“One day,” I confessed, “I was working for my father, fixing up a house of his that had fallen into disrepair I went out to check on the dilapidated mailbox, and, when I opened it, some movement caught my eye. I looked closer and, once my vision had adjusted, I recoiled. The inside was coated in wriggling earwigs that had nested there. My stomach turned. I loathed them. I wished to destroy them, not for any practical reason, but because I found their existence to be intolerable.
“I wondered sometimes what other, superior species would think of us.”
“Please,” the ambassador asked with a wave of her tentacles, “if you could just point us towards the dinosaurs.”