Sometimes I think I was just born in the wrong era. Having someone who could make judgments about who lived and died in terms of a group must have been an advantage when everyone lived in caves and hunted woolly mammoths. Someone like me could have made the hard choices everyone else couldn't and keep as many people alive while getting rid of the weak ones that would drag everyone down without worrying about feeling guilty about it afterwards.

[He still hadn't pulled his hand away, not when he'd gotten so focused on the conversation at hand.]

In the modern world all they see me as is some kind of monster, a face to use when they want to remember the world is cruel and death comes for everyone without distinction.