Once more I am floating amidst millions of brown stars, asteroids and debris. An astronaut lost in space. How can I be so lost while surrounded by metal walls? Is it knowing that I'm millions and millions of miles from civilization? That the likelihood of anyone coming by is so remote that I could die out here, alone, and no one would even know I existed?

I watch as entire nebulas join and form around me. Perfect spheres, hungry for company, reaching out with gravitational arms and fingers scrabbling for substance and mass. I know what it's like all the way out here wishing for the warmth of another celestial body, joining together to find something more, becoming larger than life, swelling with self importance, ignoring the utter futility of it all as best we can.

With the omnipotence of the self aware, my body turns and with conscious effort I push and pull the galaxies within my grasp. I create, destroy, find meaning as well as futility. I know it can't last but it seems to go on forever.

The end is near. My little cocoa worlds have swirled and come to terms with their new existence but I am not content. Unlike them, I seek order. But with order comes responsibility. Out of chaos, order must again be created and I will be responsible. I will create that order. Without me, none of this would exist.

To think just a few moments (eons?) ago I was a simple barista. The smell of that ancient bean my reason for living. Well, reason for making a living anyway. The gravitational pull of the bean itself surpassed all logic, defying us to survive in the relational middle of nowhere just to have one more sip of home. I tell you, it never ceases to amaze me.

Just as I finally allow myself to drift, forgetting all my cares, responsibilities, what I was even - I hear the familiar shudder of normalcy being injected into my reality once again. With a whump of physics, the big bang if you will, all of reality comes tumbling down. Java rain drenches me. The metal walls weep with me.

"Gravity restored. Sorry for the inconvenience." Like an intercom announcement fixes everything.

"Got it, thanks." Back to work.

"every time someone opens that damn door I get shivers up and down my spine" yells a surreal looking man sitting by the window. Probably apart of plan 9, the savage.

When I look over to him he yells again
"are you gonna close it? or are we turning this into a winter wonder land?"

I quickly close the door and continue on.
"ah" I mutter under my breath as I spot the group I came to meet.

I order my "behemoth" double shot of espresso and fill it to the brim with sweetened condensed milk. Now that will give your chest hairs a perm, the old stuff is just weak now that the caffeine rations are re instated. I have been reduced to rely on old fashioned sugar, I feel like a class 1, disgusting.

The other races here know we do not approve of their primitive ways. Maybe this is why i get such an uncomfortable welcome. Anyway you look at it they are far less superior to the class 5 and class 10 races i belong to and associate myself with. I couldn't care less about their undeveloped opinions, if they only had a taste of my intelligence they would know the real truth.

I sit with my group and start the mindless introductions

"How about that weather" I ask looking at Tristoni. He smiles and looks back down to his Star Port weekly reader. Savon tells me not to worry about the parasite that was sizing me up as I walked in.

"he is less than you, just look at the purplish hue of his skin."

We all laugh and she continues.

"I mean really why do they think they are so great, If it was up to me all the plan 9 idiots would be thrown out into supernova 3."

Tristoni looks up and joins in the conversation.

"He tried to give me the evil eye as I walked in too. He's a low life. Maybe if he had half the intelligence we have installed in our bodies he would understand why we HAVE to look down on people like him"

I add

"Your right, if it wasn't for class 5, plan 9 would be extinct, and how do they thank us? with stares and rude comments"

we all sigh and Savon mutters "what a world"

I get up to get my own copy of the Star Port reader and notice the barista is a part of class 4. I can sense trouble brewing, well actually she is probably the one doing all the sensing.

When i ask for the reader she tells me it is 12 Star Port rations. I know i should keep my mouth shut but maybe the mix of class 5 and 10 in me makes that impossible. When I know something is not right i have to say it. It is my nature.

"Well my friend Tristoni got one for free. In fact I don't think I have ever given a ration for your remedial literature."

She responds "Well in case your not aware of the heightened senses of class 4 allow me to remind you. Not only did I hear every word you said about my brother, but I am aware of your intentions. I would suggest that you and your friends leave now"

I return to my seat. Savon tries to tell me it is not a big deal and this is how superiority gets treated these days. It doesn't work, I cannot get the pair out of my head. "who cares about your sensory programming, who cares about your sensitive purple skin" i think to myself, "we have been putting sensory programming in dogs for eons, my intelligence software is far greater, who does she think she is. 12 rations...."

I get up and Tristoni tells me I am going against my better judgement. I hate how he knows my intentions before I tell him. How does he know my plans? He is a pure breed class 10, so I suppose I will never understand what life is like to him.

Somehow he knows i do not plan on just walking out, and I cannot argue with him, I have tried and he is always right about what he assumes. Sometimes even class 10's get on my nerves, they can be quite condescending.

I walk up to the purple man and ask "so you class fours think just because you were spawned from the same cess pool you can walk all over veterans?" The man looks up to me and says "yes"

Surprised by his boldness I am at a loss for words, which very rarely happens. I pause then continue

"I am installed with the most sophisticated intelligence that has every been created. It was a part of my training in the 2nd Intergalactic war, do you not respect that?! Do you not respect what I have given up for your meager existence?!"

He smiled and said "Do you respect the spit in your eye?"

Again I am dumbfounded, these feelings are frustrating to me because I have not felt them since I was a youth. Before I can make sense of his statement, he spits in my eye.

From across the room Tristoni gets one look at my face and tells me that my plans were made hastily and they will not work. "Fuck you Tristoni" I yell and go at the beast with all my fury.

Once again Tristoni was right, I need to find less pretentious friends.

I had assumed the man was a class 4 who are programmed into espionage, I was wrong. If only I had a little more class 10 in me. Curse my creator for turning me into a mutt.

The beast was a class 6. Hand to hand combat software. "Why do we even have this ancient technology" I ask myself as he throws me out the door and his gorilla like fists cave down onto my body. My sense of pain was removed long ago, and he knows this. He simply is trying to disrupt my programming. What a jerk.

I cant get away from him and Tristoni and Savon just stand a look at the beast.

The purple man stands up and laughs, he picks me up off the ground and says "sorry for the malfunctions" and goes back inside to a cheering crowd.

What a world I mutter, and Tristoni says "Next week lets meet at that Big Star coffee house over in sector 6"

Maybe thats a good idea. Star Port hasn't been cool for some time now, but for the life of me i cannot remember what sector 6 is. Suddenly the world is a little more confusing. Hmm, I guess it must be the weather.

It was his work that brought him to this part of the galaxy. As a young traveling salesman, Bodoh methodically scouted out potential buyers for his companies new cleaning product, NGC 409. He had made his way across the four Jovian planets of the Sirius Star System and had done quite well in his efforts. After establishing several recurring sales accounts and thereby establishing a certain residual income, Bodoh intended to celebrate.

The next morning Bodoh decided to sit down for an expensive breakfast, "Perhaps some of the local river food, which I usually can't afford," he thought to himself. So, after some minimal inquiry at the local travel station, he found himself sitting at the bar of the “Jovial Café,” the solar system’s premier coffee house. While browsing the menu, he came across a beverage with the unique name, Lopi Kuwak. He recalled some years ago his friend Lelucon telling him that, "On the smallest of the four Jovians, you will find the home of one of space’s most rare and sought after beverages, Lopi Kuwak." He couldn't believe it, this was a once in a lifetime opportunity. An overwhelming sense of curiosity had taken over all thought processes of our friend, he was consumed with this advantageous situation he found himself in. The time had come for him to order his very first vial of Lopi Kuwak.

Bodoh waited a moment in hope that someone else would order the drink before him and he could listen in to the way it was ordered, for of fear of making a fool of himself or placing an improper order. He had made a similar mistake at BuckStar's and vowed it would never happen again. But nobody showed and the anxiety was becoming too much to bear. After briefly surveying the surrounding area to assess if anyone else had already ordered the beverage, Bodoh placed his order. “I’ll have a ‘stellar Lopi’” he said, trying to appear as if he drinks them regularly. Like most fine dining facilities, the prices are never openly displayed on menus and signage and this was the case at the Jovial. Bodoh’s throat practically imploded when the bartender replied, “That’ll be 1,275 star credits.”

“1,275 star credits?!?” Bodoh thought, “That’s a week’s wages!” But the cultural pressure, the attention he had already received from other patrons upon hearing him place his order, and the fact that the bartender had already begun preparing his drink made it impossible for him to cancel his order and avoid the astronomical fee. He reached into his pocket and removed his iPaid, connected to the payment module and transferred the requested credits to the Jovial Cafe. It was done.

A moment later, the bartender arrived with the drink. The crystalline container sat upon a thin leaf of the local Buritan tree and was neatly garnished with a small portion of dehydrated Kotoran root. He had thought about requesting Tikus cream, but supposed the beverage should be consumed neat, since the bartender never offered. He smelled the rich aroma of the coffee and as he leaned in to take his first sip, he was interrupted, "You're not going to drink that are you?" He peered down the bar and noticed a middle-aged man, not a year beyond 138, sitting and drinking nothing more than room temperature water. As Bodoh lowered his glass the man prodded again saying, "Were you really going to drink that?"

Bodoh wasn't sure whether he should be insulted at the rudeness and untactful approach of the man or fearful that the man new something he didn't, but should. "What do you mean?" asked Bodoh. "Well, it's just that, you were going to drink that," the man responded. "Of course I was, that's why I paid for it and it cost me quite a bit of credits at that," replied Bodoh. "What's your name boy?" asked the stranger. "I'm Bodoh and who are you?" "I'm Kebenaran, but my friends call me 'Keb'." Bodoh wondered whether the man actually had any friends. "So Keb, why shouldn't I drink this?" Bodoh insisted. Keb took his glass of water, raised it up and peered through it, as if to admire its clarity. He then slowly downed half of the liquid and gave an obvious "Ahhh," indicating his enjoyment. He raised his eyebrows, smiled and nodded his head, as if to say, "Now, that's good!" After a moment of contemplation, Keb began to explain to the boy his reasoning behind his interjection.

The bartender was watching this little drama unfold and just before Keb could begin his explanation, the bartender interrupted by saying, "Listen pal, we don't take kindly to harassment here. This gentleman ordered this fine beverage and deserves to enjoy it in peace." As if the bartender never spoke or Keb was completely deaf, he began to explain once again his reasoning for his disturbance. Seeing this, the bartender quickly moved down to Keb's end of the bar and stated, "You finish your drink and get out!" Had the bartender not been an Ular, Keb might have continued the defiance. Never mind the size, the demeanor of the bartender alone was enough to build consensus. "All right, all right," Keb said sarcastically. He slowly finished his water in one pass, staring at the bartender the whole while. He then got up from his seat and made his way towards the exit.

As the man arose Bodoh hurriedly took a full gulp of his now luke warm beverage in anticipation that he would be interrupted once again. As the flavor filled his mouth, he tried imagining the liquid embedding itself in each taste receptor cell. He wanted to maximize this experience, as it very likely would never happen again. His first response was nothing spectacular, in fact, after this whole ordeal, he was quite disappointed. He made a slight frown, down turning his eyebrows and closing his eyes in an attempt to route all sensory power from his vision and hearing to his sense of taste. As the flavor made its way down to the afferent nerves, a completely different gustatory reaction was experienced, one of disgust. "This is the most horrible drink I've ever had," he mumbled, just audible enough to be noticed. The bartender gave the customary sneer, reserved only for rude customers. It seemed to have an extra hint of agitation since he had just defended him from Keb's insistent chatter. "What is this drink made from?" he asked the bartender in hopes that he could be educated on the subject.

Kebenaran heard this utterance just before he reached the door. He turned his head over his should, just enough so Bodoh could hear him say, “Why do you think we call Sirius the ‘dog star'.”

The soft chimes of Boonti music played in the background as Richard walked in the Cafe. The sweet aroma of a hundred varieties of coffee, emanated all around the room.

There she was, the Vix woman he dreamed about. She had short hair that contrasted wonderfully on her bare, blue shoulders. She was staring at her cup, wondering which fine civilization crafted it.

He stood there, transfixed and speechless. He knew well enough that no human has ever been with a Vix.

The Institute for Greater Biological Studies has not been able to secure clearance to get information about this "new" race. At best, data exchange was superficial and was done on a mostly symbolic manner. There was a lot of work to be done that kept the Terran diplomatic contingency very busy.

A "cultural" exchange was the first step.

In a manner of speaking, she was the first student from that star system to study on Earth.

She abruptly looked towards him.

He was transfixed.

Almost entranced.

Knowing yet not knowing what her steely gaze meant. No words were spoken across the distance and yet meaning was conveyed in an instant. It permeated his humanity and made him shiver as he walked towards her, unsure of what he was doing and unsure of what he was supposed to do after.

Her gaze was understanding yet compelling.

He sat down, unmindful of the glances that seemed to have chilled the air of the Cafe. It was after all, an all human Cafe.

They were silent in ecstasy as she beheld him with her thoughts. He understood, yet could not speak. Part of it was for the unknown, part of it an unfamiliar pleasure that seems to have come from nowhere. It was a mental nirvana.

Another android walks through the door as the familiar chime of the event leaves it's resonance in the Starport - "ding!"

Her eyes don't blink. Her gaze fixed. She's still looking out in to deep space from her window seat. Wired from the 2nd cup of coffee she can't sit still but can't put her energy to good use either. The only act of creativity she had made in the past week was the epiphany that increasingly vast scientific advances have left no place for the philosophers, the poets and romantics. Maybe even that was wrong. Maybe she just can't cope with the way things have turned out.

Space seemed to stare back at her like a dull eye close to death, stripped of it's creativity and life-force while simultaneously holding all the answers.

Alex wasn't happy with where she found herself; Alone. On a ship. In the middle of deep space, without a paddle to get back to what she lost. What she lived for before everything changed.

If she could at least convey the pain to someone it would help. But all anyone wanted were the stats of the day, the new prediction models and the reasoned explanations of events. A cathartic outburst wouldn't bode well on this ship and she didn't want to rock the boat. She needed to feel creative but couldn't - she was too late to that party and now the premise had been laid there was no turning back. She lived in a cold reality and had no love to lighten her life. She needed him back and his memories only made her belly ache.

"One more for the road!" she laughed at the waiter "...make it a double". The was no road. There was only her afternoon shift - another fifth spent plugged in to that buzzing engine. It was turning her in to part of it. She was a mental cog in the ship's logic machine. It was rarely wrong but it was never even close to real. Real, she thought, was a planet with an ecosystem. Real, was being part of something organic, being part of another person's ecosystem.

"Alex..." the waiter says as he approaches from behind the counter "... enjoy"

She checks the time as she stands up and downs the coffee in one, taking it straight off the serving tray.

She'd be back tomorrow for more. Maybe then the view would have a better answer for her musings...

"ding!"