8. A Strange Request at a Piano Bar

Location: Babel Bar, Free Station Pharos

Aliens: Human, Rivan

Babel Bar is dead, so you figure why not stop in for a drink. It's so slow the Rivan bartender isn't even bothering with radiating cheer and camaraderie. He's swirling water in a glass, just watching it go around and around. He glances up and tells you to take a seat. He was probably one more minute away from closing.

There's music coming from a far corner. Not a speaker like you suspect, it's a big contraption of some kind with a human seated behind it. "What's that?" you ask.

"A piano?" he says, not sure of the word. "Straight from Veneuron. The human over there said it would attract business. Live music always attracts customers, he said. And like an idiot, I believed him."

"Did you tell him it was depressing?" you ask, and manage to get a grin out of the bartender. The human is playing something slow and somber.

"You go tell him. I've already paid him through the week," the bartender says. You order something stout and he's generous with the pour. You wander over to the piano. The human flashes his teeth.

"Got a request?" he asks. Now that you're on the other side, you can see a row of black and white buttons. It looks simply convoluted. He presses them in different orders, some at the same time. The machine hums with different sounds as he does so.

"Maybe something happy?" you ask.

"I really only know the sad ones," he responds. smirking. He taps out a simple melody. "Maybe this one. We sing it on people's birthdays."

"No wonder you humans are so sad all the time," you say. You regret it. Humans have plenty to be sad about. But he's gracious, giving a kind smile.

“How about your favorite song?” you ask.

“That I can do,” he says. You sit at a table nearby, watching his fingers fly over the keys. The sounds are layering on top of one another, little peaks and valleys of tune. Before you know it, the song, and your drink, are finished. He says something, some human gibberish that sounds like a name. Maybe what the song is called? “What did you think?” he asks.

“It was beautiful,” you say, meaning it. The bartender comes over with a bottle and two more glasses, joining you at the table. The human takes his drink down in one big gulp, slamming the glass down onto his contraption. The bartender pours you another. Even though the human said he only knew sad songs, you see that’s not the truth. He’s playing something lively, something that makes your slightly inebriated feet start tapping.

Pretty soon, the bartender has to get up to serve a couple of pilots who have come in to sit at the bar. Some more customers start to trickle in. The bartender forgot the bottle. He’s too busy to notice you pouring yourself another, then another.

The human is smiling widely now. You get up and toss a Hegemony coin into the empty glass on his piano. It’s joined by currency from a handful of worlds as customers are coming up to talk to him. You notice he can play and carry a conversation at the same time.

He sees you watching him and closes one eye. The drinks have started to interfere with your memory of human customs. They have a word for it. You decide to do it back, whatever it’s called. Suddenly, you have another request in mind. Something you never thought you’d ask of a human.