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Printed from https://www.Writing.Com/view/1484977
by Shadow
Rated: 13+ · Fiction · Psychology · #1484977
When logic is a motive for murder. First meeting with a genius killer.
Humans are interesting creatures.  Quite interesting.  In everything from their disorders to their motives to their seemingly pointless schedules.  Don’t get me wrong, I do all the same strange things, but at least I realize how strange and illogical it is.

Perhaps that’s how I ended up here.  I’ll spare you the name of the place, it’s pathetically euphemistic.  In short, I have found myself confined to an asylum.  Not just your typical mental institution, either.  This one is specifically for those of the criminal persuasion, though I’d rather not think of myself that way.

Let us clarify a few things before I tell you anything else.  I know that in theory what I did was wrong, but logically it was the right thing to do.  The basis for my conviction is fundamentally flawed.  I am also perfectly sane, perhaps more so than those who decided otherwise.  And yet this is probably better for me than the alternative, which is prison or even death.  They cannot legally or ethically kill someone who has been declared insane.

What, you may ask, did I do?  Very simply, I killed a man.  You may now be wondering why I think it was only wrong in theory.  The theory is that all humans are equal.  I will accept that a life is a life, even that in committing murder one is playing god, but the idea that all humans are equal is fundamentally flawed.  As that was the basis for my conviction, I would say I have been wrongly imprisoned.

You see, all humans are not equal.  It is said that no one is inherently good or inherently evil.  I will also concede that point.  However, some people do have more potential to commit acts which would be classified as evil than do others.  And if these people are raised in certain conditions, these characteristics will show themselves in a very prominent manner.  I am in no way saying that this is the fault of the individual, merely that it is truth.  This man was one of these people.  That is why I killed him.

But I feel I have told you enough about my supposed crime for the time being.  Perhaps I should share something of my background before you too deem me insane.  I am a scientist and a novelist.  A fantasy writer, to be more specific.  My novels have been praised as works of genius, though I fail to see it.  I have only read each of them once, each one year after its publication.  In this way I allow myself to step back from them and see them in different light.  It is also during this that I begin to notice errors in logic, character flaws, awkward wording, and a number of other things which prevent me from ever reading these books again.  I would drive myself crazy nitpicking my work.

About my field of science.  It isn’t something most people have the stomach for, so I shall spare you the details.  I am a forensic anthropologist.  I work mainly in identification of human remains, be they victims of murder, victims of genocide, or casualties of war.  I do occasionally work with the police.  Most of my time, however, is spent either in the field or in the classroom.  I teach.  Graduate students mostly, though I do teach a few undergraduate courses when I am requested to do so.  I am proud to say that I am reasonably well respected among my colleagues, though there are those among them who disapprove of my career as a writer.  Most of these dismiss fantasy novels as escapism not worthy of their time.  Personally, I don’t care what they think.  I delight in literature, but I respect the fact that there are those who do not.

There are a few of my colleagues who dislike me strictly on principle.  I’m quite young to be a college professor.  I already have my doctorial degree and graduated top of my class.  Still there are those who say I lack experience.  I respect that, since I admittedly have not lived long enough to understand many of the things they do.  But I feel I have lived enough to merit respect.

As you may have gleaned from my previous statements, I am considered to be something of a genius.  There are those here who say that that was my downfall.  I don’t know if I agree with either statement.  I will admit that I am more intelligent than most people I have met.  I learn things more quickly, grasp concepts more clearly, am able to understand things better, and have a greater capacity for imagination.  However, there are a great many things that those of average intelligence have a much better understanding of than I do.  Popular culture and social conventions rank quite high on this list.  I understand them in theory, but not in practice.  I am not what you could call a social person.

This last point may seem odd for an anthropologist, but you must consider that I spend a great deal more of my time either in solitude or among the dead than I do among other living people.  I have been told numerous times that my lack of even the vaguest semblance of a social life is unhealthy, but I disagree.  It is much more stressful to be forced to deal with the living than to reside among the dead.  Solitude too has its perks.  I personally enjoy the peace and quiet granted by solitude.  Of course, I do not live completely alone.  I do have two dogs.  I find dogs to be overall more tolerable than people.

But I think this is enough of an introduction for the time being.  Perhaps we shall continue this later.  I do look forward to speaking with you again.  You are one of the few people I have met here who seems to understand what I have to say.
© Copyright 2008 Shadow (silvershadows at Writing.Com). All rights reserved.
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Printed from https://www.Writing.Com/view/1484977