Yeah. We don't worry about this petty shit in the Glorious Martian Future. I'll probably go back to being an Empress tomorrow, and I will be precisely the same obnoxious cat I was before. If you have a problem with me, have a problem with the cat, or the claws, or the teeth-- not the goddamn pronoun.

I realize I am railing against precisely nobody to whom I will ever have to actually speak. Y'all are absolutely good and have been just fine today. <3 I just... yeah, I have to do this, including the growling and hissing and parading around in what we 25th c. folk laughably recall you rubes thinking of as "male" social regalia.

(It doesn't matter, you piss off a Martian of any gender, you're canonically gonna get a big tiger wang in your face as they swagger up and roar down at your tiny crunchy little body. We've all basically got everything here, barbaric Terran scum. <3 )