SPOCKRATES IN YMOR.      In the far away Land of Ymor there lived a young lad whose name was Alaric. But his friends always called him Alice because Alaric was a bit of a sissy from birth. He didn’t enjoy any of the games the other boys liked to play. Wizards & Dragons left him cold. Witch-hunter failed to thrill him. Knight versus Giant gave him no feeling of accomplishment. No…Alaric preferred to dream of being a beautiful princess who was rescued by a valiant knight who then married her (him) and with whom he (she) lived happily ever after.      Naturally, this caused his father Edric the Bold, and his mother, the fair Melesaunt, a great deal of concern. So, when, one day, the far-famed wizard, philosopher, and child-psychologist, Spockrates the Great, chanced to be visiting Ymor, Edric sent for him to inquire of him what might be done to help young Alaric to be more manly. Dr. Spockrates listened to the complaints of Edric and Melesaunt with great attention for he saw, at once, that this was no ordinary case of a child who was afflicted with cowardice, in the ordinary sense of the word. This evident unmanliness was of a different sort altogether. Spockrates’s bushy eyebrows drew together in a deep furrow of bemusedness. “Hum!” he said. “Most interesting, Sir Edric. But I must interview the lad, myself, before I can pronounce a cure (if cure there be) for this condition.” Sir Edric nodded in understanding and at once sent for young Alaric.      “Tra-la-la-la-lah!” sang young Alaric, as he flounced into his father’s Audience Chamber. “Good morning, Pater!” he continued in a high falsetto. “Good morning, Mater! Good morning, Strange Man with the Beard and the Spectacles (which haven’t even been invented yet)!”      “Harrumph!” Edric rumbled. “Ah, good morning…er…son. This gentleman,” he added, with a nod at Dr. Spockrates. “Is (as you so astutely observed) a complete stranger to you. His name is Dr. Spockrates.”      “Ah!” piped Alaric. “A pleasure to meet you Dr. Spockrates…uh…may you live long and prosper!”      The aforementioned venerable gentleman appeared rather startled at young Alaric’s effusiveness, but smiled gently enough at the young lad. “Why, thank you, young man,” he said. “We are here to serve.”      “Good!” said Alaric. “I’ll take a cheeseburger and a coke.”      His parents and the good doctor tactfully ignored this audacious anachronism on the part of the author and, instead, explained to Alaric reason for the doctor’s visit.      “Oh!” said Alaric, when they were done. “I see.”           “So, young man,” Spockrates said genially. “Perhaps you can explain to all of us why you behave so damned effeminately?”      “Why, of course I can, you dolt!” Alaric said rudely. “You see, Dr. Spockrates, what neither of my parents realize is…I’m secretly a girl!”      “What?” cried his audience in turn. (Making for a total of three “Whats” what?)      “Explain yourself!” roared his father. Who had a sudden vision of finding out that his only son and heir had been replaced by a changeling from the hollow hills. (And, when you think about it…maybe the idea that his child had been stolen by the fairies wasn’t that far off). “And that eftsoons or right speedily!”      “Okay, pop!” Alaric responded. “Y’see…it’s like this…” and he proceeded to explain the whole theory of gender dysphoria, with a brief review of the Benjamin Standards of Care, and an amazingly astute analysis of the cases of Christine Jorgenson, Renee Richards, Canary Conn, Jan Morris, and the Journal of one Cassandra Morrison. (Amazing because, of course, none of these people had yet been born…nor would they be for several centuries, at least. But young Alaric, as you can see, was a very foresighted young lady).