Superego (38 page)

I was trying to process this revelation. I had assumed that I had been designed from the beginning to be good at killing—that while I wasn't quite the soldier intended by the program that made me, my identity and purpose were still to be an efficient killer. Instead, killing was just something Anthony had chosen for me when my initial purpose hadn't worked out. He could have chosen something else for me, and perhaps I would have devoted myself to it just as much. I thought a killer was all I was, but it was simply all that Anthony had imagined I could be.

“The executives never really trusted you—they remember too well the animals that the others like you turned out to be. So I don't think they ever fully trusted my judgment for keeping you around. Maybe they're right, maybe it wasn't good judgment. It's just…you're my son. I was proud of what you were, and I didn't want to just discard you. But Nystrom has big plans. And I have my own big plans. It was time for me to let you go to show them my devotion to the cause.”

I figured it was something like that. I wasn't too surprised that, in the end, I just wasn't more important than money and power to my “father.”

“But you warned me,” I said.

“Nystrom has their plans, but I have…well…bigger ones. I acted as though I wanted you to go out fighting like you deserve, but I had something else in mind for you. You see, Nystrom thinks they're big enough now that they don't need to hide in the shadows. They can rule outright. That might be true, but I see a problem. You see, we're criminals. People know that, and they'll never really accept us. We'll always have to use force to keep people in line. Like many other syndicates, we started as smugglers. Petty criminals. But as the governments expanded over too large a space and became weak and ineffectual, we found we were the only ones with the power and will to actually control things. Once you're powerful enough, I guess you're no longer really a criminal. You are the law. But can a bunch of thugs and murderers really be accepted as leaders?”

He smiled. This was his big idea he was telling me. This was his baby. His real child. “What we can be, though, are the villains who rouse people to action. Do you know why we're killing all those people on Zaldia?”

“Minerals?” It was my only guess.

“No. No one knows why we're there…except me. I organized it for one purpose only. So we can ruthlessly kill innocent people and let all of civilization see it. You ever heard of the Nazis, Rico? A dictatorship that murdered millions of people back when humans were stuck on their home planet. They were so awful that everyone felt righteous in crushing them—that it was imperative to do anything to stop them. That's what I'm trying to make Nystrom—a powerful, evil organization that everyone wants to righteously rise up against and destroy. And destroy the other syndicates while they're at it. People will feel the need to do anything necessary to stop us and the others, and finally we'll have the effective nation the future needs. So yes. Nystrom needs to come out of the shadows. And then it needs to be destroyed. Under my guidance.”

I started to understand. “You want the face of Nystrom and the other syndicates destroyed, and then you want to use the people's anti-syndicate fervor to build your own new government.”

“Someone has to have the vision to guide things as they need to be.”

I laughed. “Like when you made me.”

“Mistakes will be made, son, but the universe is finally ready to move into the future. And your help was invaluable. The other leaders of Nystrom were hesitant to act on my idea. But now, with your spectacle exposing all the syndicates, people will rise up and demand an entirely new government. And I'll be there…in the background, guiding things, as people wage war on the corruption in their government and the criminals behind it.”

And that's what stung the most. I was trying to rebel. For a while, I was even trying to be righteous. But all I did was further Anthony's plans. He'd known exactly how I'd retaliate when I found out Nystrom had finally turned against me. Even when I thought I was doing something new and becoming someone different, all I was doing was acting my type and playing into his hands.

In Anthony's flame-lit face, I could see a twinge of remorse. It hurt him to kill me, but he'd decided other things were more important. That's just how people are. “You never did ask why I killed your mother,” he said.

“I figured if I needed to know, you'd tell me.”

“But you weren't curious?”

“People kill other people all the time.”

He chuckled. “That's what I always liked about you. You were always simple, logical. You didn't get hung up on silly human conventions. I had such high hopes for you. I even had hopes for you after this job. I knew you'd lash out, and then I thought that with Nystrom in flux I'd be able to bring you back into the fold. But I can't now. Because you're broken. I thought my son could survive anything, but this broke you. Did I hear you shouting at God a few minutes ago? What was that about?”

A good question. “I'm just…I'm lost, I guess.”

“It's because of that woman. Diane, or whatever her real name is. Isn't it?” He looked angry. “Somehow she got in your head and you couldn't get her out. The things I would like to do to her…”

“Please. Leave her alone.” The words came out almost automatically.

He stared at me with a perplexed look on his face. “As you have probably realized, you're going to die very soon. What's it matter to you?”

“I…don't know. Just please let her live. If you can do me one favor, get her to safety.”

He slowly stood up. I could no longer see his face. “You were at times a difficult son to love. I was never much for affection, but I sometimes wondered whether you thought of me as anything more than someone who gave you orders.”

“Not really. Maybe I had more respect for you than I had for other people. You seemed smart.”

He chuckled softly. “
That
you respected.”

“I did.”

“But not now?”

I hadn't meant to phrase it in past tense, but it was true. “No. You have all these big plans, but in the end you're just another rat clawing at others for its share of garbage. Even if your plans work out and you have all the power you can imagine, you're still going to be no more than a silly, miserable fool.”

“And this is a new opinion?”

No, not really. I had always seen the pursuit of power as pointless, but something was different now. I wanted so badly to leap up and grab Anthony and beat him until there was nothing recognizable left…even though logically I knew how pointless that would be, and that it would bring me no happiness. Because it wasn't even really him I was angry with. “I just now realized how broken I am.”

“We did make mistakes creating you, but—”

“Not that.” I thought about my long, empty life. “You were a bad father, though. Perhaps I could have been something—done something better with my life with proper guidance. But you were too myopic to help me there—just focused on ‘power,' as if that was a goal worth anything.”

“I made you the best you could be in your circumstances!” he said angrily.

I took a deep breath, though it hurt some. “This is pointless. If I'm to die now, let me die in peace. You go rule the universe or whatever nonsense it is you're focused on.”

Anthony stood still. “Do you hate me, son?”

“I don't think enough of you to hate you. I think it once mattered to me that I thought you cared for me, but I don't know why. Now I just want…I sort of wish I never knew you. Then maybe I could have been someone else. Someone…” I wasn't sure where I was going with that, but it soon became clear to me. I wanted to be someone Diane could love and who could properly love her back. And be content with that. But I wasn't going to share that with Anthony.

“I'm sorry, son,” Anthony said. “This wasn't easy for me, but I can see from your rambling that it was probably the right choice. You're no longer your clear-cut, rational self, and that makes you dangerous. But it doesn't matter; I already killed you with the first shot. I don't hesitate on these sorts of things—I pick an action, and I follow through. That's how I survive. You'll be dead in a few more minutes. Goodbye.” He turned and walked off.

So now I was alone, paralyzed, dying, and staring up at the rain that fell on my face. And I was angry for some reason…but not with Anthony. I remembered Diane's talk of forgiveness, but forgiving my “father” was simple enough. He was just a fool—like every other sentient out there. But here was so much thoughtlessness in the universe that it seemed silly to obsess over a single instance of it.

But there was one person I couldn't forgive: myself. All this time, I'd known better than to be on the path I was on, but I'd pretended not to. I'd lied to myself constantly so I could keep going and never have to confront what I was. I'd said my problem with killing was simply aesthetics. I'd told myself that I was best alone and had nothing to gain from being around other people. And when I'd slaughtered the people at the conference, I'd told myself I was being righteous, when I was just indulging myself. My logic told me I had nothing to apologize for, but why did I always turn to it to justify myself? What was I fighting against? So what if I couldn't naturally feel that an action was right or wrong? I could still see the horrors of what I did. I could see the effect I had on people. And I chose to close myself to it. I chose it.

Even now, my logical side told me I was agonizing over nothing. The world was pointless, and it didn't matter what I did, because the end was always the same. But I didn't care what that part of me had to say anymore. Look what it had gotten me: a miserable, meaningless death. Of course, it had never promised me any better than that. So why had I devoted myself to it? Why was I such a fool? Why didn't I even try to find something more in the universe? Was it all because I was scared to confront what I was? What I'd made of myself?

Of course, the realization didn't matter now. It was too late; this was my end. And there certainly was no father coming to embrace the prodigal son who decided to change his ways. He was the one who shot me.

A flash of lightning showed the silhouettes of trees far above me, the only witnesses to my imminent death. And the rain pelting my face was the only feeling I had left. I was going to die quite inanely, unmourned, and alone, my only comfort being that I didn't deserve any better. What was there in this life for me to hold on to, anyway? Everything in my life was so empty now. Except one thing. That brief feeling I'd had when Diane told me she loved me—when I saw that she meant it. I couldn't understand what it was, but I wanted to hold on to it.

Diane. The police had her, and she was an easy target for Nystrom. For Anthony. I had what I deserved, but I didn't want her to suffer anymore. It just didn't seem right.

I looked up as the lightning flashed again. “You have to protect her!” I called out. Did I believe in God now? I didn't feel like thinking it through—I just wanted Diane safe and had no other options left. “You can't let them hurt her anymore,” I pleaded, my voice now more subdued. “Please.”

Soon the rain lessened. I thought maybe it was a sign that He heard me. At least I simply chose to see it that way, as it provided some comfort. So I closed my eyes and waited for the end.

But I was so scared.

You're just slipping into oblivion
, I told myself.
There's nothing to fear.
It was no use, though. I felt more alone than I ever had in my whole life. It was becoming an all-engulfing despair, a misery that felt never-ending. Was this the hell Diane had mentioned? Was that where I was going?

Frightened, I opened my eyes. I saw her face one last time. Heard her call my name. She looked scared. It pained me to see it, especially knowing that it was my fault. “I'm so sorry,” I called out to her. “I'm sorry for what I did to you. Don't be sad, please.”

And then she slapped me. “Rico!” she yelled again, this time louder.

I looked again and saw not just fear but also determination. “You're real?”

“Yes, Rico.” I could feel her hand touch my face.

“How'd you find me?”

“I started tracking Dip's signal when he connected to the computer in my headquarters. And then we saw the explosion. What happened?”

I smiled. She was okay—she'd somehow gotten away from the police. “You need to get out of here. Others may come.”

“We'll leave with you. Now what happened to you?”

“Shot. Also poisoned, I think. Can't move.” My vision was fading still. I did my best to stay focused on her face.

“Verg, I'm going to need you to come help me move him. Can you land over here?” she called into a radio. “He's been poisoned—I'm not sure what. We need something for it.” She looked at me. “Hang on, okay? Our ship is in a clearing nearby.” She had kind eyes filled with concern for me. Despite it all, despite being the last person in the universe who deserved it, she still cared for me.

“I'm so sorry for what I said to you. For hitting you. I was trying to protect you. To keep you away from me. I'm nothing but death. I didn't want you coming back for me.”

“Yeah, that was really stupid.” I could see she was holding my hand though I couldn't feel it. “The least we mass-murderers can do is stick together and try to help each other climb out of the holes we dig, okay?”

“I should have listened to you. I ended up helping them with my big show. It was exactly what they wanted, what they knew I'd do. I should have listened to you about so many things.” It hurt me to think she had seen what I'd done at the capitol, that she saw fully what a monster I am.

“Don't worry about that. You know the syndicates. You can help us figure out what to do next.” So there was some utility in her coming for me, hoping I would be an asset in the fight against the syndicates. I couldn't have expected her to come out of mere concern for me. Not after what I'd done to her. This made more sense.