The Cocktail Party

Ryan didn’t like parties.

He didn’t like small talk — that was the problem. He hated those first strained bits of conversation where two people talked about all the things they didn’t want to talk about. He cringed at the thought of asking someone what they did, and the thought of being asked gave him a stomach ulcer.

He wished people would skip straight to the things that mattered: life, death, God, dreams, ambitions, fears, worries, questions — what kept them up at night and what got them out of bed in the morning. But he was always scared he’d embarrass himself, or get funny looks, or make everything more awkward than it already was.

He couldn’t stand it any longer. He’d been there too long. He’d almost finished his drink, surrounded by conversation, looking weird and anti-social. It was either talk or go home — that was the ultimatum. If he went home he’d have to explain to his friends why, and that thought made his insides positively squirm. He noticed the man next to him had recently been relieved of a conversational partner, and Ryan took the chance.

So what do you do? He said.

The man turned and gave him a straight look. I design programs for autonomous fighter drones, he said. And I get paid ten grand a month for it. I don’t even know what to do with the money. I know I’m responsible for the deaths of hundreds of people. Whenever I tell people what I do, no one ever tells me I should stop, or tells me I’m evil, or what I’m doing is evil. They’re actually impressed how much I earn and how well-connected and smart I am. If I was a kid who said he wanted to build murder machines when he grew up, I’d have probably seen several child psychologists by now. But I’m an adult. I was encouraged every step of the way, and I’ve never been offered therapy in my life. And here I am at this party, in this expensive suit, with an expensive drink in my hand, talking to people and laughing and joking, and no one — not one person — cares about the fountains of innocent blood I’ve poured into the earth.

Ryan nodded gravely. And how long you done that for?