"Why not?" he replies. He says he always swims in the nude when visiting the Earth. Then he laughs. "The separation between the sexes, by marriage or whatever, or between people in general, has no meaning in my Universe where distance is not a valid factor."

     "But in this ship it is a factor," I protest.

     "No, it is only assumed to be a factor, even though the concept is totally invalid." Martin laughs again while he says this.

     "Forgive me," he adds moments later. "I don't aim to be rude. I just want to help you wake up to the reality of your being. How can you be the master of your dance if you don't know the world in which you are dancing? So, please forgive me if I appeared rude," he adds.

     This time he doesn't cover my eyes. As I blink, zip, splash... we are swimming in the crystal waters of a world of bright sunshine, floating among petals of flowers that had fallen from hundreds of flowering trees at the shore. "Welcome to Bohr's planet," says Martin when I came to my senses. He grins like a boy of tens whose trick had just been found out. "We are presently three galaxy clusters away from the ship," he says. "So, lets enjoy ourselves. After our swim, I'll introduce you to the most eccentric person on this planet."



     I was sure this person had to be Bohr. It just had to be, or someone like him. At least that's what I hoped for. What an opportunity such a meeting would give me for getting some more pointers!

     We came to a gigantic dome after the swim. The dome appeared to be made of Martin's metal, a metal that looked like the small block I had seen in the ship, except this time it was more golden in color. Of course it was polished to the same, fine perfection. Or was this its natural state?



     "That's Bohr's museum," Martin explains.



     "Of course it is," I reply mechanically.

    I didn't know what to expect. Once we were inside, walking became difficult on the super polished surface that was more slippery than the slickest ice. Still, that posed not a great problem. I stepped back, took a run at the entrance, and swoosh; I skittered down the long corridor that extended from the entranceway. The corridor was actually a channel cut through boxes and shelves full of stuff of every description. The place looked like a warehouse, more than a museum. At the center of the dome were people, quietly milling around. I figured that Bohr would most likely be among them.



     "Watch out!" I yell, "I can't stop!" Someone jumps out of my way as I sail by.

     "You've brought too much baggage with you," Martin cries after me.

     I knew what he meant. The baggage consisted of a brain-load of invalid concepts. Just in time, I remembered the Bohr/Miller effect. It enabled me to stop just inches away from crashing into the far wall.

     "Very good!" says Martin after I had come back. He introduces me to everyone...

     "And this is Olaf," says Martin, pointing to a small elderly man with an extremely short neck and an almost perfectly round face. "We usually call him Bohr," he says. "We call him Bohr in honor of the famous theoretical physicist Niels Bohr, our one time professor at the days back in Stockholm."

     Our Bohr didn't react to this introduction. He kept on talking to the person he was in conversation with. I noticed his eyes were unusually alive when he talked, maybe more so than Albert Einstein's might have been.

     "Have you ever met Albert Einstein," I ask Olaf that Martin called Bohr. I asked when he stopped talking. I immediately added a question about how he felt I might help humanity to get out of its nuclear nightmare that Einstein had started.

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Stories about  Sex from novels by Rolf A. F. Witzsche