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Book One World War Three 1946

Book One World War Three 1946
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Friday, December 9, 2011

The Eyes Have It

He looked into the eyes of a killer. I guess the conviction of his beliefs gave him the courage. Courage that he never knew he possessed. Courage that may get him horribly tortured or murdered. If he had know just how utterly ruthless his inquisitor was he may have acted differently. But what did it matter whether a man killed one or millions. He was still a killer.

He had to focus and stop thinking about how short the man behind the desk was. He had to ignore the pocked marked skin and concentrate on what the crewel mouth behind the huge mustache was saying. What the actual words were and what the veiled threat behind them was. Because of how his mind worked it was hard for him to tell these things.

His mind was like a machine. Everything was orderly and logical. He was usually helpless when he had to deal with other human feelings. He was not a sociopath just not adept at picking up the physical clues that most people took for granted. The meanings of the change of tone or emphasis on certain words eluded him. He was lacking in interpersonal skills. Logically he realized this but it did him no good. He just didn’t have the capacity to adapt to most of the difficult situations that most of us cope with daily. The difference between a white lie and a real lie puzzled him.

Consequently he never lied.

The man across the table from him lived to lie. He ate lies. He breathed lies. To him it came as natural as blinking your eyes. He was a master at it. Sergo was helpless on many levels if the man with the mustache wanted to destroy him. He could tell Sergo a lie about a subject dear to his heart and psychologically ripe his ego apart in less than three sentences. He could mentally send him into the depths of hell and cause suicidal thoughts with ease. The man across the table has both killed and crushed the very soles of thousands of victims.

Yet with Sergo he didn't. He was never even tempted. From the first time they met he knew exactly how valuable this thing, that called himself a man, was. Imagine having a conversation with this human calculator, this idiot savant of logic, feeding into it all the pertinent information needed and absolutely counting on it to give you the most logical and unemotional solution to any problem. Give him the facts and the most logical solution would come out devoid of any politics or emotion. Yet he was able to factor in human feelings such as jealousy and fear in his calculations. So in essence he was much more valuable than what we now know as a computer.

Sergo was such a fiasco as a functioning human being that he posed no threat. He was the closest thing there is to a living breathing calculating machine that ever existed. The only thing that touched his soul was flight. The only thing he dreamed about or spent idle moment thinking about was birds and planes. That and puzzles.

He loved solving puzzles whether just in his mind or ones that involved any kind of logical system. He tended to reduce all problems he is given to solve into abstract terms and then worked them in his mind like someone playing chess. If this piece does that then this piece can counter here, action and reaction…if we did that, they do this. Yet he was able to factor in the human factor. There was just a enough humanity built in him to factor in the emotions a machine could never emulate.

This made him invaluable. That meant he will not meet the fate that befell so many. Sergo will die peacefully in bed.

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