[ WP ] You sit down at a bar in outer space and you overhear an alien telling his friend why the rest of the cosmos ignored humans for so long .

“ I ’ ll have 250 grams of fleshybits, a block of alpha carbohydrate texture five with seasoning blend seven, and 1 liter of krav fruit nectar with 10 percent ethyl alcohol please. ” I said to the serving robot as I settled down into an appropriately sized booth in a dark corner of the starport bar. I had never been here before but the place looked promising. It had been quite some time since another human had been through here but they did give it a good rating. It didn ’ t stink, the air was quite breathable even without a respirator, and it was quiet and somewhat private. I am not one of those humans that detest the undue attention that one of our kind generates. I ’ ve been away from Sol long enough that it didn ’ t really bother me. 
 
 Still, it was nice when I could have a quiet uninterrupted meal. It didn ’ t happen often. 
 
 I took a bite of my meal. It was pretty damn good. The AI chef must have had humanity in its database or something. I pulled out my tablet and gave the place five stars. This watering hole needed to be on the map. 
 
 As I looked up from my tablet, I saw an eyestalk peeping around the corner of my booth. I suppressed the reflex to smile pleasantly. It was often interpreted as baring one ’ s fangs. I instead made a figure eight motion with my hand, a universal gesture of friendly greeting. A smallish belot stepped into view. 
 
 “ You are a human! ” 
 
 “ Your mastery of the obvious is quite commendable. ” The belot started giggling. Well, it was more sneezing and appearing to have a mild seizure but that ’ s what they did. For some unknown reason the galaxy found humans amazingly funny. Even the slightest bit of sarcasm was hilarious. 
 
 I then invited the little guy to join me. He looked like he was about to pass out. I summoned the serving bot. I had wanted a quiet meal but I was quite possibly the only human this guy has ever or will ever see. There was no need for his encounter to be unpleasant. Besides, I like belot. They are usually pretty decent beings. They have always been good company. I would probably have hired one on if I could manage the additional life support. 
 
 “ Would you like something? My treat. ” The belot looked stunned. 
 
 “ I wouldn ’ t dare impose. ” 
 
 “ Relax, it isn ’ t an imposition. ” It wasn ’ t. Our reputation for being obscenely wealthy wasn ’ t unjustified. I probably had several hundred thousand times the wealth of this little guy. By galactic standards I was loaded. 
 
 “ Seriously, get whatever you want. ” The belot took me at my word and ordered himself quite the feast. I smiled to myself. He was being incredibly bold for one of his kind. I liked him. I suddenly felt like I was being watched. I glanced over and saw a table of belot just staring at us. Well, they were staring more at him than me. I couldn ’ t help but grin. The belot drew back suddenly. 
 
 “ Ohmygosh! I ’ m sorry! I didn ’ t mean…. ” 
 
 “ Oh relax, eyeballs. This... ” I point at my toothy grin. “ This is what we do when we are deeply amused. ” 
 
 “ Oh, that ’ s right. I remember now. ” He sighed with relief and I laugh. A belot sigh sounds like a dozen little farts as air is released through numerous relaxed spicules. 
 
 “ Looks like you made quite the impact on your comrades. ” The belot squinted his eyes in a smile. “ You ’ re pretty brazen for one of you little skittles. ” The belot giggled again. 
 
 “ So, you are dining with a human. What do you want to talk about? ” 
 
 “ Are you a musician? ” They always ask that. They expect every single human to be a musician, or an artist, or comedian, or something. It really doesn ’ t surprise me. That ’ s what we are known for. Before interstellar travel it was sometimes thought that there may be other civilizations out there with superior technology that are watching Earth and just not contacting us because we weren ’ t ready. Well, they were almost right. We were being watched and they weren ’ t contacting us. It wasn ’ t because we weren ’ t ready though. 
 
 It was because we were considered a galactic treasure. They decided they wouldn ’ t dare “ ruin ” us. 
 
 Our music, art, drama, design, history, even our technology was fascinating to the galaxy. Ever since our first radio transmissions reached a remote trade route we overwhelmed a vulnerable galaxy not with our technology or firepower but with our culture. It turns out that most sentient species are a bit dull in the first place. Pair that with most species being contacted much earlier on and thus adopting a near uniform technology and culture and you have the perfect petri dish for humanity to infect. 
 
 And infect it we did. Our culture, art, design, fashion, you name it took the galaxy by storm long before we did. By the time we did independently develop interstellar travel, the galaxy didn ’ t look like Star Wars. It looked like an IKEA catalog. 
 
 “ No, sorry. Not every human can sing or paint. I ’ m just a freighter captain. ” 
 
 “ Ooo! Have you been in many space battles? ” That was a fair question. A terran light freighter loaded with art, music, sculpture, etc. was a lot of money in a small package. Piracy was not unheard of. As a result, our “ freighters ” were more like cutters or destroyers than the usual flying box. My ship was better armed than a lot of military vessels. 
 
 “ A few. ” I don ’ t like to brag. I actually have more kills than most pilots out there. 
 
 We continued to eat and drink for quite some time. As the alcohol ( and formaldehyde ) flowed we chatted about Earth and what it was like there. As more relaxants flowed the conversation turned from the usual interview that I normally get to an actual increasingly drunken bullshit session where we talked about old lovers and stories about space travel and all sorts of bullshit. 
 
 I wound up having to damn near carry Eyeballs to his quarters. I poured him into the appendages of his completely astonished shipmates and staggered back to my hotel room. 
 
 I wonder how he will react when he realizes that I slipped a data stick with a few gigabytes of live music recordings into his pocket. 
 
 

