Kara Zor-El ( Supergirl SI fanfic)

Let's recap, shall we? My name is **Kara Zor-El**, daughter of **Zor-El** and **Alura Zor-El**. Damn, that'd be confusing if I didn't have the mind of a supercomputer. My mom is a **Judicator**, my dad's a **scientist**, my uncle and his wife are also **scientists**, and my aunt? She's **military personnel**. 

I'm five years old, and my days are filled with combing through my data pad for information. Add that to the list of my mental health issues: **addiction**. At least it's a useful addiction. My brain has this insatiable need to learn, constantly absorbing information like a sponge. I notice little things—like how Mom and Aunt Astra show different ticks when they lie, or how right now, Mom is using me to get Aunt Astra to agree to babysit me. Which is redundant, because Aunt Astra would've agreed without the manipulation tactic. I guess someone can't leave work at, well, work. 

"You can't turn it off, can you?" I had to ask, because this wasn't the first time I'd caught her. 

"What?" We were currently walking home after Dad and I went to pick her up from work. 

"Your manipulation. Aunt Astra would've agreed. I'm too cute to say no to." 

"It's not manipulation if it's true," she replied, her tone light but calculated. 

"You know well what manipulation is, Mother, and you're a performer of the art." 

"Young lady, that is no way to talk to your mother," she answered, but there was a fond smile on her lips. Then she looked at me the way she does sometimes—like she's peering into something deeper, something she can't quite put into words. 

"Why did you ask that?" she said after a moment. "And for the record, it's a habit that I'm trying to rid myself of. Rao knows how much you've been reminding me of my slip-ups lately." 

I took a moment to process that and tried to answer in a way that would be clear and comprehensible. One of the things I've been working on is expressing myself—it's on the list of things better left in my previous life, but you know what they say about bad habits. 

"It's just that mine is always on," I eventually said. "My brain, that is. I realize now how ridiculous this sounds—you can't turn a brain off. When it's off, you're dead, or at least as close to death as one can be. What I'm trying to say is that I'm always thinking, always taking in new information, analyzing and calculating. But it comes with worrying and anxiety. Like, will your success as a Judicator come back to haunt us if a criminal escapes? Or will Dad's secret project become a weapon of mass destruction? Or will someone want it for themselves and come to take it away from him by using us? I know all these worries are unfounded because I've thought of and calculated the unlikelihood of these scenarios happening. I've even set up contingency plans in case the unlikely happens. What I'm trying to say is, I can't turn it off—or at least turn it down!" 

I took a deep breath after that rather lengthy tirade. Mom had this surprised look, and Dad's eyes were understanding. Dad was the first to answer. 

"Krypton hasn't had a natural birth in ages," he began, his voice calm and measured. "The way we reproduce now is… efficient. It creates individuals tailored for the work they will eventually have to do in our society. Meaning more brain for the scientists and judges, and more brawn for the military. Of course, brain and brawn are important to all Kryptonians, but you get the idea." He paused, smiling softly, and looked at my mother and me before continuing. "Your case was slightly different, but not so much that it caused much concern. The number of neurons in your nervous system is above the average for a Kryptonian scientist. This doesn't necessarily mean you'd be smarter than them, but in your case, it turned out to be true. However, with that came complications: increased sensitivity of all your senses, heightened stress and anxiety, and decreased pain tolerance." 

I went quiet for a while, thinking of ways I could train up my tolerance and leverage my strengths. Because although life was good, I couldn't forget that we were currently living on a ticking time bomb. I didn't want my happily ever after to be cut short. 

For now, though, I was just happy. Both of my hands were in my parents' hands, and most of my processing power was currently trying to figure out how the touch of a hand could convey both strength and vulnerability.