Superego (24 page)

“Vanity of vanities, all is vanity
.

What profit has a man from all his labor

In which he toils under the sun?”

“What are you doing now?” Dip asked.

“I'm reading in the Bible about the pointlessness of life.”

“Do you find that to be comforting?”

“I find it to be true, and the truth usually isn't comforting.”

I was too on edge to just relax in my hotel room, so I headed out to no particular destination and ended up at the park I had visited with Diane two days earlier. Diane had caused me quite a bit of uncertainty, and I'd thought that would have ended now that she was out of the picture. But no such luck. Now I was constantly thinking of how worthless this job was becoming to me. I was preparing for a big hit—which was usually the highlight of my life—but that could barely even keep my attention now. And if my job no longer interested me, then exactly what was I living for?

And the revelation about Diane—it had affected me somehow. I couldn't quite put my finger on it, but it wasn't something I could shake off as one of life's odd little surprises. As I sat in the park, I looked at all the sentients walking by. Each had his own life story—his own hopes and dreams—and I cared about all of that equally little. But now there was one person in the universe I did seem to care about for some odd reason, and that was slowly making me realize everything had changed now. Much of what I'd thought about myself was no longer true. And what did that mean for me?

And I set my heart to know wisdom and to know madness and folly. I perceived that this also is grasping for the wind
.

For in much wisdom is much grief
,

And he who increases knowledge increases sorrow
.

That was a truth I'd already grasped and was the crux of my problem. People could only live in the illusion of happy lives because they never bothered to really think things out. I'd never had that luxury—I've always had to analyze everything in order to survive. And when you analyze life enough, you can't help but conclude that it's all pointless. You live, have your struggles, and then die and become nothing. Far enough into the future, the whole universe dies as well, and then there will be no evidence that any of us ever existed. I had come to terms with this, though. I'd found something I liked to do and focused on that. You have to focus on the now, because if you think too far into the future you realize it's all for naught. But my work was beginning to lack appeal. There was little excitement left in the game, and now, for some reason, it seemed as empty as everything else. So what now?

I assumed if I kept reading the passage, it would conclude that things weren't pointless if you were nice to people or something like that, but I didn't really care to hear that now. I just wanted to find another distraction—something to entertain me and just let my brain shut down for a little while.

The sun was setting, and in the distance I could see some lights just beyond the park. The carnival Diane had mentioned to me before. Well, I had no other ideas.

“Where are you going now?” Dip asked.

“Does it matter? Don't you have other things to do besides keep tabs on me?”

“Well, since you were speaking of the pointlessness of life, my further attempts to come up with an extraction plan from the city have been rather unfruitful. Either you need to get me the clearance codes for the city, or I'll have to plan to rendezvous with you after Morrigan gets you off planet.”

“I'll bring up the clearance codes with Morrigan next time I see her, then.” I wasn't hopeful she'd give them to me, though. She obviously liked to keep tight control over things. I looked around, wondering if she still had people following me. I hoped the carnival would be crowded, since that would make it easy to get lost in there.

It was filled with families of various species, all checking out the rides and booths about wonders from other worlds and food from exotic places. There were also soft pretzels, which I liked. I never have a problem with crowds of people in a situation like this, because they leave you alone. In fact, it makes it easy to disappear among them. To really not stand out—to not be noticed—you need to be surrounded by lots of people. Just another face in the crowd.

I could see a number of rides, including the iconic Ferris wheel made popular by human amusement parks (though many other species had similar rides). Rides held no interest for me, though; I found it hard to get my adrenaline to misfire because of faked danger. And if all I wanted was a rush from chemicals in my brain, I could just take narcotics.

I had a sudden awful thought that there might be clowns at the carnival. I shook the notion from my head as I had more serious things to worry about—though none so creepy.

There were a number of attractions set up to show off the cultures of different planets. I never found cultures that interesting (especially modern cultures), so I continued walking by all the booths until I came to a new section with games of skill. That was more promising. I figured I could find some small challenge that would distract me a little—though I really didn't want to get stuck toting around one of those large stuffed animals.

I had been unnoticed in the crowd so far, but I saw a woman glance my way. She had dyed green hair, numerous piercings, and tight clothing that emphasized her curves and her cleavage. I wasn't sure what to make of her yet—and anyway, she wasn't my type. Never got the point of advertising so loudly your parents' failure to teach you the value of societal norms. I kept moving and soon reached a tent with a number of old games inside. One stood out to me, and I walked over to it, picked up a mallet, and started the game. Soon, a brown, cartoonish face popped up out of a hole, and I hit it with the mallet. It was oddly satisfying. More came at increasing frequency until I was overwhelmed and unable to strike them all. And then it stopped, and my score flashed on a display. That seemed to be all there was to the game, and I had nothing left to do but play again and try to beat the score. So I did.

“I noticed your heart rate has increased, Rico. Are you okay?”

Reflex was key here, and the distraction of Dip's voice wasn't helping. “Just trying to have fun, Dip.”

“Doing what, if I may inquire?”

I righteously smacked another one of the faces. “Whacking moles. It's an Earth game.”

“And why would you want to whack moles?”

“I'm not sure the game comes with a back story. I believe moles harm crops, so perhaps I am a farmer and have to protect my crops…but the only weapon I have is a mallet. Anyway, it's a kid's game.”

“Sounds violent for children.”

“Children love pointless violence. Children are still animals who haven't quite yet learned they're supposed to be something else.” I whacked a few more moles. I think I was having fun—I guess I wasn't sure what that was like.

The game ended, but my score was higher this time. In fact, it was recorded as the high score for the system. I still thought I could do better, so I started another game.

“Is this to be your activity until it is time for your job?”

“What's it matter, Dip?”

“I'm just making conversation. Your behavior has been different from normal lately. When a human's behavior shifts dramatically, it usually means something.”

“I just want to whack moles, Dip.” The point of the “fun” activity was to forget about everything else for a little while, and Dip was ruining that. Plus, he was making me miss moles.

The game ended, and I had improved my score, even with the distraction. Still, I knew I could do better. “Going to need you to be quiet for a little bit, Dip. I need full concentration for this.” I took a deep breath, gripped the mallet tightly, and prepared to start another game.

“Mister, I'd like to play.”

It was a small human child. Since I was much bigger and armed with a mallet, I could easily have threatened him, but threatening children is usually a no-no. “Small child, I am near mastery of this game. You will need to wait.”

“You already played three times. It's my turn. You need to share.”

The small child apparently did not fear death. I thought parents were supposed to teach that sort of thing to their children. They definitely didn't want strangers like me doing that for them.

“Why don't you let the kid play, Rico?”

I looked up and saw the green-haired woman standing near the entrance to the tent, her expression quite serious. I was suddenly very aware that the only weapon I had was the phony mallet—which I handed to the child as I cautiously approached the woman. “And you are…” Before I finished saying it, I got a good look at her face and the alert blue eyes looking back at me. “Diane?”

CHAPTER 27

“Can you give me a minute to explain myself?”

The green hair and piercings seemed very out of character for her—but apparently I didn't really know her too well in the first place. I found it strange that I would be surprised by someone being deceptive about herself.

I took a quick look around the tent and only saw kids. Hopefully Morrigan was leaving me alone. “Got somewhere we can talk?”

Diane motioned for me to follow her. She led me through a rear exit, out of the way of foot traffic, and to a large nearby shed with a busted lock. The shed was packed with lawn equipment and other maintenance tools. A small light inside showed just enough room with the door closed for two people to stand closely together. Apparently, Diane had already scoped out the area for an isolated place to talk to me—and considering how quickly she'd changed her appearance, I could see she was someone of decisive action. It was hard not to admire her…despite how pathetic a situation she now found herself in.

She wasn't so decisive, though, on how to start this conversation. She was watching me carefully, probably trying to gauge my immediate opinion of her. I decided to speak first. “Look, I'm sorry I called you ‘boring,' but I think you're overcompensating.”

She smiled weakly. Then she looked like she was going to tear up but quickly caught herself. “I've tried to learn not to feel sorry for myself. I've been in some bad situations, but most of those were due to my own decisions.” She now gazed firmly at me. “Anyway, to get to it, I'm not an assassin sent to kill Gredler.”

Now I had to decide what my intentions were here. A fugitive was rather useless to me, but I just went ahead and stayed in character. “I never thought you were…but I have to admit, I am rather confused.”

“I'm sorry, Rico. I've deceived a lot of people for a long time now—I even deceived myself into thinking I could just toss out the person I had been and start over like nothing had happened. It's true—I worked for the Nystrom syndicate. I…” She took a deep breath. “I did a lot of bad things, which we can talk about later. If this were just about me, I'd leave you out of it. But there really are some big things going on, and the assassination of Gredler is just the beginning. I mentioned I worked on some projects in my spare time that were work-related? Well, what I've been doing is mapping out all the syndicate connections within the Alliance, and there are so many. I know it may sound paranoid, but I have been on the inside and seen it myself. Every level of government is infiltrated with people working for one of the syndicates, and this whole conference is just one big power play: Nystrom versus all the others.”

I guess I was supposed to feign surprise or disbelief at this revelation, but I just went with stoic. “And why come to me with this?”

“I can't go back to the people I know on the police force. I'm still not completely sure who has direct ties to the syndicates, and…I've never been good at making friends there. And I don't want to put my friends in harm's way—plus I don't know how they'd react, knowing I've been lying to them all these years. You're really all I have right now, though it would be hard to blame you if you wanted nothing to do with me either.”

“You want me to help you escape?”

“No. I'm done just worrying about myself. I want to stop these people.”

I've never felt compassion, but I understand the concept—it's a desire to reduce the pain of others. In this situation, it seemed the compassionate thing would be to tell her I'd help, embrace her in her time of weakness, and quickly snap her neck before she knew what was going on. She was hunted by the police and all the syndicates, plotting against forces way more powerful than her, her friends were now finding out the truth about her, and admittedly her only hope was…well, me. Her future looked extremely bleak, and if I killed her now, it would spare her a lot of pain and suffering…not the least of which was finding out the truth about the man she now confided in.

But, as I said, I've never felt compassion. I am often curious, though. “I spoke to Hana today.”

“Oh.” She looked as if she were bracing herself for a blow.

“She wanted me to know how ridiculous these charges are against you. Then she told me the story of when she first met you. Said that she thought you died in a transport accident, but I'm guessing the real Diane Thompson did die in that, didn't she?”

She wouldn't look me in the eye. “Yes. I finally grew a conscience in my life in the syndicate and wanted to start over. I saw an opportunity since Diane looked like me and didn't have any friends or family to figure out she had been replaced. That she was coming to Nar Valdum to be a police officer wasn't perfect, but I knew I could work with it. And then I just sort of…became her.”

“Should I still call you Diane?”

“I…I don't want to be Melanie again.” She continued to look away from me, her face registering a mixture of sadness and disgust. Shame. Another emotion I only know in theory. “This was a mistake. I shouldn't have tried to pull you into this. It's just silly to think you can trust me now, and…”