The next day had arrived, and so had another man.

"Leviĝu kaj sekvu min," he said as he opened the door.

In light of what happened last night, the boy didn't hesitate to stand and, just as the man had ordered him to, follow. As he rose he felt something wet spread across his back. He didn't need to turn around to know it was open wounds from the whip last night. It would seem weird to anyone who hadn't seen it that he had been forced to face toward the man rather than exposing his back to him. The whip was long. It lashed everywhere, including over his shoulders and around his sides to reach his back. Twice it had landed on his face, but thankfully it had only struck his forehead and cheek. It scared him the most when the whip hit his foot—if it wrapped around the ring there and got tangled in it, it would pull and pull and hurt as the bones, muscle, and skin strained to keep the ring in.

In fact, that was actually the point of these rings. The people who worked with him needed some way to hold him down, and had found that way by sticking four metal rings in him—one on each foot and one on each hand. This way if he tried to struggle or resist, the rings could simply be pulled and he would be pinned by them. They also served another purpose. While the rings' main function was to hold him down or force him to go somewhere or do certain things with his limbs, they were also used as a sort of cuff. Instead of having to constantly clasp a cuff on his ankle or wrist, they could use chains to connect an object to the rings. It was a very efficient way to strap him down or onto something. Needless to say, the rings had become their best idea yet to crush any thoughts of rebellion. Ever since they had been put on his obedience had been increasing.

Certain other functions, however, had been decreasing. Take his balance, for example. With the rings on his feet, he was forced to walk a different way. Everyone else walked on the flat of their feet. He had to walk on the side of his feet to avoid having the rings tear into his skin—he'd learned that one the hard way. The good news was, he had grown very accustomed to this new way of walking and it was no longer uncomfortable—it had even become second nature to him. Another example would be his complete inability to hold things normally. Everyone else could hold a handle or a cup, but thanks to the rings in his hands, he couldn't hold anything. The closest he could come to holding something was by using the sides of his hands and applying enough pressure to pick up whatever it was he was trying to hold. And even then, the object usually slipped out of his grasp. The good news to that was, he had become very good at using his teeth to pick things up. He had almost perfect accuracy with his mouth.

The only problem was, most of what he should be able to do was greatly restricted. Even crawling was difficult—he had to use his knees and the back of his wrists.

"Venu kun mi," the man said once the boy approached him.

Once more he obeyed and followed the man out of the cell and down the hallway. He hated being out of his cell. Everywhere else was full of horrible surprises, none of which he could predict. All he knew was that if he was lucky, it would be a physical exam and nothing more. Physical exams still hurt, but it was better than the deponejo de akvo, or the inferno kavo. Or worst of all...the ektoplasmo ujo. The holes they poked in him before he went in there were painful, but when the ectoplasm entered them it was worse than lava being shot through his veins. To say it burned was the understatement of the century. There were no words for it.

"Daŭrigu kun mi!" the man barked.

Just now realizing he was falling behind, the boy tried to speed up to keep pace. The hallway was long, torturous in the fact that it led to somewhere horrible, and nerve-wracking.

So many times he had wanted to get out of here and see what everyone was talking about when they said things like "suno" and "herbaro". But it was a lost cause and he'd given up on it a long time ago. It took him an insane amount of time to see it, but they were never letting him out of here. Their vision of "out of here" was in a different room, but not out of the building itself.

The door at the end of the hallway was opened and the boy took a breath, once again wishing he could go back to his cell.

"Vi devas resti tute senmove dum ĉi tiu testo," the man said, his voice stern and commanding...as if whatever was behind that door was too terrible for words.

Perfectly still... Whatever was behind that door, he had to remain "perfectly still". It only sent his mind into a state of pure panic—an instinct that he had been taught to override using the logic that they would hurt him if he started flailing. Seeing as how he only had a lashing last night, he didn't want to tick these people off. If he just stayed still, he would be okay. Hopefully. Depending on what they did, he would try to stay as absolutely motionless as possible. Aside from breathing and blinking, they were usually satisfied with his obedience. But they only gave praise and credit to his "trainers"—because obviously he had nothing to do with it.

Then again, they were thoroughly convinced that he ran solely on instinct. They thought of him as a feral animal, not a human with emotions. And the sense of touch, which made everything painful. They didn't think he understood anything though. The most he'd ever done in front of them was repeat a few words, but there was something about that that they didn't like and he was punished each time. He knew the entire language though. It wasn't hard to learn when they frequently talked among themselves in his presence. Besides, he'd been able to pick up on it since he was a baby.

Unfortunately, there were others who came in speaking foreign languages. The first few times he thought they were just making weird sounds, but then he realized that it was an entirely different form of communication. It was only on occasion though, and never happened very often. He never had a chance to pick up on any words from those different languages. Some of them spoke his language though, so he could make out what they were saying. It always seemed to be a few greetings first, then deep conversations about him. He never did understand the importance of anything they did here...

"Sidu en ĉi seĝo kaj ne ellitiĝi ĝis mi diros al vi," the man instructed.

The boy looked in front of him to find said chair and obediently sat down in it, hoping they wouldn't be using the rings today.

"Eksperimento 428 estas preta. Procedi kun Projekto Nivelo Up," the man said.

Wait, what?! Nivelo Up?! They said it wasn't ready yet! They said his body was too unstable and couldn't handle it! Projekto Nivelo Up was a dangerous project meant to force new densities in his body. It would harden his bones and strengthen his immune system. It would make his body sturdier. But the huge drawback that made it so dangerous—easily to the point of fatal—was that it drained his energy. His heart could stop from that. His muscles could relax for too long a time—his lungs could go. Without muscle movement, many things would go, and his lymph system wouldn't flow, which meant it would back up in his body. The blood vessels wouldn't push blood through his body. Organs would fail. He would die.

And it only took the tiniest of mistakes—Projekto Nivelo Up was extremely delicate.

"And you're sure he's ready for this?" an unfamiliar voice asked.

The man who had led him to his chair replied, "Absolutely. His new diet has really helped his health. He's also accustomed to all four rings, learned to walk on the sides of his feet, and learned to pick things up without the use of his hands. He may be instinctual, but he's able to adapt. His body should, too.

The boy flicked a quick glance to the side. There was no doubt they were talking about him—it was always about him. He suspected they were talking about Projekto Nivelo Up. Hopefully they were reconsidering. For his mind's sake, he chose to believe that they would realize that he really wasn't ready for something like this.

"Does he know English?" the first man asked, casting a curious look at him.

The other man—one of his "trainers", shook his head and replied, "No. He only understands Esperanto."

"How do you know?"

"He follows orders given in Esperanto, but he doesn't know what he's supposed to do when given an order in English. You're welcome to try yourself if you have any doubts."

The first man walked closer to the boy, seeming to inspect him before kneeling to eye level and asking, "Can you understand what I'm saying?"

The boy looked back at him with a blank stare. To him the words were just a bunch of organized sounds and nothing more. They had no meaning, no significance...nothing.

"Stand up," the same man commanded.

The only response the boy could give was a slight tilt of his head paired with a confused expression.

His "trainer" came over and repeated the command in Esperanto. "Ekstari."

The boy immediately stood and the first man stood with him.

"Hm. I have to say, that's pretty interesting. Why haven't you taught him English?" the first man said—the one that hadn't hurt him for disobeying what might've been an order.

"Well, he runs on instinct, not logic. One language is enough. Two is definitely pushing it too far. He'll never get the hang of it. Besides, I don't even think knows the majority of Esperanto—we usually give him the same orders as one would give a dog. 'Sit, come, stay, lay down.' Just the very simple things like that. It works out for the best anyway, just in case—English is a foreign language to him, so to avoid any potential thoughts of escape or resistance, we can speak freely without him knowing anything we say."

The first man nodded in understanding. "And what about those rings, are they working well?"

The other man smiled and replied, "Better than anything else we've tried! He can't get them out and he rarely pulls back on them. They also do their job just right. In fact, he couldn't run away when he made me whip him last night."

"You whipped him?" The first man raised an eyebrow.

The second man cleared his throat and nodded. "Obedience issues."

The boy continued to stand but they seemed to be forgetting that it was incredibly hard to stand for an extended period of time without losing balance and falling over. Before the rings were put in, he could walk just like they could, but after they tested out the idea—which became very successful—he was forced to walk on the sides of his feet. So staying in one place wasn't easy and he knew that if he kept standing like this, he would fall down. And falling down had annoying consequences—it was barely possible to get back up. He used to be able to use his hands but now...

"It's surprising that you would have obedience issues with those rings on him," the first man mumbled.

The second one shrugged and said, "After today, we won't." Turning to the boy, he commanded, "Sidiĝu."

Finally! The boy sat down and sighed in relief as all that pressure was taken off his feet.

A/N

For the record, an update the very next day is RARE for me, so all who like this story, you just witness the eighth wonder of the world. XD

PLEASE keep reviewing! Just the 7 reviews this story's gotten gave me enough fuel to plow through another chapter of over 2,000 words. :P That's double the first chapter, by the way.

Now to answer some questions:

1. The boy will get his name later. Until then he is Experiment 428.

2. If a story doesn't have "Complete" marked on it, it's not complete. This is the second time I've been asked that about a story and it makes no sense; the answer is RIGHT THERE.