Theory: Part of the reason for much of the socially-driven guilt and negativity about the body and sexuality is because of clothing hiding it, as if the normal human anatomy is something to be avoided and shamefully concealed. Without clothing to obscure and interfere, people would be effectively forced to confront the natural state of themselves and others, and without the perceived stigma of hiding and shame, such negative attitudes and personal guilt would soon vanish as people became more acclimated to people all being different from each other, since any differences would be openly displayed and unable to be treated as something one could or should hide.
(#00670 - A305)
They called it Eden. One of the few Havenworlds that humans settled and kept as heavenly.
Well. Except for that one island that, somehow, became the native residence of everything sharp, vicious, venomous or all three at once. Islands just like it seemed to be standards on all human colony worlds. Except for N'oz. The whole planet was like that[1].
And, like the Eden of legend, precipitation happened by mists. The winds did not exceed a gentle breeze, and almost the entire planet was a paradisiacal garden.
The next big surprise was the natives.
The buildings were simple and uncomplicated. Homes were places to sleep or share meals. Studios and workplaces were full of light and creativity.
Markets were stalls where people apparently dropped off whatever they had to trade and picked up whatever they needed.
And workshops were the only places where anyone wore clothing.
Even then, it was clearly protective gear only.
A mottled young woman tapped Ezi on the shoulder. She shouldn’t have been able to, since Ezi had her cloak-field on.
“Are you done hiding in the bushes, stranger?”
Ezi dropped her cloak and stood up. “I was trying to observe without interfering. Thanks. I’m Ezi. You are?”
“Moon Starsong,” said the native. “That’s a lot of armour.”
“It’s a life suit. It’s designed to protect me from everything.”
“Well, you don’t need it any more. You can get comfortable now.”
Wait. She expected Ezi to strip. Okay. This was happening.
But on this world, nudity was the norm.
“I’m… from a very different place. Nudity is a taboo.”
“Why?”
“Long established tradition.” Ezi got down to her Ship’s Skins, which was next to naked, anyway. Packed her suit in a capacious bag from one of its storage slots. “For me, this is comfortable.”
“That’s… really concealing.”
Ezi laughed. “I’ve had people accusing me of being indecent in this lot. Well, Ambassador, I think you need a briefing on the Galactic Alliance…” She explained other worlds, intergalactic trade, the Fellowship of Terran Planets and, finally, how hardly anybody went naked.
“Oh,” said Moon. “Offensensitivity. We have just the thing.” She dashed off to a stall and came back with a peculiar pendant. “We call these shimmer fields. They cover what anyone else would consider offensive.” She put it on and pressed a concealed button.
Suddenly, she was clad neck-to-toe in silver sparkles. Something like a cross between body paint and a discotheque.
“This is the default setting, of course. I can set it to any colour I want. And any shape. I could be covered in fish if you like.”
“Gold is fine,” said Ezi. “And you’re going to need a solid pair of shoes. Workplace safety standards.”
[1] Except for an isolated island/continent that is the next best thing to paradise. Nobody native to N'oz lives there and nobody knows why.
[Muse food remaining: 32. Submit a prompt! Ask a question! Buy my stories!]
