Perfection was as she was called, simple perfect.
Perfection cannot be measured, as every individual on the planet has different perceptions of what it means to be perfect.
So perfection was never the same to one one person as she was to another.
Her appearance changed and shifted.
The only sameness to her was that everyone who laid eyes upon her believed her to be beautiful.
She herself didn't even know what she looked like-if in fact she had one single appearance that remained the same no matter who looked upon her.
When people described her they always came up with differences;
"she has beautiful long blond hair and sea blue eyes,"
"She stands tall, with dark hair and skin"
"She has brown hair and cute dimples in her cheeks"
Perfection herself longed for sameness, craved it like a junkie craves a fix.
She wore a baggy hoodie and sunglasses whenever she ventured outside and kept her head down.
She worked from home, putting her intelligence to work as a legal hacker, meaning she never had to put up with stares and whispers and men calling to her or giving her the once over.
A few knew her, and thought of her as friend, but the strange unknown nature that made her the embodiment of perfection, did not take away her shyness and consciousness of her beauty.
She liked this life, secluded as it was.
Once, long ago she had tried other professions, ones that brought her out into the world but still out of the public eye.
She could have made a fortune with her looks, could have sold her perfect image to gain worldwide recognition and basked in the luxury it gave her.
And yet she could not bring herself to do it, the very thought made her shrink in on herself and seek out a dark corner to huddle and regain herself.
She sat at her desk and longed for the only profession that had given her any joy, although many would think her stange for having thought so.
She had once been in the armed forces. Her nature offering her perfect aim 100% of the time, speed, agility and strength way beyond that of a normal human woman.
It had offered her not only a place to exercise her physical superiority but aso given her a family.
Something about the threat of death and constant danger made a unit of soldiers closer than any bond normal society could muster.
She was accepted and respected even if she was inhumanly beautiful, the stares had become more appreciative than lustful and near the end they had stopped all together, she began to crawl out of her shell, not fearing rebuff or attack because her appearance brought out the worst in people as much as it brought out the best.
She had lived the perfect life among her comrades for two blissful years.
But as with all things that involved her, it was not long before it was destroyed.
Her family ripped apart by death and a road side bomb in a supposedly peaceful country.
She returned to her shell, living on only memories.
The only survivor, because her nature also kept her eternally perfect, and meant no injury lasted more than a few seconds, no matter the severity.
She took in the numbers on the screens in front of her, her perfect eyesight taking in all five screen simultaneously and her perfect mind processing the information with ease as her fingers flew over the keys.
She did this with a numbness that spoke volumes.
A knock at the door broke through her haze and she though of answering it but then turned back to the screens and the picture that rested beside the keyboard.
She got to her feet and went to answer the persistent knocking.
This short story is merely an experiment and an idea Ive been throwing around in my head for a while now, so tell me what you think of it. Its a little different from my other stuff, bit weirder, so as I said keep an open mind, its quite short and has no answers. :)
