Twenty years ago, I might have felt a little differently.
Okay, twenty five years ago.
At that time, I was fresh out of Mars University, a law degree in my hand and a childish belief that people were basically good.
Maybe that was once true – but I doubt it now.
Despite my bright-eyed optimism, I wasn’t entirely naïve – so I became a prosecuting attorney. That way, I figured, I could try to protect the people who were basically good from the minority that were basically bad. I thought if I could keep the trash off the streets, maybe there was hope for the System.
I returned to Buzzville and took a job in the Dome Attorney’s Office. The DA was a decent enough lady, but I got the feeling she was tired and just waiting for retirement. Dome Attorneys didn’t last too long on the moon – too much work, not enough pay. Most moved back to Earth within a year of taking the job.
I took up a lot of the slack, and before long, she did head for the hills, and I headed into her corner office as the new DA.
It wasn’t long after that my parents and sister were murdered by bandits along the Discovery Highway, between Armstrong City and Buzzville.
And that nearly killed me.
Truth is, I was never the same again.
I went on a major drinking binge, picking fights with every criminal I could find (and finding them was easy where I hung out). After nearly dying in three separate bar fights, Judge Armando Hawkins helped me realize that I could best avenge my family by becoming the best dang prosecutor in the System.
So, I cleaned myself up and got back to work.
Only my career ended up taking a turn for the non-existent, thanks to one pivotal case, a couple of weeks before my thirtieth birthday.