The day finally dawns when I stop referring to the Southernmost Galaxy as home and this is when the real settling in has begun. After a specified period of time I take myself and my nearest and dearest off to an official ritual where I am inducted into a brand new tribe, am asked to swear an oath of allegiance to this new tribe and its ruler and a few days later receive in the post a sparkling new Cross Galaxy Nomad Permit. This puce coloured one will allow me considerably more freedom in moving around the galaxy than my previous one.
I have taken much advantage of this liberty, exploring new planets as often as possible and each time am thrilled to pass through the Portation Gateways with barely a hiccup as I flash the maroon book at sleepy men manning the entry points to these planets. I even smile smugly as those that still hold the Green Mamba Permit wait in endless lines, fidgeting anxiously in case they are refused entry and sent back to the Southernmost Colony in disgrace. And even though this once happened to me (another entire epistle entirely) I still breath a sigh of relief at being able to do so much travelling with so little trauma.
I stop feeling like an alien and begin to call myself an immigrant! It’s certainly an adventure and it takes a very long time before I adjust, some people never do, but that’s why they invented spacecraft.
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