Title: Peculiar Institution
Rating: T, for some possible coarse language and the eventual inclusion of adult themes

Summary: In a world where the Scream Extractor is a name on every tongue and human children have become part of the workforce, Randall Boggs makes an irrational decision and has to deal with the consequences.

Disclaimer: All canon settings, concepts, and characters belong to the good people at Pixar and Disney who created Monsters, Inc. All original material, including characters and concepts, are otherwise mine.

Author's Notes: All right, folks, welcome to "Peculiar Institution" and thank you for giving my fic a chance. This is my first Monsters, Inc. fic (and likely only, unless Inspiration smacks me particularly hard).

Now, this is an Alternate Universe fic. What would have happened, I asked myself when this idea first occurred to me, had Mike and Sulley not made it back to the monster world? What would have happened had Mr. Waternoose's plan for rejuvenating Monsters, Inc. had succeeded?

In PI, I've answered that, the way I see it. Other than Sulley and Mike remaining banished in the human world, the only other change I've made is that the CDA was never investigating the company.

Armed with that background info, I beg you, go forth into my fic and read. I hope you enjoy.

The intricately postered bedroom door creaked faintly as Corinne pushed it open, padding with near silence into her room and dropping her bag on the floor. If she could just keep from making a sound, maybe she could…

"Mmm-hmm. And where have you been that's kept you out this late at night—again?"

His voice was accusatory, and Corinne didn't blame him. Curfew had been, oh, an hour ago, and she hadn't bothered to call. He emerged from the shadow-cloaked corner of her room, arms crossed, glasses glinting dangerously. His dark hair, usually so neatly styled, was looking a little frayed at the edges, a sure indication that he had been up for a long time; waiting for her, no doubt.

"David," she said simply, dropping her head and trying to look properly regretful. "I'm so sorry. I meant to call, really I did! But I left my phone at home and no one else had any reception—" The thin man who was her guardian held up one hand, forestalling the rest of her story.

"Corinne, if I want to hear your excuses, I'll sit in on one of your classes at school," he said gravely, sighing. "I know you give your teachers plenty of them—they sure call me enough about it. I really don't want to do this, but…well, I think I'm going to have to ground you." Corinne's face fell.

"David, I'm sorry!" she protested. "I didn't mean to stay out this late! You know I lose track of time easy!"

"I know you do," the man said. "That's why I persist in buying you watches of all shapes and sizes, which you consistently ignore."

"But—!"

"No 'buts'," he said firmly, crossing the room to stand right in front of her. Always a tall man, David towered over her. "I warned you that if this happened again, there'd be trouble. It's happened; now there's trouble." He lifted his hands, resting them on her shoulders and looking her directly in the eye. "I knew what I was getting myself into when I agreed to keep an eye on you for your mother until you could fend for yourself, but…"

"You're regretting it, aren't you?" she asked hotly, eyes narrowing.

"No, no, nothing like that," he assured her. A quizzical look crossed his face, as if that was something he hadn't even considered. "No, it's just that sometimes the things you do…I don't know, they make me think I've gotten myself in over my head." He sighed again, gesturing with one hand, as if trying to grasp some elusive concept or phrasing for what he was trying to say. Corinne crossed her arms now, resolutely looking away. David growled under his breath.

"Forget it," he said suddenly, throwing both hands up in the air and turning away. "I won't try talking to you if you're not going to listen." He spun away, the hem of his coat flaring as he stormed to her door. "But if I catch you outside of this room again before I give you leave, I'll smear you in goat's blood and send you to Ecuador." With that unique threat, he turned on one booted heel, slipping as silently from the room as she had entered it. Corinne stared straight ahead for a minute, before clenching her fists and whirling towards the door.

"Fine!" she screamed. "Fine! Be that way! See what I care! I'll be out of your damned hair in a few years anyway!" She stomped across the room and slammed the door with as much force as she could muster, before stomping just as noisily back to her bed and throwing herself down on it. She buried her head in her arms and, without really meaning to, began to sob.

Randall Boggs pushed the chair he was seated in back from his desk, taking care not to send it into one of those dizzying spins it seemed so fond of performing. He was getting fed up with the trivial work he was doing. Loathe though he was to admit it, he almost missed the days when he got to work hands on with the children that were being brought in so regularly now. Ever since he had perfected the Scream Extractor and had it patented (under Mr. Waternoose's name, unfortunately), he'd been relegated to the office work befitting a monster on Monsters, Incorporated's Board of Directors. It was boring as all hell.

He did make a boatload of money for doing almost nothing though, which was a perk. The job of scarer, the position he had held in the company before being suddenly booted up to Director, had paid better than most as well, because it was thought to be so dangerous. But when the price of power had fluctuated, their wages fluctuated, and it had run a little thin sometimes.

That no longer mattered, though, to anyone; it was all thanks to him. He had revolutionized the scaring industry! The Scream Extractor, the machine that pulled pure scream energy from human children, was his brainchild and his beloved creation. He had come up with the idea, he had designed it, and he had even built a good part of it, with help from his assistant Fungus. After the initial prototype had been completed, there had been an incident with some former scarers at the company that nearly set work back to the initial stages, but Waternoose had taken care of that problem for him. Randall didn't know where Sullivan and Wazowski were in the human world, and frankly, he didn't care.

Waternoose hadn't been able to secure the patent on the machine, though, until one final, crucial thing was proven—human children were not toxic, in any way. That had been quite the difficult hurdle to surmount, though convincing the multitudes of monsters that the findings were correct was harder than actually proving it. He had managed that too, and it had catapulted him into fame. He was living the good life now, even when one didn't take into account the interesting little side effect the final model of the Scream Extractor had on humans.

It had come as a complete surprise. As it developed, the SE didn't just suck the scream, the energy source so vital to everyday monster life, from the kids; it sucked the personality out of them too. All of it. They were left as zombies—impressionable, commandable, controllable little zombie kids. Zombie kids couldn't be quietly returned to their rooms, now could they? That, at least, was the logic that had led to the idea of keeping the kids in the monster world, and it wasn't long before they were running errands and doing those little, dirty jobs that no one wants to, even if someone had to.

Randall had refrained from purchasing a human servant, though he probably wouldn't even have to pay for one if he wanted it. He found the practice disgusting, and something about those emotionless little drones unnerved him. They were always blank-eyed and spoke in monotone voices, if they could be coaxed to speak at all. They exhibited no signs of intelligence, and it was creepy. He preferred to be able to converse coherently with the people who worked for him.

Today they were trying something new, though, and he was looking forward to it. Up until now, the humans used for the SE process had never been older than ten years, the age at which most young humans began growing out of their easily-scared stage. It was logical to use the humans that had been the easiest to scare when scarers were still needed to produce energy, because it was assumed that those abducted were already conditioned to screaming in response to monsters. However, an important question had been raised at the last meeting of the Board of Directors: what does it matter if they are preconditioned or not? The scream is taken forcibly from them anyway. Couldn't older, larger humans produce more?

So today was the start of a new round of testing on human subjects—older ones. They were going to try taking teenagers ranging from eleven to seventeen years of age today, to see if the extraction process was more profitable with them. In fact, there was the signal he was waiting for now; the intercom unit on his office desk buzzed, and his secretary's voice, honey-sweet, rang through.

"Mr. Waternoose requests your presence on Acquisition Floor B, Mr. Boggs, sir."

Randall leaned forward, pressing the reply button. "Tell him I'm coming," he ordered, getting to his feet without waiting for a reply. He stepped around his desk and exited the office. He nodded to his secretary, a tall thin monster with a profusion of legs that went on forever and a halo of wild hair about her face, and passed through into the hall. Once out there, he picked up speed, hurrying out of the management wing of the building and into the Human Child Acquisition Floors. He made a point of nodding or waving cordially at anyone he happened to pass, but didn't give any of them a chance to say more than a word or two of greeting before he was gone.

Apparently, Mr. Waternoose requesting his presence on Floor B didn't necessarily mean that the head boss himself would be there—the big monster was conspicuous only by his absence. Not that Randall had any problem with that, of course; he'd just as much rather not have to deal with the pompous old man and that omnipresent little human tagalong he seemed so fond of publicly showing off. The team of monsters in charge of doing the actual job of capturing the humans (affectionately called Kid Katchers) were all gathered already and setting up. A chorus of greetings rang out to meet him as he entered the cavernous room.

Raising his upper pair of arms, Randall signaled for silence, which he instantly got. He glanced around at the gathered monsters, feeling an unexpected surge of pride at seeing them answer so willingly to him.

"Everyone's acquainted with the procedure for today?" he asked loudly, tilting his head to one side and listening for the expected reply. It came instantly, all in the affirmative. "Good. Glad to hear it. Don't forget those precautions we talked about. Older humans are potentially dangerous—be on the lookout for anything. You never know what they might pull." There was some concern that these older humans would be more unpredictable and violent than the younger ones. This team of Kid Katchers had been hand selected by him and was made up of only the bravest, most skilled, and craftiest of them. It took a quick mind to make sure the abductions went off silently and without a hitch, and these monsters had it. Humans were known to bite, kick, throw things, thrash, and above all, scream like banshees when monsters invaded their rooms, and they could not be allowed to scream and bring their parents at any cost, which was why craftiness was a Kid Katcher's most valuable skill.

Randall took a moment to look over the stations lined up and prepared for use. They looked like the stations that had been used by scarers in the past, but hey, wasn't that what they were? There was a closet door and a scream collection canister set up at each one. (If something went wrong, there was no sense in wasting good scream!) A monster stood outside each door, ready to leap inside and take the child in the room. Assistants stood at the ready, waiting to man the cages built to hold the children when they were caught. All they needed was the signal, and they would spring into action.

The pride was still there, and deservedly so—this, all of this, was only happening because of him. It was his doing, the result of his work. He'd trained these monsters, developed the methods and protocol they followed, designed the whole damn system. It was a thing of efficient beauty. He had a right to be proud.

He looked up once more at the row of Kid Katchers waiting for his signal, and nodded once. Somewhere over his head, an alarm blared, shrilly, and it was all they needed to hear. Within an instant, they were through the doors, and he was left alone on the floor with the assistants.

Author's Notes: So there you go! That's the first chapter of "Peculiar Institution".

PI is unusual (in terms of my fanfic habits) in that I haven't finished yet—I don't make a habit of posting unfinished fic, because I don't want to take the risk of running out of steam on a story and leaving it in permanent hiatus. I know I can finish this story, though, which is why I've decided to begin posting it, even unfinished. I just…really feel like all I need is some positive feedback to get me rolling. Knowing that I have people who are reading it and expect me to finish—knowing I'm obligated to you—will hopefully help me over the hump.

Man, that came out like a really complicated plea for reviews, didn't it? Bugger. Well, er…review if you want to, and the next chapter will be up in about a week. All feedback is welcome and appreciated. Thank you!