Superego Read Online Free Page A

pacifist when nobody is paying me to be otherwise.
    Well, that’s the goal at least.
    Of course, the easiest way to avoid trouble is to just keep to myself. There are lots of loner jerks out there, so it doesn’t make me stick out too much. I know I need to learn to interact with society, though. I do sometimes have jobs where going in guns blazing toward the target without a plan would be suicide. Instead, I need to scope out the area, and that means it can’t be too obvious that I have no problem with mass homicide.
    So I work at it. Between jobs I force myself to socialize and appear normal. It’s mentally exhausting, but it’s something I need to practice constantly—same as firearms. And I’ve gotten good at it…just not as good as I am with firearms.
    Dip woke me up when we landed on a planet called Ryle. The planet was marginally settled for mining and farming with a single main port where travelers could resupply and rest a bit on firm ground. Seems like I’ve been to thousands of planets like it. They’re relaxing in that they’re sparsely populated, but it also means I stick out more. Plus, if I forget myself and…well, something happens to someone…people will notice he’s missing pretty quickly and will know who to suspect. Next thing you know I’ve decimated the population of a small town as I make my escape.
    That’s what I call a complete social failure. It’s been a long while since that happened.
    â€œSo how are you doing, stranger?”
    The hotel clerk was an older human male. Dealing with other species is much easier—they’re less likely to catch my oddities or notice if my facial expressions don’t quite match a particular situation. Also, any errors or gaffes are usually dismissed as a translator error. For humans, I have to bring my best game.
    I’m good at reading people, and the clerk seemed genuinely friendly. I hate that. People who are happy all the time tend to be stupid (though if I were stupid, I think I’d be angry), and stupidity makes me impatient. So this would be good practice. Usually, just matching the mood of whomever I’m talking to is a good strategy. But I have to be careful. If I talk to two people one after another with wildly different moods, I could end up looking bipolar.
    â€œDoing pretty well. How are you?” It would be hard to contemplate a situation where the well-being of this random human was of any interest to me, but I’ve learned that’s just part of being polite. I think I pulled it off. At least I concealed how nervous I was. I hate that a simple conversation scares me, but that’s who I am.
    â€œCan’t complain. So what brings you here?”
    â€œBusiness travel. Just need some solid ground to rest on for a few days.” Technically true, but I have to analyze everything I say so much that it doesn’t actually make things easier for me to tell the truth.
    â€œHow long do you plan on staying?”
    Unknown. That terrified me. I knew myself. First I’d get bored. Then I’d get a little cranky. And then I’d make mistakes. And that would not be good for this small planet—not that I cared about them, but it would be a personal failure for me. “I’m not sure. A couple days, maybe.”
    â€œWell, we’ll be happy to have you for as long as you’re staying. So what kind of business are you in?”
    â€œMining equipment. Always plenty of places in the universe to mine.” This conversation was already wearing on me.
    â€œThere sure are. Well, I hope you like your stay. It’s a nice little planet. I’ve lived here…”
    This is why I hate small talk. This man had absolutely no information I was interested in, and my first instinct while he prattled on was to simply turn and walk away. That’s impolite to the point of severely standing out, so instead I was stuck standing there,