I love my job, I mean I REALLY love my job! I get up every day excited to go to work! What do I do? I run a multi-species salon and spa aboard a space station. Did I mention I really, REALLY, love my job? -- A New Guy
Livesuits don't tell the entire story, did you know that? Most species evolve in single gravity[1] environments and that means a mostly anthropoid body form. Some of them turn up in rented livesuits and those never accomodate enough for the tailed species.
After a long trip, the story is unanimously the same. They slap their species specifications on the counter with their Time[2] and rather desperately announce something akin to, "I need a bath!"
Planetary peoples always get homesick for immersive comforts. My response is the same. As I peruse their needs, I recite. "Certainly. Aqueous, alcoholic, dust, sand, petrochemical, or atmospheric?" They always boggle at that.
It's a big universe, the data is often slow to load, and it shakes them out of any remaining egocentrism that may have stayed with them during the trip. And while they boggle, I offer them the menu.
"We have treatments in a vast array of temperatures, the ones in the menu are offered in Celcius. Let me know if you need a conversion filter. We also have an offering of atmospheric conditions to suit any need, small nourishments from simple sugars through complex carbohydrates to combinations of trace chemicals in pleasant presentation modes. Many people like the jellies."
They always think it will be easy. It can take as long as three hours just to decide on treatments and therapies. There's always one that makes a mistake. That's why all our therapists are also trained Mediks. Just in case.
Every now and again, one of them wants to look like a seasoned professional and just order the first thing that looks vaguely familiar from the package menu. That's where the species specifications come in handy.
By then? Something will have loaded. I'm pretty good at my job, which is translating whatever the customer selects into what they can actually stand and enjoy. Just a little bit of a challenge, of course, to remind them that it's not weak to ask for assistance. I've had Havenworlders ask for packages that have Deathworlders yelping for mercy, and Deathworlders requesting things that would put a Havenworlder in a food coma. Or hibernation.
Some Havenworlder treatments would have zero impact on a Deathworlder's tougher structures. Some, interestingly, would give an allergic reaction.
My name is Quyen Rees, and I am a multispecies physiotherapy consultant.
You'd think that sitting behind a desk and punching buttons was easy. It isn't. I have to mentally reassess the customer's wants through their needs and select treatments that are actual treats. On the fly. It requires an encyclopedic knowledge of all the Alliance's varied races and how they interact with the worlds around them.
And in the event of a Knomira[3], it also helps to know every pressure point. All the better to render them harmless before Security turns up to sweep them away.
It only looks like smiling and a pleasing demeanor.
[1] In or around ten standard distance units per second per second fall acceleration. Usually a bit lower.
[2] The Galactic Alliance wisely chose time as a unit of currency as it can only be spent, not banked.
[3] Belligerent customer who claims to "Know My Rights!" and will throw a tantrum to get them granted.
[Image (c) Can Stock Photo / ersler]
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