JED

My full name is Jedediah Jeremiah Ahpay, nickname Jed.  Grew up twenty-third century Canada, Lilac Valley Indian Reserve, eastern Saskatchewan, a Saulteaux tribe.  Lilac Valley has a reputation, 48 of the last 50 years leading all other Indian Reserves in Canada, category homicide.  In fact, this little 2,500 person tribe usually beats all Canadian cities in the under 200,000 population category.
First kill, age 8, welfare night, everyone howling, dark of the moon.  Neighbour, totally hammered was firing random shots.  One came too close, crawled in, stabbed him.
The police don't go onto Lilac Valley, simply accept verbatim whatever report Chief and Council choose to file.  Mr Taniskishayinew died of suicide, stabbed himself, end of story.
Like every Canadian child, I took the full test battery age 12.  Intell, aptitude, endless psychobabble.  Me, they discovered an almost total disconnect of emotion, a variant of autism.
At 16, joined the Imperial Star Ship Marines, made sergeant in no time.  Feel absolutely no fear, yet excellent math and geometry, just plan my next moves.  
This trait is both good and bad.  Won me 8 medals, my men follow me anywhere.  Off duty it pinches.  I spook people, bigtime.  They remember close calls on faraway planets where I did not even sweat.  Never find friendships nor love.
Now what the World War 2 Germans experienced in their para assault on Crete, that's what we faced on Zeltar Five.  Wasn't even combat paralyzed 3/4 of my body.  Was a vehicle accident of all things.
My choice, lie there rest of my life playing stupid computer games or recycle.  What else you gonna do?  Spin off into the void.  Enter a random body just before the moment of death by suicide, person leaves in peace, you inherit whatever mess you get.
I woke up in a strange body in a strange apartment in a strange century, crawled to the bathroom, threw up the pills, then slept.  Awaking I took stock.  I was now an Afghan, and yes of all things, a woman.  Oy!
Her job is boring, work in a linen rental service, count in dirty towels and aprons and such coming back from customers.  Got it taped in half hour.  No problem there.  Whatever caused her to take her life would be something personal.
Not able to emote myself, I start visiting the public library, trying to decipher womens magazines.  Nothing fits.  Like trying to look through the wrong end of binoculars or read Swahili.
Any attempts at conversation with other women in library or coffee house, usually result in them running for their lives.  Undoubtedly reacting subconsciously to the aura of one mean master sgt.
Tricky job, but what else can you do?  Slog on.
So, please don't be rude to me, doing the best I can.