Superego

by Frank J. Fleming

  But I didn’t want her to die. Since I knew I couldn’t be with her, whether she lived or died seemed logically irrelevant. Still, while I knew I had no hope of normality, Diane could live a normal life. And the thought of her happy was desirable to me for inexplicable reasons.

  And thus I knew what I had to do.

  I started laughing hysterically. I just lost it. The single tear from the heart was concealed by many more from laughter.

  “What is it?” Diane tried to hide her hurt, but she failed. I usually didn’t find pleasure in cruelty, but I usually didn’t care either. This was an odd thing for me, though. It was as if by sensing her pain, I could feel it, too. I knew it was all in my head, but it was powerful.

  I stopped laughing. “Sorry…it’s just that I saw how much you meant it, and…” I chuckled some more. “I guess it’s somewhat of an in-joke you’re not privy to.”

  “This is funny?” She was still too hurt to be angry.

  When something is no longer of use to you but can only get in the way, the logical thing is to kill it. “Jokes just compel you to share them—humor is a very social thing—so let me try and explain this one to you. I guess I can start by explaining me. When I was nine years old, my father shot and killed my mother in front of me.

  She just stared at me, a little pity creeping into her face. “Oh…Rico…”

  I chuckled. “Don’t feel sympathy for me. If ever there was a nine-year-old boy who deserved to have his mother shot in front of him, it was me. But anyway, you’re stepping on the punchline. Do you know what my reaction was to seeing my mother shot and killed? “I turned to my father and asked him, ‘Who is going to make dinner tonight?’”

  Again, she said nothing and looked quite confused.

  “Oh, come on! That’s at least a little bit funny. You know the silly things kids say. I just saw her as someone who did household chores and could easily be replaced with a maid. I was only nine, so I hadn’t quite learned I was supposed to pretend to have some sort of affinity for my mother so I didn’t look freakish.” I walked around the room, keeping a little distance from Diane. “You might ask why I didn’t just naturally love my mother. It’s because I lack that part of the brain that people associate with having humanity. I have no innate sense of right or wrong—everything is just a neutral action to me.

  “Another childhood mistake was when I snapped the neck of the neighbors’ puppy. It bit me, and I didn’t want to get bitten again, so the logical thing seemed to be to kill it. I was so confused by the horrified expressions of the neighbors when what I did seemed so simple and logical. Of course, I didn’t get the reason they’d keep the odd little creature around in the first place or what they meant by calling it ‘cute.’”

  Diane finally spoke. “You were born this way?”

  “Not just that—I was designed this way. I’m not some child of God. I am a flawed creation of man. Nystrom scientists designed my DNA before I was born and used targeted surgeries to make me a highly intelligent, dispassionate warrior to use for their purposes. I was conceived as a killer, then raised by one of Nystrom’s people and trained to be a hitman—which I’ve done quite prolifically.”

  She stared at me and then said, “I’m so sorry.”

  She pitied; it was greatly misplaced. “For what? I got to see the worlds from a different perspective from everyone else—unburdened by the irrational impulses people’s own brains force on them. It’s not like I feel bad about anything that’s happened to me. I’m not even really sure what that means.”

  “But all you’ve done here…”

  “Was just me pretending to be what I thought people would expect to see from a hero. It was all for the job. But then I found out Nystrom was planning for this to be my last job for them—I’m too scary for even them to keep around—so I wasn’t sure what to do, and now here I am following the whims of some emotionally loopy woman.” I smiled—the one that usually made people shudder. “Anyway, that’s where the heart of the humor is. You said you love me—and you meant it—but all you are in love with is just a hollow act. You’re in love with someone who doesn’t even exist.”

  She watched me silently for a while. I had delivered a lot of surprise blows quite quickly, and she didn’t seem to know how to process it all. “Let me help you,” she finally offered.

  I laughed. “You? The mass-murderer trying to bury her guilt under some religion? I guess I should just feel lucky I’ve never known guilt and thus it’s never motivated me to such high levels of idiocy. I’m bored of you now, Diane. I’m fed up with your silly little psychological drama. Here’s a little tip for you: You’re not special. There is no god looking out for you. You’re just an emotional fool reading too much into her random circumstances.”

  She kept a firm gaze on me, but I could see she was breaking. “You can rage against me all you want, but you can’t convince me away from what I know.”

  “Oh, I’ve spent enough time around you to know that deep down you don’t even really believe your own nonsense.” I then swung a quick punch, hitting her hard on the side of the head and almost knocking her down. She looked at me, now clutching blood on her cheek. I smirked. “Going to turn the other cheek?”

  I could see by her clenching fists that she was ready to fight back, but she soon relaxed her hands. She then stood tall and faced me and stated slowly and steadily, “I love you, Rico.”

  This was not going exactly as I hoped. It was time to end it. “I can’t believe all the time I’ve wasted listening to your prattle and subjecting myself to your idiotic, annoying friends—though at least with Hana and her family, that had a happy ending.” I kicked her in the stomach and went to grab her while she was stunned. She tried to get a hand up, but I grasped her hair and then smashed her head into the wall. I then got behind her and put my arm around her neck and squeezed. “Now that I had my way with you,” I said into her ear as she struggled against me, “you have nothing left to offer me.”

  I couldn’t see her face as I kept the pressure on her neck, and I didn’t really want to see the results of my effort. Eventually I knew by her limp form that she was unconscious, and I eased her to the floor and left her sprawled there to at least give the impression that I’d just tossed her to the ground when I was done with her. That coldly rational part of me said I should pick up a gun and end the charade for good, but that was exactly the part of me I was trying to protect her from. And that’s what a sick and twisted person I am:The best way I could express my love was by hurting her so much she’d never want to be near me again. I loved her and she had loved me, but it wasn’t enough. The only way she could possibly be happy would be for me to kill that love. Only her hatred of me would keep her safe. My path was doomed—it had been since my creation—but she still had the possibility of safety and happiness. The syndicates would still be after her, but I’d soon give them much bigger things to worry about.

  I turned to leave but couldn’t help taking one last look at her. I felt I had destroyed something of great value—of value I couldn’t even comprehend. Certainly something I would never see again.

  But what did it matter? What was one more person in the universe who hated me?

  CHAPTER 36

  It helps to know one’s purpose in life. Mine is death. That’s all I know I am good for. Killing. Spreading misery. If you believe in evil, then that’s what I am: an evil. It’s all I’m capable of being.

  But there were still worse people out there. That’s who I was going after.

  I set the Gray Beetle to fly in a wide circle while I planned. I would be executing a modified version of the plan I’d been working on with Diane. We’d been putting together my magnum opus of death and destruction—it was too good to just let go. So I had a what. It just bothered me that I didn’t quite understand why I was doing it. I was partly doing it because it had originally been Diane’s idea. She may have changed her mind, but deep down she wanted to see all this evil crushed in righteous fury. Secondly, it
would keep the syndicates occupied while Diane came to her senses and left the planet and everything on it for good. The final reason I was intent on this action was because I had nothing else to do. As I said, my purpose in life was to kill. And the syndicates were people in need of a killing. It just fit.

  “I have done some analysis,” Dip told me, “and this appears to be a suicide mission.”

  That caught me by surprise. “Your analysis can determine such a thing?”

  “The odds of success seem low.”

  “You can never be certain about such things.” He did have a point, though. Was he right that I was trying to get myself killed? I didn’t think I wanted to die. I seemed more neutral on that issue. I didn’t care if I died. Eternal oblivion didn’t seem that far removed from my current state. “I need your help with something.”

  “Okay, but first I should inform you that your assaulting Melanie Fincher, who prefers to be known as Diane, was possibly illegal, though it may be looked at as self defense considering the fact that she is a wanted murderer on this planet. You should contact the police to get an official decision on that.”

  “Not going to do that, but I need you to get me in touch with Gredler again.”

  “Will do.”

  Gredler soon answered. “Hello?”

  “I just wanted to update you. I’m about to enter a risky situation to get more information. If you don’t hear from me again soon…well, good luck to you.”

  “If you help me here, I will follow through on my end of the bargain.”

  “Good. I thought of something, though. What type of guns does your personal security team use?”

  “I…don’t know.”

  “Have them get Arco X5 blasters. In some daring public assassinations Nystrom carried out in the past, the assassins used personal energy shields that block a great deal of lighter gun fire. You need at least something of the Arco X5 level to contend. It might sound like overkill, but if Nystrom does try to assassinate you, it could save your life.”

  “Okay. Noted.”

  “Listen to me. I know. Anyway, I’m going dark for a while. Hopefully you’ll hear from me soon.” I ended the call. That was my final bit of preparation. I thought briefly about the very real possibility that I was going to die. By my own calculations, the odds were against me. In all likelihood, I would be killed, and the universe would move on—perhaps better for it. Did that mean anything to me? Did I care? I thought of Diane waking up, remembering what I did, and thinking dark thoughts of me as many have done before. Then hopefully she’d see my spectacular death in the news and move on, too.

  Maybe I did want to die—to finally have an ending. I’d spent my whole life going nowhere in particular, but I still would have a conclusion. I hoped it would be a spectacular one, but I suspected it wouldn’t be.

  I stared up at the stars as if looking for God. For a moment I saw the beauty of the sky, but then my brain kicked in and I remembered that the pricks of light in the sky were only distant fission infernos of no particular interest to me. The universe was large and purposeless. There was no meaning. Only finality.

  I thought of my love for Diane. It—love—hinted of greater things in the universe. But it was just a lie. A sweet lie my brain had conjured up to get me to keep living despite the utter pointlessness of it.

  I was done thinking. It was time to lose myself in something else.

  “Dip, I need you to try to get me in contact with Morrigan now.”

  “Will do.”

  Eventually I heard an unsure voice on the line. “Hello?”

  “Hey, Morrigan. It’s Rico. We’ve had a bit of a bumpy relationship, haven’t we?”

  “Like when you shot Vance in the face? I liked Vance. I liked when she had a face. You shot a lot of people I liked—and others I didn’t like but was responsible for—and now I have to answer the executives, ‘Why are these people dead?’ And somehow you only managed to stun Donner. I almost think you didn’t kill her just to further annoy me—”

  I heard some talking in the background, followed by, “Shut up, Donner! Just shut up!” Then Morrigan continued in a more subdued tone. “But I could just go on and on about me and my problems. So how are you and your girlfriend?”

  “We had a bit of a falling out. It was sad.”

  “Well, you come here and tell me all about it.”

  “Are you at the bordello?”

  “That I am. You see, I’ve had to lie low since someone told Gredler I’m with Nystrom—oh! That was you, wasn’t it? It must have been hilarious.”

  “Okay, well I’m heading over to see you now.”

  “Great! We’ll have a lovely talk.”

  “There will not be any talking.”

  There was some silence on her end, followed by laughter. “Awesome. Well, I have my dancing shoes on, so you’d better bring it, big boy. Bring the absolute best you have.”

  The end was coming. The thought made me feel empty inside. I was comfortable that way.

  CHAPTER 37

  “Can I help you, sir?”

  The receptionist was a young human female who looked to be of no threat. There was a certain skepticism to her tone, though. Wearing some basic street clothes and a cheap-looking blue jacket, I was perhaps dressed a little too casually for such a fancy building. The lobby was opulent, decked out with sculptures of humans and Corridians, fountains, and a giant crystal- and gold-adorned chandelier dangling high above me. I hadn’t had time to get a new suit since I’d been on the lam, though. “I am here to visit the thirty-first floor.”

  “Oh.” More skepticism. That was supposed to be a very exclusive destination. “What’s your name?”

  “Rico Vargas.”

  She checked her computer screen, then looked at me and back at her screen. “Oh, I have you right here, Mr. Vargas. I’m afraid I don’t have health records for you, though.”

  “Will that be a problem?”

  “Federal law states that you must submit to some basic blood work before you can visit such an establishment. I can actually do it now. There will be a fee, though. Fifty.”

  “Fifty in what currency?”

  “Standard Alliance dollars.”

  “Oh; duh. Of course.” I fished out of my pocket a stick of my credit info and handed it to her. “Will this work?”

  “Let me see.” She scanned it. “Yes. That will work nicely.” She handed it back to me. “I’ll need to prick one of your fingers. Which hand would you prefer this on?”

  Didn’t really matter to me, but I held out my left, as I was slightly right-dominant. She pricked my ring finger with a small pin and then checked her computer screen. “You’re good.”

  “Good to know.”

  “You’ll need to see security now.”

  A security guard approached me—a Corridian male who also didn’t look like much of a threat. He waved a clear, thin wand over me. It beeped at my pockets. “Could you please empty your pockets, sir?”

  I complied and took out a small, folding knife I had with me. “I think this was it. Were you scanning for metal?”

  “Among other things. Anyway, you can’t take that up with you.”

  “Really?” It was just a little knife; that seemed a little extreme.

  “I can hold it for you, Mr. Vargas,” the receptionist offered.

  “Oh. Okay. Thanks.”

  The security guard handed the knife to the receptionist and then waved his wand over me again. “Okay, you’re good now.”

  “Just head down that hallway to the elevators and take the center one to floor thirty-one,” the receptionist instructed me.

  “Could you please let them know I’m on my way up?”

  “Certainly.”

  “Thank you very much.” I gave my friendliest smile. It never hurts to be polite.

  I went down the hallway to the elevators, entered the center elevator, and hit the button for the thirty-first floor. Now Morrigan knew I was on my way and unarmed, and she probably
suspected something was up. And these suspicions were confirmed when the elevator opened with no one inside. Then came the loud crash as the unmanned Gray Beetle smashed through the wall onto the brothel’s floor, crashing around inside before coming to a stop near the elevators, where I assumed Morrigan’s people were waiting with guns drawn. And that’s when the explosives went off inside the Gray Beetle, sending fire, concussive force, and shrapnel in all directions.

  Where was I? I had taken a second elevator to the thirty-second floor, a posh restaurant now filled with many alarmed patrons. I had made sure the Gray Beetle would pitch upward before it stopped, which had punched a minor hole in the restaurant’s floor. The explosion had opened it up further, and while the patrons fled, I made for the smoky crevice and jumped down.

  Smoke fought against emergency lighting. There was very little visibility, but I had an advantage over my enemies: I just had to kill anything that moved, while they most likely wanted to be more careful than that. My first order of business was getting a gun. There was a man trying to stand up near where I’d landed. I slammed his head into the floor and groped around for his gun. When I stood up, someone else stumbled by, and I grabbed a gun from her while elbowing her in the face. I then immediately fired on a couple of silhouettes I saw in the smoke. I had no idea how many combatants I was dealing with or how many were still alive, but all I was going to concentrate on was finding Morrigan. Maybe she’d been killed in the initial blast, but I doubted I would be that lucky.

  I moved through the smoke, shooting anything I thought I saw moving. I spied someone out of the corner of my eye and turned and shot who I thought might be a female figure. I approached for confirmation, but then the smoke cleared enough that I saw a very determined set of eyes bearing down on me. She was quick but not quick enough, and I quickly had a lock right back on those eyes and pulled the trigger.