“No, no. We’re not Atlantians, we’re Humans.”

“Yes, we understand you have many subcultures. But you’re already registered and protected under the treaties, so you don’t need to waste everyone’s time with this charade.”

“No, you don’t understand. We’re not from Atlantis, we’re from Earth.”

“It doesn’t matter which star you’re from. You’re already signed on. The whole species.”

“Humans?”

“Atlantians.”

“We’re not Atlantians!”

“Look, we get it. You’re a splinter group, or a rebel cause, or for some other reason think that you’re entitled to special privileges in the interplanetary arena. But you, being Atlantian, are already protected. You don’t need to register your planet or solar system, regardless of any infighting. Your species is registered. As a species. Not as a collection of cultures and planetary governments. As long as you continue to follow the guidelines, no one will bother you.”

“But we’re human! We’ve never met any of you before! We don’t have a clue what these guidelines are!”

“Then I suggest you take it up with your local interplanetary Atlantian ambassador. It’s their job to ensure their planets are informed of their rights and responsibilities.”

“What part of we’re not Atlantian do you not understand?”

“Any of it, truly. I may disagree with Havothiran governance this century, but you don’t see me denying that I’m Havothi.”

“But if you said you weren’t Atlantian, no one would contest it.”

“Of course. Because I’m obviously Havothi. None of you have proper legs, so I’d equally deny any assertion that you are Havothi. But you’re clearly Atlantian, so claiming that your Earth Human culture needs to be registered separately is as idiotic as if I were to ask to register Mabroshil separately from the Havothiran governance.”

“I’ve never even seen an Atlantian.”

“Well, if you look in a mirror. . .”

“I see a human. Look, we’re not getting anywhere. Can we see your manager, or boss, or whoever’s in charge of the whole interplanetary system registration thing?”

“If you insist, but I warn you that you’ll get no different answer. Ven’vax’xillon! Send up for Eiry’yan’nant.”

“Is Eeryanent able to make actual decisions?”

“Yes. Ah, yes. Eiry’yan’nant, sorry for the interruption. These are a group of Atlantians who wish to petition for individual placement of their planet. They insist on being called ‘Human.’”

“Thank you, Rox’xav’veto, I’ll take it from here.”

“We’re not Atlantian.”

“Are you quite certain of that?”

“Absolutely.”

“Then, by all means, let’s get you registered. Please, on this map, designate the planets which are included within your - Human, was it? - space.”

“Does that include uninhabited worlds, or only those with an active human presence?”

“Inhabited only. Any stray planets located within the same solar system as a member world are of course considered part of that world’s territory. You need not concern yourself with the defence of resource worlds.”

“Then, just this one.”

“Interesting. As you say, your world is no longer listed as an active Atlantian territory. So, as a. . . ‘new’ species, you are welcome to petition for inclusion into the interplanetary sentient database and, presumably, all the rights, protections, and privileges of that position?”

“Yes.”

“Excellent. As this is your, ahm, ‘first contact’ with those outside your own species, there are a few things you should be aware of. Worlds in the registry are not to be approached without giving due warning and receiving permission to continue. This includes protected but uninhabited resource worlds. Taxes are due every third cycle of Mabroshil 7, eighty kilotons of matter, payable in any form. Overdue collections can include your resource worlds, home planet, or sun. Any questions?”

“. . .”

“Yes?”

“Is it too late to register as Atlantian?”