A purple tentacle sprung out at my face from underneath Table 14. I jumped back, careful not to spill the pot of coffee in my left hand, nor the platter of pastries in my right. The one-eyed little girl whom the tentacle belonged to let out a cackle from behind the draped-down tablecloth. Her mother quickly scooped her up off of the carpet in her own tentacles and planted her firmly in her chair.
“Oh, I’m so very sorry!” cried the mother in Phlanomian. “I have no idea what’s gotten into her! She’s normally such a well-behaved child.”
“Oh…” I hesitated. “It… is… good.” Darn it. I reminded myself to review my interplanetary languages after my shift was over. I set down the platter in front of the two and scurried away to save myself any more conversation.
I sighed. My cafe was always crowded around this time. Every table was packed with customers from everywhere in the galaxy. The air was full of grating screeches, howls, and unfamiliar languages I couldn’t even begin to decipher. Children of all different species were smearing their faces against the floor-to-ceiling windows, peering out into the expanse of space and down at my bluish, smoggy home planet which my cafe orbited like a satellite.
My vision was suddenly blocked by a slimy yellow mitt reaching down from the ceiling, gripping an empty mug. I looked up and was met by half a dozen eyes, all sunk into the blobby yellow mass which the arm was attached to.
“Oh! So sorry, sir! I didn’t realize you were out!” I managed a smile as I refilled his mug to the brim. His flesh bubbled as he gurgled out what I hope was an expression of gratitude. He then oozed across the ceiling over to a bench, which I had bolted up there in between the hanging overhead lights. The trail of green slime he left in his wake was unsightly, but at least odorless. I could put off cleaning it for later.
I hurried back into my barista station before any more roadblocks could appear. I took a deep breath and forced another smile at the customer seated at the counter. He was an eight-foot tall Sarsualrean with bright blue fur, interrupted by streaks of gray. His four green eyes gave me a stone-cold stare from beneath his four bushy eyebrows. The dozens of military badges on his yellow coat gleamed in the light.
“‘Bout time I could expect some service ‘round ‘ere!” his gruff voice boomed.
“Yes, I’m so sorry si-!” I stopped short. I had understood his words perfectly. “Wait, you speak my language?”
The man let out a hearty guffaw and pounded his enormous paw on the counter. “What language DON’T I speak, sonny? I’ve been EVERYWHERE in this blasted galaxy!”
Almost none of my patrons had spoken my language to me before. For the first time, I didn’t have to fake my interest in a customer. “Oh my gosh! Thats-”
“Coffee,” he commanded.
“Oh, right! Sorry!” I hastily grabbed a mug from under the counter and filled it. A bit of the coffee splashed down onto the counter, the floor, and even my brand new work shoes, but I couldn’t have cared less. The second I was done pouring, the blue man snatched it from my hand and downed it in one swig. He slammed the mug back down onto the counter.
“Refill,” he ordered.
I took the mug back. Filling it more slowly this time, I asked my first burning question.
“So, how’d you learn my language?”
I slid the mug to the man. He drank it in one gulp again and passed it back to me.
“Hmm…” he paused, reclining in his seat. “I was called to these parts a few decades back by a planet with a bunch o’ rings. They said some people on a planet with a big red spot were tryin’ ta invade, and they needed my help ta stop ‘em. Some guys who looked like you happened to be livin’ on the rings planet, speakin’ that language, so I learned it from ‘em. Figured you might know it, too.”
I passed back his second refill. “Yeah, a lot of my people headed to that planet after ours got uninhabitable from pollution. Makes sense you’d run into them.” I took the mug back and refilled it. “So, you’re in the military?”
“Gee, how’d ya piece THAT one together?” the man chuckled, gesturing to the medals adorning his person. “General Xylathryp Hyaloo, at’cher service!”
A new voice squealed from across the room in Sragysian, a language I was pretty familiar with. “Wait! No way! General Hyaloo?!”
Hyaloo and I turned our heads. Down at the end of the counter sat a stubby little orange cylinder-shaped guy with dozens of noodly appendages wiggling out from his top and bottom. His three eyes protruded upward like antennae, and his smile stretched to cover half of his entire body. He hopped closer, from stool to stool, until he was seated right next to Hyaloo, staring up at him in amazement.
“Wow…” the orange guy gasped, “General Hyaloo, sir, I’m a huge fan! I learned about a bunch of your battles in school! I even followed all of your escapades in the Gualthir region!”
Hyaloo’s booming laugh filled the air again. He switched his language to Sragysian. “The Gualthir region! Now THOSE were the days! Back when I could wield a Nruja Lance without rupturing a vertebrae!”
“And how impressive you looked wielding it!” He replied, emphatically. There was something familiar about his voice that I couldn’t quite place. He went on. “I actually got a few of your victory speeches to air on my channel! Ratings absolutely skyrocket whenever you open your mouth!”
My eyes went wide. “Wait! Are you Lanthamar Kzull?” I asked in my best Sragysian.
The orange guy turned to me, beaming. “Yep! You know my show?”
“Do I know the twenty-six o’clock news? Yeah, man! EVERYONE knows your name!”
A few of Kzull’s appendages turned blue. “Aww, stop it! You’re making me blush!”
“Hey, yer right!” Hyaloo belted. “I’ve heard that name before, too! Gotta say, ya look pretty young fer a big-shot celebrity!” He reached over and gave Kzull’s top ganglia a noogie.
“Oh, please, please! It’s really not that big a deal,” Kzull chuckled. “I’ve only been covering regional stories so far. I’ve barely even been on TV for a full cycle!”
Kzull suddenly turned to me. “Oh, I’m so sorry! Where are my manners? We’ve already introduced ourselves. What’s YOUR name?”
“Oh, uh…” I hesitated, “it’s John.”
Kzull waited a moment for me to continue. “John?”
“Uh, John Smith.”
Kzull nodded. “Ah.”
There was an awkward pause. I nervously scratched the back of my head. My hair suddenly felt too shaggy.
Hyaloo broke the silence. “Well, go on! We already shared our life stories with ya! Surely you got somethin’ to share with the class!”
Kzull waited eagerly. I gulped.
“Well, uh… I opened this cafe around three and a half cycles ago…”
Kzull and Hyaloo waited for me to continue.
“...that’s it. I haven’t done much else since.” I said.
“Oh…” Kzull shifted, uncomfortably.
“Hm… sorry fer puttin’ ya on the spot like that, Johnny,” Hyaloo murmured.
“Oh, no, no!” I quickly cut in. “It’s fine! It’s not like I’ve got a problem with where I’m at or anything!”
“Oh, good. Good.” Hyaloo smiled.
“Ooh! What’s your favorite part of the job?” asked Kzull. If I didn’t know better, I’d have thought he was genuinely interested in me.
I scratched the stubble on my chin. “Hm… I guess… it’d be meeting guests like you.”
“Aww,” Kzull smiled, “you’ll make me blush again!”
“I get customers from all over the place,” I went on. “I guess hearing all of their stories allows me to live vicariously. I might be tied down to- er- currently working this job, but hearing the stories of the adventures everyone else goes on… the opportunities and excitement you all have access to… I can just imagine myself in your shoes when I hear you describe it over a cup of my coffee.”
There was a beat of silence in the room. “Huh,” chuckled Hyaloo, “ain’t that somethin’.”
“I don’t actually wear shoes,” Kzull interjected.
“Sorry,” I quickly added, “that might’ve been too personal. And shoe-reliant.”
“Oh, no, no, not at all!” Kzull reassured me. “Honestly, I’m flattered you think of us that way!”
Hyaloo looked around at the tables behind him. Several of my customers had begun to clear out to the parking deck, unanchoring their ships and flying off. “Uh oh, how long’ve I been ‘ere?”
Kzull stretched his eyes up to one of his ganglia, which I now realized had a tiny analogue watch on it. “Oh no!” He jumped up. “My next spot’s coming up! I gotta go!”
Kzull leaned over the counter and shook his top appendages rapidly. Coins flew out of his limbs and bounced away in all different directions. He straightened up. “That should cover it! Thanks for the chat!” Kzull quickly hopped down from his stool and sprinted toward the parking deck as fast as his ganglia would carry him.
Hyaloo and I watched Kzull run out. Hyaloo then turned back to me. He switched to my language again. “I think I got time fer one more cup o’ joe."
I nodded and filled his mug one last time. Hyaloo took it, stared down into his reflection in the mug, and smoothed down some of the fur on his head. He then drank half of the coffee, and set the rest back down on the table. He stood up, nearly bumping his head on one of the overhead lights.
“Well, I’m outta ‘ere.” Hyaloo reached into his coat and pulled out a crumpled bill. “Keep th’ change, Johnny.”
I took the bill and nodded. “Thank you for your patronage, sir.”
“C’mon, Johnny. It’s just Hyaloo to ya.” Hyaloo leaned in. “And don’t worry, kid. You’ll get outta ‘ere soon enough. I’m rootin’ fer ya.”
“Thank you, sir,” I responded.
“Tch.” Hyaloo straightened up and headed out toward his ship. The bell on the door tinkled as it swung shut behind him.
I was left alone at the counter. No new customers were coming in, and the few that were left seemed to be quietly wrapping up their meals. I took a rag and began wiping down the counter where I had spilled coffee earlier. I picked up the mug Hyaloo had left and cleaned the coffee ring underneath it. I paused, brought the mug over below my chin, and stared down into the half-empty mug. In the coffee’s reflection, an alien stared back at me.