The Decision of the Space Exploration Council of the United Nations
The moment of truth had arrived. The bell rang, and thousands of heads turned towards the podium at the centre of the huge hall.
The Great Council was suddenly hushed.
The ballot on permitting the use of nuclear energy in space exploration had ended in a tie, it was now up to the Chairman of the Council to wield the casting vote.
He rose, in a cold sweat, his hands shaking slightly from his heightened awareness of the momentous import of the occasion.
For a moment, he struggled against a sudden flare-up of the dyslexia that had troubled him from childhood. Thanks to his tremendous mental training, he soon had it under control. He cleared his throat, and spoke...and in the process, forever buried the hopes of mankind:
"You ask me to decide whether we should permit the use of unclear energy in space exploration" said he. "Well, I vote against it. It's very name spells risk and uncertainty".
The Zwigillian embassador rubbed two of his tentacles together. For the foreseeable future, Deep Space, and the tremendous survival and trading benefits that it held for whomsoever would control it, would belong to Zwigill alone. Mankind would be relegated to watching TV and working in marketing and other paper shuffling jobs. And the Zwigillians would turn them into slaveeeeeees...
Zwigill the squid awoke with a sudden start. That old dotard Wang Wong had just noisily unlocked the door to the kitchen of the tacky little restaurant. What a weird dream, thought Zwigill, dazed, staring out of his glass tank. Little did he know that Wong's lunchtime menu that day was "fried squid noodles".