Page 7 of Adam, Mine

“I . . . I’m sorry,” Victor stammered. “I don’t mean to extend class times. I just . . . It’s really frustrating when you’ve come to a place to seek knowledge and there are stopgaps at every opportunity.”

Petyr nodded. “So, it would be different if they didn’t know, but instead they’ve been insisting that you simply not ask.”

“More than that. I’ve spent so much of my life with my father and in the presence of his work that being here has been a rehashing for me.”

Petyr looked up at Gregor, exchanging a silent observation with him.

“So, have you come to a conclusion on that, then? Reanimation? Because that is the heart of all your little projects. The plasmid blood, the cardio-electrocution, the breathing machine, all your proposals. They’re tools with the end goal of stalling death or managing reanimation shortly after death,” Petyr asked.

Victor shrugged. “Yes. I’m glad you’ve been paying attention, Petyr, but it doesn’t matter unless I have the ability to test any of them on a willing subject—”

A bearded man in a deep burgundy suit stumbled into their table, sloshing his drink in splatters. Henry jerked away in disgust, covering his pint with his hand.

“Ah, excuse me, gentlemen. Sorry, sorry,” he said, then sat at the bar across from them, tilting and swaying dangerously.

Gregor sneered at the man, then turned back to Victor sharply.

“You were saying?”

Grave

Victor was aware he was soundly drunk, but he was having a marvelous time. He had never had so much opportunity to talk to his classmates this way.

Henry—as always—was funny in a blunt sort of way, the way Victor remembered him, and he was surprised at how much he’d missed that.

Jonsi had harsh, strong opinions and had known Petyr the longest, so he was the least likely to be swayed by his presence.

Gregor at his core still very much didn’t seem to like or trust Victor, but he seemed to be playing nice at least for the evening.

“And did you know that the brain can be touched with fingers and implements, producing the most fascinating of side effects? Vision, speech, even: You can manually create emotions like laughter or sadness,”* Victor was saying. He leaned hard into Henry, who had an arm slung round his shoulders.

“Touching a brain? Disgusting. You like disgusting things, little man,” Henry slurred.

“Not so!” Victor objected. “It’s not disgusting, it’s fascinating. I do think as well that we could perhaps keep a brain in suspension if we feed it everything it needs. It doesn’t age like flesh does, exposed to the elements. . . .”

“A floating brain?” Gregor scoffed. “I bet it withers immediately. I bet you can’t. . . . You can’t.”

“You’ve had enough of this,” Petyr said with a laugh, pushing Gregor’s glass out of reach.

“Why do you have so little confidence, Gregor?” Jonsi said. “The wunderkind can do anything, why not this?”

Gregor rolled his eyes. “The wunderkind.” He said unkindly, “How many years of this are we meant to take?”

“Technically there’re only a few months left,” Petyr said with a shrug.

Gregor threw out his arms. “And has he once done more than any of us can do? No. He hasn’t.”

“I can,” Victor said, sitting up straight. “I can do things. . . .”

“You’re just a spoiled daddy’s boy, too much money to know what to do with,” Gregor slurred.

Victor went cold. Henry and Jonsi laughed. Petyr raised an eyebrow, smirking at Gregor, but quickly shifted his face when he saw Victor was watching him.

“He didn’t mean anything by it,” Petyr corrected.

“So what if I did?” Gregor poked a finger in Victor’s face. “What are you going to do about it, Wunderkind. Get your daddy to come rearrange my face?”

“Shove off, Gregor. You’re making him red.” Henry elbowed Victor in the side. Victor snatched himself away and could feel his heartbeat in his cheeks.