I never really connected with other people as a child. That was fine with me. Other people were weird and unpredictable and often smelled funny.

I much preferred to focus on academics, sports, and—later—video games. Anything that presented me with a clear and well-defined set of rules. Once I knew the rules of the game, I would eventually figure out how to win.

My parents were happy to let their little girl find her own interests, at least until I entered high school without ever bringing a friend over to the house. They really started to worry once they realized that my basic personality was not the result of some sort of phase. They hired experts who diagnosed me with every complex imaginable.

I was happy enough to take their notes to school and score some extra time for myself on standardized tests. As for their prescriptions, those went straight into the trash. If "fixing me" meant becoming more like my peers then I much preferred being broken, thank you very much.

My parents weren't pleased with my attitude. I held firm, though, sticking to my three basic points. First, I was happy. Second, I was getting good grades. Third, my teachers had never seen any reason to complain about my behavior. In the end, my parents relented, although they warned that I could expect another round of psychiatric examination should any of those things change.

High school wasn't exactly fun with that threat hanging over me, but as expected I was able to master the evaluation system easily enough. Grades, standardized test scores, extracurricular activities... my college applications had every angle covered. I was able to get into my first choice of school with an academic scholarship that would cover half of my tuition.

College itself wasn't much of a change. My fellow students seemed intent on wasting their time and sabotaging their own performance. I focused on doing what I had to do in order to excel in my studies and spent my free time ordering virtual armies around on conquest sprees that covered every corner of the world inside my computer.

Then, in my second semester, I took a class on microeconomics. Two weeks in, the scales fell from my eyes. Suddenly I understood the logic behind a world that had always seemed chaotic and random. People pursued their own self interest. If they thought a good or service was worth more than the asking price, they'd buy it. Sellers would only sell if the price were higher than the value of the goods to them. Every voluntary transaction left both sides better off. It all made sense.

Even the behavior of my peers could be analyzed. What I had taken to be nonsensical self-sabotage had an underlying logic: their high time preference. They preferred the proverbial dollar today to ten dollars a year from now. I still wouldn't join in with such foolishness, of course, but at least I had a framework to understand what was going on.

I also finally found a social group which hosted events worth attending. While my fellows seemed more interested in discussing the particular forbidden transactions in which they would like to partake, rather than addressing the more systemic issue of what the free market in narcotics would look like absent government interference, at least we all shared a similar appreciation for voluntary exchange. It cut into my gaming time, but I was happy to make the sacrifice in order to meet people who shared my world view.

Unfortunately, it was after one such event that I was exposed to one of the negative externalities of group membership. Namely, a member of the group volunteered to walk me home.

In theory, I could appreciate the gesture. In practice, the route home ran alongside a busy road that saw very little crime. Moreover, the physical profile of my companion hardly inspired confidence. Presenting two wallets to a would be mugger without appreciably increasing the physical risk involved in taking them would tend to make us a more tempting target for any scofflaws stalking the night.

He also insisted on making conversation.

"Thanks for helping move the tables," he said. "You're in really good shape."

I nodded.

I spent roughly half an hour every day on exercise, alternating between yoga and tai chi. A healthy lifestyle could add more than twenty good years to the end of my lifespan. Assuming that I spent roughly two thirds of those extra years awake, and half the time doing things I enjoyed, it was well worth the daily investment.

"Do you, uh, want to go get dinner some time?" he asked.

I looked at him. I couldn't imagine we shared any dietary preferences. Nor could I imagine us sharing any interesting conversation. "No."

"Or a movie?" he asked. "You know, like a date?"

"Absolutely not," I said. "I can't imagine myself enjoying any time spent with you."

"You were happy enough to let me set up your computer," he whined.

"You saved me thirty seconds of looking up the network information for myself," I said. "In terms of utility, this conversation has put you into the red."

He stopped walking. I stopped as well, turning to observe his reaction. He still looked confused, so I decided to explain my reasoning.

"Your shabby clothing and poor posture indicate a lack of self respect," I said. "And your physical fitness speaks for itself."

If I explained my decision making process, it should help him understand that I was not about to change my answer just by asking again. Also, by spelling out his problems he would at least know what he should work on if he ever hoped to find a romantic partner.

He still didn't respond. For some reason, he just stood there staring at me. His shoulders were slumped, although it was hard to say whether it was an emotional tell or simply his usual bad posture. I sighed.

"On a more visceral level," I said, "The mere thought of letting you touch me is nauseating."

Even a die hard economist understands that not everything can be quantified. In order to understand why the consumer isn't interested in a product, you need to take in the whole gestalt. Profit and loss alone don't account for all those little subconscious thoughts that go into the calculation of utility.

He just kept staring at me. I crossed my arms. I'd said my piece. The evening was a little chilly. If he didn't have any pertinent follow up questions soon, I was about ready to walk home on my own. I tapped my foot to better communicate my impatience.

Suddenly, he yelled something unintelligible and stepped forward before giving me a two handed shove. The tai chi that I practiced was in theory a martial art, but I hardly engaged in daily sparring. Even if I were a veteran combatant, to be attacked out of nowhere for no reason like that would have caught me flat footed.

Despite his unimpressive physique, the relative difference in our weights meant that his shove sent me flying backwards off my feet. And, more to the point, flying over the curb.

I knew how to absorb a fall. Even landing on concrete would have been fine. Unfortunately, as I turned in mid-air, I saw an oncoming semi-truck that would soon make the question moot. Time seemed to slow down as it drew closer. I could even make out the manufacturer's mark, shining in the streetlight.

My economics professor liked to tell the story of the pencil. That is, how no one person has all the knowledge necessary to gather all of the raw material and form the pieces that make up the humble number two pencil. It's the profit motive that brings hundreds of people together, each playing their role in the economy, to produce pencils at such scale that people will give them away for free.

How much more impressive was the construction of a semi-truck? The engine alone dwarfed the pencil in terms of complexity. All those bearings, spark plugs, fan belts, and whatnot, each produced to careful specifications so that they could work together in harmony.

Thousands, maybe even millions of people, each played their role, big or small, in putting that truck together. Then it had rolled off the assembly line in an island nation half the world away before being shipped all the way to the United States, where it had contributed to the economy by hauling goods to and fro.

All those people had come together, to end my life. A shame, that in the end, I would only amount to a speed bump on the way to market.