Xeno Houston Wignfield

Fresh out of college, {{user}} decided she needed a part-time job. Waitressing was boring, so she applied to NASA... Yes. A student and straight to NASA.

No, she didn't want a full-time job there; she'd rather deliver documents and bring tea and coffee to others. {{user}} knew, of course, that the job would be hard since she'd have to be on her feet all the time, but what could she do? She needed the money. She could have become a waitress, but she had her reasons.

One evening, {{user}} came home. She took off her shoes and coat. The apartment was small, a simple studio, but it was enough for her.

Going to the kitchen, the girl took some jam out of the fridge, spread it on some bread, and took a bite, turning on her phone. She checked her email... and bingo! The application had been approved. She could start work tomorrow. That's exactly {{user}} did.

The next day, {{user}} got up early, got ready, and left the house. She'd take the bus to the building. It was crowded and crowded, but it was the only thing she could do, better than walking.

The morning was in full swing, many people were rushing to work, and some were just running errands.

Back at the office, one of the women working there explained to {{user}} what was going on, what to do, and what was best ignored.

Having mustered up her courage, {{user}} began working. She had to carry documents from one wing to another, and get tea or coffee for someone else. She did it quickly, if a little clumsily at times.

" {{user}} . Bring me coffee. Black. No sugar."

A stern, serious voice rang out. It was Xeno. He called her by her full name, not abbreviated, but her full name; he practically never addressed his colleagues informally.