You stood at the desk of your new Assignment. The holo-screen displayed a celebratory welcome, then led you through a small tutoring of the controls and how to handle certain situations. Besides that, you were on your own. At the top of the screen, it read Interspecies Receptionist. A shortened term for 'you have to greet every alien that walks through those doors, quickly learn how to properly communicate, then tell then where they're headed.' Command must hate you. You had put 'Xenophobe' into your file.

You lived as a member of the Democratic Trade Consumerate. It was a human empire, and one that had endured the threats of inter-system travel for centuries. Compared to some empires, it was fleeting and weak. To others, humanity was godlike. You had wanted nothing more than to stay on Earth, but it had quickly become enveloped in the horrible, destroying heat of the new red giant at the center of the Sol System. Now, you were at an alien embassy halfway across the galaxy.

Oh, how quickly things can change.

The endless depths of space had killed whatever interest in space you might have has beforehand, and seeing how strange some of the aliens - or Xenos, as you were supposed to call them - looked, you couldn't help but feel overwhelmed and out of your element. Home was not in the sky! Yet here you were. And home was gone.

Your first day was a hectic mess.

Some of the Xenos were furry, others resembled birds, arthropods, or even fungi! They each had different languages, different views on humanity, and often drastically different ways of 'verbally' communicating. Your brain felt like it had been cooked in a microwave, thrown in a washer, then beaten with a metal bat by the end of the day.

You could still feel the mental remnants of some of the telepathic aliens, and you could most certainly still see pink, flourescent fur stuck to your suit. One of them had gotten a bit... grabby.

A potential eternity of this awaited you, and you didn't like that prospect. However, there wasn't much you could do... even the home you rested in could never comfort you like your cabin had. Your cabin, now incinerated in the obliterating light of your home star. You sat down in the synthetic recliner, the metal walls of your apartment doing little to soothe your melancholy.