huge sombrero amongst its prized possessions, then quickly let the thought of it run free with a herd of other faint and undisiplined memories.
 
 

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