9-8-1900900

I tried my best to make friends today, I can't spend the rest of my life in a floating piece of metal without company, can I? But nobody appreciated the small talk. The only person who didn't give me a dirty look was the cube of jelly managing the kitchen. But well, he doesn't have eyes, nor does he care for informal conversation. He's a work-driven cube and only cares about doing his job well, which I can appreciate, I suppose..

Every alien has a different diet and different textures they can swallow, which made me think that managing this kitchen is a terrifying amount of work, but the cube explained that the food is a parody and easy to prepare. It's the same nondescript mush, given a random texture and color, then inserted with whatever the customer needs to stay healthy. There's no room to grow crops or keep animals for those few who need it, so I understand this is the best they can do. Still, I'm sad to never have a chicken dinner again.. But maybe that's a good thing here. As you're standing in line for food, you have to state your species and whether you can tolerate flesh or flora. So far I know, I'm the only resident on this ship who likes meat, but the stares I get from the tables don't make it tempting to ask. It's easier for me to lie I'm a herbivore, even though everyone knows that's not true.

I don't know why I'm trying to please them, they don't want to talk to me regardless.

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