Chapter Five

Sitting at the kitchen table Peter stared sightlessly at the lap top computer screen in front of him. There was a plate with an untouched sandwich sitting next to him. Neal had offered it to him for lunch, but he wasn't hungry. In fact he worried that anything he tried to eat wouldn't stay down. It was only half way through the first day with his new owner but the pain across his shoulders was already getting increasingly difficult to hide. Peter had been considering telling Neal about his issue when Cheng's name and ownership had come up. However he'd been distracted when Mozzie had arrived. After having met Neal's short, distrusting friend Peter hadn't dared admit to having a weakness.

Peter glanced over at Neal who was stretched out on the couch reading a book. He wondered what it was that the unemployed con man did with most of his time. Along with Peter he had won a Ming dynasty vase and a 1867 Naval Remington pistol with a Civil War General's name engraved on it. Neal had given the items to Mozzie to sell and they would probably fetch a price that would allow them to live comfortably for a few months, but after that he'd have to run another scam. In the tale of The Ant and The Grasshopper Neal was without question a grasshopper.

Neal had given Peter a task of going through some company prospectus for future stock selections. Peter doubted that Neal was truly interested in investing any of his ill begotten funds, he was most likely just trying to prove to his friend that all Peter needed to settle in was a job to do. If it would keep Neal from thinking he needed to use a collar Peter would gladly pointlessly sift through information on random companies for the rest of his life.

Feeling a chill that he feared was the start of a fever Peter tried once more to focus on the task he'd been charge with. His thoughts drifted back to the first time he'd had trouble concentrating. It was a day forever stamped into his memory, since it was among his first clear memories. Something had gone wrong with him at a very young age, he wasn't sure exactly what it had been or why it had happened to him and not the others, all he knew was that it had branded him for life.

Ten years old Peter scrolled through the days lesson on his computer. Usually he had perfect focus, but lately he had been finding himself becoming distracted. He looked around at the other boys in his cohort, but none of them seemed to be struggling like he was. Not particularly interested in the paper on complex supply and demand theory that he was supposed to be reading Peter turned to look out the window. The window had always been there, but it had never really interested him. There wasn't much of a view, just the mirrored windows of the next skyscraper over. However studying the reflection in the shinny building Peter could make out the distorted image of part of the city.

Peter had learned some about the world outside the Market, but all he really knew was facts and figures about it. He'd never really thought about what it was like out there. The Master at the front of the class room cleared his throat when he noticed that Peter wasn't paying attention and Peter instantly drew his eyes back to his work. It was another few long hours before the teacher announced that the day was over and that they were dismissed.

There were fifteen other Animula his age that he spent all of his time with, but couldn't tell one of them from the other. He'd never had any interest in talking to any of them and they had never shown any interest in him or each other. While they were filing out of the room to go to dinner a boy ahead of him in line suddenly tripped and landed on the floor. Two of the other boys walked past him, and Peter was about to do the same but at the last minute he stopped and reached down to help him back up.

"Are you okay?" Peter asked.

"Fine." The boy answered simply and left.

Thinking nothing of the encounter Peter went to leave as well.

"Peter." Thompson called. "Come here."

Peter hesitated to follow the order, something he'd never even thought to do before. When his Master took a breath to repeat himself Peter hurried over before he had to be told twice. Kneeling down in front of the teacher Peter kept his eyes on the floor. He hadn't been taught to avoid eye contact, it just came naturally to him, however this time he found himself wanting to glance up even though he didn't act on the impulse.

"Yes, Master?" Peter asked respectfully.

"Why did you help Alan to his feet?"

"His name is Alan?" Peter asked, wondering why he'd never bothered to learn it before.

"Yes. Why did you help him?"

"He fell."

"I can see that, but why did you help him?" Thompson pressed.

"I..." Peter paused realizing that he didn't really know why. "I guess it just felt like the right thing to do."

"Are you getting bored with your studies?"

"...yes, Master." Peter admitted reluctantly.

"Look up at me."

Peter was slow to look up, his stomach was feeling weird, like there was something fluttering around inside it. The off feeling had been happening on and off for a few weeks but he hadn't thought to mention it. Looking up into Thompson's blue eyes with his deep brown one Peter smiled at the unfamiliar sensation of eye contact, he'd never experienced the silent communication that it produced before. Like waking up from a dream he was slowly starting to see everything around him differently. He also noticed the concern on Thompson's face, he found himself feeling a little proud that he had found meaning in the man's expression, it was a talent that had always eluded him.

"What's wrong, Master?"

"What's wrong is the fact that you notice something is wrong. You are much too young to be imprinting." Thompson replied seriously.

"Imprinting?"

"Take your shirt off." Thompson ordered rather than answered.

With no reason not to comply Peter pulled off his plain white shirt. Thompson took a hold of Peter's wrist and raised his arm up high. Thompson inspected under his arm and swore under his breath when he noticed a fine amount of dark hair beginning to grow in Peter's arm pit signifying an early onset puberty. Thompson instructed him to put his shirt back on. Becoming increasingly frightened, which was feeding off itself since it wasn't something he was familiar with, Peter crawled back into his shirt as he started to tremble.

"Am I falling ill?" Peter asked quietly.

"Not exactly." Thompson sighed. "Come on, get up. Follow me."

Peter nodded and got to his feet. Thompson lead him down the hall and towards the elevator. It was rare for him to ever leave the floor that he'd grown up on and he found himself excited to see what else was in the building even though he'd never been curious about it before. They went down a few floors before the doors opened. Going down a long hallway they came to a door that Thompson knocked on and waited for an invitation before opening the door and stepping in. Peter looked around at the well decorated office in awe. There was an older man he'd never seen before sitting behind a well polished wooden desk.

"Frank." Simmons greeted Thompson by his first name. "What's going on?"

"One of the ten years is imprinting."

"What? Are you sure? He's much too young for that."

"I'm telling you, he's going to go gold any day now."

"Great." Simmons growled. "What are his study scores?"

"Among the highest in the class. In fact I've already started economics with him."

Peter didn't have any idea what the humans were talking about, but he didn't like their tone. Suddenly feeling a sharp twisting in his stomach Peter hugged his arms over the mysterious pain.

"Peter?" Thompson asked. "Are you alright?"

"My stomach hurts." Peter admitted.

"See? He's further along than I thought, he's already developing anxiety."

"Have I done something wrong?" Peter asked as his heart started to race as adrenaline poured into his blood for the first time.

"Damn it." Simmons growled ignoring Peter's question. "Alright, send him down to Richards in Iso."

"Isn't it too late for that?"

"It certainly isn't ideal, but we've already invested several hundred thousand into him. I'm not just going to euthanize him on the off chance that we've missed the window."

"He's going to end up insane, at the very least he'll be defiant."

"At first he'll be trouble, but don't worry, I've seen this happen a few times, a strong owner or two will break him in and he'll be just like rest."

"I hope you're right...for his sake."