Building A Better Criminal

I rose in the ranks of the mob. My charisma held me in good stead, and there were those who felt I should be groomed to take a position of power in the organisation.

But that was not my path.

I became a safe cracker. The locks used by these humans are pitiful, but I discovered that my own sense of touch is far more sensitive than what humans put up with, which will stand me in good stead. Though I have had to pay off the mob, the protection racket is well within my means. I spend little. Since moving in, I have added a stereo to use for my exercises, and a typewriter that I have yet to experiment with. I am saving for a chess set, since mental exercise is also important.

Most humans are pessimistic about the hopes for survival, but I cannot wallow in misery. I have managed to hack into the phone system; two months of the year I am able to communicate with whomever I wish. I have attempted to raise Baby but she either unable to respond, or no longer around. Instead I talk to some female friends from Boot Camp. My seduction technique was never particularly successful even with my own species, and the body language is all wrong with humans; nevertheless, I believe I am getting the hang of their primitive mating rituals, and I am confident that at least one of my friends will prove a worthy mate.