"Who is he?"
"A phenomenon. A mutation. A freak. A genius. A god. I can't explain him. He was born twelve years ago, to normal parents in the middle west. He was a recognized prodigy at the age of six months, a mathematical wizard at one, a scientific genius at three.... You've heard of this kind of thing, Ron. Once a generation, something like this. And once a millenium—a horror like this one."
"I don't understand! What is Project Scholar?"
"He is. All by himself. The government has taken charge of his abilities, at least for the time being." He snorted. "He's already done things I wouldn't have believed possible in five thousand years of evolution. And yet he is still only twelve years old...."
"Only twelve?" Ron squirmed in the straps. "Doctor! This body—"
"Yes, Ron. It's his, of course. He grew angry with it; wanted to discard it, like everything else which doesn't fit his conception of the fitness of things. It was awkward—a giant's brain in a child's body. So he developed a solution—an operation, involving the total transference of electrical energy...."
The doctor's shaggy head bowed. "He needed human help for that. That's when I was brought in as assistant. And it was my function to select the perfect body as a temporary house for his ego...."
"Temporary?"
"When this body ages and grows feeble, there will be another. Our friend has outwitted Death itself."
The doctor looked up, his jaw firm.