The Speed of Light (Rail

The Sexual Frontier

Rufus R. Ryans

Imagine for a moment you are on a Starfleet vessel in space. Imagine the scientists, the ambassadors, and of course, the soldiers. Starfleet were foremost explorers, however. Tasked to simply observe and provide the first glimpse of the Federation, for the civilisations yet to join. And Star Trek did provide a glimpse into such virgin territory… a new world of sexual experiences.

Alien races that are 100 percent queer and polyamorous who have sex all the time. Spock over-coming his Vulcan sex urges by “fighting” Kirk. Star Trek was surprisingly, very horny. But that couldn’t be! Of course not! Star Trek is a fun family sci-fi show! This isn’t the Gene Roddenberry Vision™!

Star Trek was cool. It was new, homoerotic, ground-breaking. But was it sexy? People loved Star Trek and were falling in love with aliens. Star Trek challenged people, myself included, and intellectually, it is where my love for science began. And it did much the same for many people. It wasn’t about the sex; it was about the science.

However, the men of Star Trek really gave something to be, well, intellectually challenged by. There was Tom Paris, the charismatic Starfleet officer. William Ryker, the sexy bear with a sexy beard. And Spock, the man who was often read as a sex-neutral asexual, was also undeniably endearing. Everyone was swooning over them. In fact, it was Spock and Kirk’s relationship that sparked the beginnings of slash fanfiction, smut.

I am not leaving out the women. Captain Kathryn Janeway – now she really was the first girlboss. Facing new villains and meeting new heroes. Seven of Nine. No one else could have slayed those high heel boots across the USS Voyager. These women were strong. Not femme fatales or side-pieces. They were capable, independent – they had real agency. Deanna Troi; the Empath, Dr. Beverly Crusher; the Dancing Doctor; B’Elanna Torres; half-human half-Klingon.

Sexiness was deeply woven into visual character design. The uniforms of Star Trek can be considered quite revealing. An entire theory of costuming came from it. The more a garment suggests that it could simply slip off, revealing what is underneath, is sexier than nudity itself. And the gay costume designer, William Ware Theiss, was happy to apply this to both women and men alike. Nichelle, who played Lieutenant Uhura in the Original Series, stated “You might deduce that Bill Theiss enjoyed working with the female form. Hardly. In fact, Bill Theiss preferred girls who looked like boys.”

But what about the Gene Roddenberry Vision™? – one might ask. To which I would point out that Roddenberry wanted to have a pleasure planet, for our lovely Picard to go when he was pent up. Where we could see women kissing women, men kissing men, and even orgies taking place. Then there’s the fact that Betazoid weddings traditionally have all guests disrobe themselves. Or his narrative of an alien virus that makes you want to have sex with everyone. Okay – then who the hell exactly is the genius behind Gene Vision™?

Gene was an… interesting man. In fact, his idea of pleasure was (in his own words) “waves and waves of cum exploding out of me.” He wasn’t a categorically “good” person, but by the standards of the 60’s, many of his directorial choices were considered progressive. The skimpy outfits that clothed many of the women of Star Trek were welcomed by the actors. Following the extremely strict Hays Code, prohibiting profanity, violence, and even suggestive nudity in Hollywood – showing skin was liberating. Gene petitioned to have Nichelle, a prominent black woman, on centre stage in his stories.

However, this doesn’t entirely reveal what Gene Vision™ truthfully was. He resented women. To the extent of marring his writing so much, many people consider Star Trek: The New Generation’s first two seasons the worst in the whole franchise. He also cheated on his wife with multiple cast and crew members. Gene Vision™ doesn’t officially exist, not really. But it was the fanbase, the actors, the showrunners and the workers behind the scenes that made Star Trek what it is today. They made it sexy, in a good way.

And Star Trek was always sexy! That’s the real message here, the naked truth. Sex is an important part of human life, and Star Trek began a movement of sexual liberation on screen. Unfortunately, Gene Vision™ was cemented in the objectification of women and the removal of agency, especially of black women. In spite of this, Star Trek has managed to come a long way to where it is today. Star Trek exists in a universe where everyone can be sexually liberated, where the humanity of these characters can be considered before their sexuality.

So, I urge you. Go boldly where no one has gone before. Be horny. Watch Star Trek.

The Speed of Light (Rail)

Elizabeth Walker

ALINGA Runway cleared for takeoff, a clear morning is heralding this service. Onboard, we will fly though this small universe using highly sophisticated light rail technology. Red backed sentinels will oversee their metal dominion, protective of the finest blue spiral-patterned seating that $675 million of government money can buy. I give you: The Fare-Evader’s Guide to the Northern Canberra Galaxy.

ELOURA The air of this tundra blows in icy, colliding with an increasingly humid airlock interior. Representatives of the Eloura jurisdiction appear in the form of a young couple, deep in terse conversation. They are directly followed by another, shrink-wrapped in black spandex, his neon green socks pulled flush to shivering knees.

IPIMA Dried grass sprints alongside as we glide into the next dock. I see the husks of residential halls hovering to the right, old Fenner Hall gone feral, dystopian. Orange neuron skeletons litter the avenue with roadkill. They lie supine on their side, with white helmets disjointed. Cranial and skull-like, they reflect the sunlight like bleached plastic bone.

MACARTHUR ABC Canberra stands unadorned on the crossroads, traffic swarming before it. Onlooker to many, messenger to some. Inside the station, the radio corps that have been enlisted in service will broadcast to those few willing to listen. The young couple vacate the shuttle, braving the frost in tandem. Hotels with hundreds of tiny matchbox rooms have shot up from the earth. DICKSON The environs of this planet open up, streets suddenly wide. A few creatures mill around the forest floor, with glass trees towering above. Cranes swing their metal branches in the breeze.

SWINDEN Here, the glass trees are swiftly cut down to squat brick dwellings. Wire cages encircle asphalt courts, fencing in the inhabitants. They are clothed in matching uniforms, their bodies in a perpetual game. The ground is struck with force, as they run over, around, weaving between one another, up and back again, always focused, rhythmic.

PHILLIP The world has its back turned. The graffitied rears of houses are sheepish, afraid to meet my eye. Any unique terrain is obscured by scrubland, only occasionally peeking out from behind stiff-lipped pines. I spot a figure zooming across the scenery. A motorised skateboard, weilding a tiny dog on leash. The four-legged beast is frantic, barely keeping pace with the four-wheeled beast that drags it.

EPIC An empty expanse, either abandoned, or biding time in wait for harvest. The frozen plateau is packed hard by hooves and tyre tracks. Offseason has silenced the baying of all creatures, their convoys shuffled on. Freedom fighting has long since begrudgingly packed up, migrated, with no trace but memory remaining. White combat boots and moon-soled sneakers rush up to the doors, eager to be sheltered from the harsh elements outside.

SANFORD Passing by the light rail stables, the rest of the fleet are standing by. Pilots idle, hands twitching for another stint at the reins. To the left, a fish bowl is full of runners. They race no one and get nowhere. In ceaseless worship, they toil, Sisyphean, for the Club Lime cause. Carpet Choices and War Memorial stand side by side, their warehouses occupied, allegedly. There is a lack of life, despite the warning signs.

WELL STATION The Green Shed flashes by. Mecca for share house dwellers – an epicentre of cheap furnishings, wobbly tables and mismatched dining chairs. We pause at a platform. It is landmarked by a turnoff, suburbs with the names of fathers of friends I only vaguely remember. Mitchell, Franklin, Harrison - I sat at their family dining table eons ago, universes away. The loudspeaker warns us that the doors are closing. The doors never opened to begin with.

NULLARBOR A billboard floats above highrises, boasting “Times Square.” Maybe if I strained my neck, I could just about spot our Lady Liberty – Telstra Tower. And as the journey surged forward into cosmopolitan Canberra, I couldn’t help but wonder… If New York City is the Big Apple, what does that make Canberra? Rotten to the core?

MAPLETON The car creaks around the corner, protesting its own weight. The mechanical belly of this beast is suddenly bloated with passengers. A suburban sprawl seeps through the surroundings. Brown brick McMansions, piles all the colour of syrup, drip from streets and cul-de-sacs.

MANNING CLARK Apartments huddle together for warmth in lonely paddocks. White sedans roam the fields. Eight little dollhouses sit forlorn in a blasted heath, webbed like toes and joined at the unfortunate hip.

GUNGAHLIN The end of the line, furthest distance allowed by my public transport safety tether. Another terminal, mirror image of Alinga, played in reverse – passengers drain out instead of pour in. A new crowd is exchanged for old as I remain sat on my blue patterned perch, observing a faraway planet.

It is alien to me, although I too am an alien to this land. A blow-in from a distant station, unknown to the crowd now chattering around me. Judging, anonymous, from behind a paper mask and clicking laptop keys. My reflection on the dusty carriage window scowls at an uncaring audience.

Astrology and the Dating World

Alex Bekier

It doesn’t take a statistician to notice that belief in astrology, or the study of celestial objects and their impact on human life, is rising in popularity.

Evidence suggests that when societies are undergoing existential threats or stress, like pandemics, natural disasters, or conflict, they are more likely to turn to scientifically unfounded belief systems. Given the state of the world, this probably isn’t surprising.

This concept is corroborated by Dr Victor Grech, whose studies uncovered a surge of interest towards astrology in the wake of the 2016 American election. Additionally, the rise of astrological predilection is, perhaps as expected, highest amongst women.

As I am just like the other girls, I have a casual interest in astrology. But I have a much greater interest in asking men about astrology. What is even better than that, for me anyway, is going on a date and correctly ‘guessing’ their star sign. Little do they know, it is already listed on their Hinge profile. I have an Aries Venus and a Taurus Mercury, if that explains anything.

Whatever you believe, I don’t ask men their zodiac sign as a means of examining basic compatibility. It isn’t that I am searching for a common interest, nor do I use it as a way to mildly aggravate, however tempting that may be. It is definitely a method of finding out more about my date, but the outcome is not solely based on their reported sign.

I find it to be a useful tool in gauging potential worst qualities.

If interrogations result in a disdainful response, let alone a lecture, I can reasonably rule them out as a love match, or even a casual lover. I’m not searching for someone who is also interested in astrology. However, I am looking for someone who is relaxed enough to indulge all sorts of questions, and open-minded enough not to be immediately judgemental.

It also cannot be left unsaid – the primary reason I ask men about their star sign is to decipher if they are a misogynist or not.

Astrology has been, and remains, an interest that is predominantly enjoyed by women. Often, it is a safe and empowering space for us. It allows individuals to dig deep into areas of their life they may need to work on, work out. Through this, many women use their signs to find their own power. Writing off an interest in astrology as an irrational belief in the paranormal, immediately excludes the aspect of self-development sought after amongst committed believers.

While I couldn’t describe myself like that, it fills a practical function. It is dangerous being a young woman going on dates, even with people I already know. Unfortunately, many women like myself also must rely on surreptitious methods of vetting potential romantic partners.

When I polled women aged between 16 and 25 via Instagram, almost all respondents expressed that they also had negative experiences with men, after discussing astrology.

This isn’t breaking news, with respondents to previous surveys echoing the stories supplied through my Instagram study. In a 2018 Vice article, a male respondent stated that “If you bring that shit up with me, I’ll think you’re a mindless bimbo.” Delightful.

Another 2018 study by I. Andersson,

entitled Even the Stars Think That I Am Superior: Personality, Intelligence and Belief in Astrology proposes a link between belief and psyche. Findings divulged a negative correlation between belief in astrology and intelligence, and positively correlated narcissism with belief in astrology [in men]. For me, what is attractive isn’t about disbelief or belief, but rather about acceptance of one another’s beliefs, so long as they are not harmful.

My ideal date isn’t necessarily someone who has even a casual interest in astrology. In fact, I think it is someone relatively apathetic about it, but lets me enjoy my silly little stars while they enjoy their silly little sports. Or whatever it is that they like, that I myself take no interest in.

On the lighter side, in the youth hostel I stayed in while writing this, I quizzed some of my male roommates on their thoughts. Was it a red flag for them, if women ask about their star sign? My Canadian, American and Australian hostel mates all had the same response. Basically, “If you had asked me five years ago, I would have thought you were intellectually inferior, and even lectured you about it, but now I just answer and wait for the analysis”.

Unfortunately, I didn’t get a chance to ask the men in the room next door to us, who catcalled us on the way back from the showers, what they might have thought about it all. Something tells me I don’t need their star sign to work out if I want to date them or not.