An Imperfect World

I gaze at the planet below from the comfort of my personal meditation chamber. The crew knows not to trouble me outside of an emergency.

Some might find me peculiar for what I find comfortable, but no one is foolish enough to voice such thoughts.

My tastes are simple. Black square tiles are in perfect order. The hexagonal window is similarly perfect in its symmetry. I have conquered these heels, my gait is perfect.

I demand perfection in all things.

The planet below is close to meeting our specifications. So very close, but not perfect.

I refuse to allow imperfection in this universe.

I look at the planet one last time. It deserves to be remembered, as a lesson if nothing else.

"Erase the target," I say to the stale air of the empty room.

There is a flash of light, and the planet is gone from the universe. My crew performs perfectly as always.

"Next planet," I say, and I feel the ship readying to depart.

I command perfection. It obeys me.

I smile.