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In their mailings, the authors of the reports give them names, followed by number. But we may doubt that, if they are as they describe themselves, they own a real personality, in the sense we understand it. It would be for instance possible that they recognise each other with olfaction. The letters and the reports are all signed with a finger-stamp. Would it be the signature of a written document with the sweat of the fingers ? The texts describes beings which would behave, which would perceive themselves as cells from a body and not as real individuals. The belonging to a ethnic group seems to be for them a much stronger feeling than the feelings for their wife of momentarily for their children. One perceives that quite well through the way they deal with us. In their writings they are very polite. But, under this politeness is a complete indifference for the individuals we are. The contactees seem to be before all guinea-pigs. Only the cephalic activity deserves their attention, and that would be also the case for me. Even if my correspondents are full of enthusiast for my "exceptional abstraction ability" they do not mean it with feelings. My brain interests them, not me. My private life, my worries would leave them If we are really in contact with an extraterrestrial ethnic group, these beings would understand us with great difficulties. It seems that they are, we said it, deprived of unconscious49 (no artistic or religious activities). They should observe with a certain stupefaction our phantasmagoric productions and our strange metaphoric language. The authors of the texts call a cat a cat, that's all. The poetry and the sense of humour seem to have no reality for them. You just have to read their writings to be convinced of that. If, on this hypothetical planet, some being have the function of psychologists, then they must be people looking to the encephals with scanners. About this subject, I have a quite amusing anecdote to tell. Since fifteen years I am puzzling these people. Till now they never got in directly in contact with me, mistrusting scientists like the plague (as they are people susceptible to bring evidences of their existence). As I refused to refrain my interest for this affair, they finally wanted to know more about me. Therefore they transmitted us, through the Spaniards, an invitation to go to Madrid, in 1988. We accepted this invitation and were housed in the luxury hotel Sandvy. 124 completely indifferent. Extraordinary stories.