Decorated in calm and beautifully utilitarian hues, Iason's office was uniformly devoid of any unnecessary extravagances.

At that moment, Iason was sitting in his executive chair, relaxed, his eyes focused on the market data scrolling past on the computer screen. Out of the corner of his eye he observed a flashing glow indicating an incoming personal call.

The corners of his mouth softened slightly. The signal came from the special phone he'd given Riki. The one embedded with a GPS tracking device.

He clicked on his video phone. Riki, though, was in voice-only mode.

"Yes?"

"I—"

"I assume things are settled on your end?"

"Ah—"

Their words overlapped. Neither bothered to identify himself.

"I see."

The display conjured up a map of Midas and pinpointed Riki's location.

"I'm sending a capsule car to your location. Don't go anywhere." Iason typed as he spoke, executing the commands.

"What's the cab number?"

"T-085."

No need to waste any breath. The line went dead.

Katze could understand a flock from a single bird, an intelligence that set him apart from his peers. Perhaps because of his five-year tenure as furniture and the deeply ingrained fear toward Iason imprinted in him, Katze's attitude of absolute submission had never lessened.

But a slum mongrel who didn't feel compelled to fawn, who said what was on his mind—even if it amounted to little more than stubbornness—was a precious item. That Iason had reached the point where he would condone such behavior was something of a miracle to him.

Well, Iason mused to himself, we had to go all the way around the block to get there, but we managed.

From the desk drawer, he extracted a slender, braided, platinum alloy chain attached to a leather collar. Z-107M was engraved on the metal. Four and a half years before, Iason had procured it for Riki.

Until he received an official pet ring at his coming-out party, a pet reared in Eos couldn't go anywhere without a collar. The security checkpoints relied on the pet ring instead of an ID. A pet lacking a ring was not recognized as a resident of the Eos community and couldn't step out of his room.

A pet with a collar attached would be instantly recognized as a newcomer, and any blunders or mistakes would be forgiven a pet wearing such a collar. It was an essential item for the new pet that gave him a little breathing space to get used to his new environment.

The typical expectation in Eos was that a pet would wear a collar no longer than two weeks or so. Half a year—as in the case of the senseless, shameless Riki—was a downright disgrace.

"The lowest sort of trash, vulgar, dirty, undisciplined—"

But really? Recalling his thoughts at the time, a wry smile creased Iason's lips. Riki's wild nature was evidence of his lack of imprinting. Calling him "dirty" was an excuse to get out of his way. Those who called him the worst were only broadcasting their jealousy and fear.

Turning a slum mongrel into a pet was the biggest scandal to hit Eos society since its founding. Of course, in Iason's case, it was a willing crime of conscience.

"Iason, bringing that gutter rat into Eos will stain your reputation," Raoul had observed with evident bitterness.

In fact, life with Riki had been one crisis after another. Having become accustomed to a life where nothing interesting happened on a regular basis, Eos had suffered all the excitement from the daily scandals that it could stand.

Introducing a slum mongrel into a world where a pet was valued chiefly for the purity of its pedigree—and its shamelessness and submissiveness—was like tossing a wolf into a herd of sheep.

It'd been four and a half years. Iason had met Riki some time before claiming him, but after suffocating him in the oppressive licentiousness of Eos, he'd let Riki go for eighteen months. Being back in his old nest had refreshed Riki's intrepid spirit.

It also seemed that enduring an unexpected period of abstinence had left Riki's body in a state of craving, echoing Iason's hunger over their time apart. During that time in the slums, the old fire had returned to Riki's eyes. And all the while, the pet poison was soaking into every fiber of his body.

Yes, that must be it.

"And what turbulence will we be heading into this time?" Iason asked himself as he played with the leash. "It should be quite a ride."

Riki's pet registration was still on the books. He was already wearing a pet ring. Even so, Iason wanted the road back to Eos as trouble-free as possible. An Eos-bred pet only left the front gates after its registration was deleted and it had been consigned to the scrap heap. The only exception to the rule was Riki.

As a slum mongrel, Riki existed outside of Pet Law. Though there wasn't any legal reason Iason couldn't bring him back to Eos, groundwork had to be laid to avoid any unnecessary trouble.

The leash was one such indispensable item. Granted, Riki would recoil from being chained again to that collar. That image in his mind, Iason slowly got to his feet and left the room to meet Riki.

Midas. Area 3 (Mistral Park). Genova.

Staring at the large convention center and its accompanying buildings off in the distance, Riki turned off his phone.

Genova in Mistral Park was the closest point to the slums on the official maps. It was past three in the afternoon, but the pedestrian traffic was light. The tourist guides designated the nearby areas as a "red zone," and as a result, even the shuttle buses that ran every Area didn't stop in Genova.

At best, once in a while, a group of thrill-seekers would hop in an air taxi and come to the borderline. That made it an ideal place to hook up with Iason, no questions asked. In any case, the phone—that Iason had given to Riki—wouldn't connect in Ceres. It had nothing to do with frequency allocations or cell tower locations. Signals from Midas into Ceres were deliberately jammed.

On the ground, though the border dividing Ceres and Midas was clearly demarcated, there were no intimidating gates or checkpoints to keep the slum residents in their place. But Ceres was still cut off from the outside world.

It was like an island in an urban sea. If its denizens wished to know what was going on in the outside world, they had to go there on their own two feet and find out for themselves. That was why information dealers were so important in the slums. And informants didn't have a set rate. Everything was negotiable.

Riki traveled to Genova on his jet bike. As it didn't have auto-homing capability, once Iason's capsule car came to get him, he'd abandon it. It wouldn't sit abandoned for long. A rebuilt jet bike had a lot of value as a status symbol. Or else it would get sold off to a junkyard before the first spot of rust appeared.

Mulling over his bike's fate, Riki lit a cigarette. It was a way to stave off the boredom and keep his hands busy. Or perhaps the behavior of a reluctant returnee. There was already a collar around his neck and Iason held the invisible leash. He'd been holding it for four and a half years.

How did he get here? How did all this happen? Riki knew he was spinning his wheels thinking thoughts like that. No matter how harshly he interrogated himself, the desired answers never came. His only recourse, then, was to face whatever the future had in store for him.

By the time he'd finished the cigarette, the empty T-085 capsule car had arrived. He unslung his knapsack and climbed in. As there was no way of determining its final destination, as soon as the door closed, Riki sat back and closed his eyes.

Ten minutes later, the capsule car glided to a quiet stop. The fare having been prepaid, the doors opened at once. Riki wasn't interested in where he was. It was simply another transfer station on his way to jail. His only job was to wait there until he received another set of instructions.

His phone rang. Iason had calculated the time to the minute. "You arrived?"

"Yeah."

"Come to room three, top floor of the Royal Center Building."

Not "go," but "come." Iason was probably already there and waiting. A Blondy comes all the way here to personally pick up a pet?

It struck Riki as funny. He had the feeling Iason was acting way out of the norm for a Blondy as well. Riki tried cramming his values and common sense into Iason's mold, but the gap between the two irritated him. He was beginning to realize that. But realization wasn't the same as acceptance.

"What about lobby security?"

Riki didn't know why Iason had chosen the Royal Center Building, but any building like it was going to have a security detail.

The passes handed out at Midas immigration control would, according to the access level on the pass, give its bearer free rein. A person without a pass or someone attempting to enter a restricted area would be arrested on the spot.

"Not a problem. Your pet ring number is sufficient."

"The room code?"

"The lock is enabled for iris recognition. Your left eye."

Not wasting time with further chit-chat, Riki confirmed the location of the indicated building on his phone display and headed for it without any hesitation.

The phone was the same compact, unrestricted "smart" model that tourists could use at no additional cost. Voice-guided navigation was included, among other features. But a slum mongrel used to rocketing around the place on his jet bike didn't need all that. A basic map was enough to get him where he needed to be. A slum mongrel who couldn't master the terrain with that much information was going to get his ass handed to him in a fight. Simple survival skills.

Tanagura security was in a different league than Midas's. Entry in each Area was limited to one's ID access level. Riki wouldn't think of driving a capsule car right up to Eos's front gates. But still, the top floor penthouse required a heavy-duty biometric code on top of a general-purpose ID.

It hadn't occurred to Riki that anybody other than Iason would be waiting there. To say that he was surprised was a wild understatement. The people there, judging by their serial numbers, had come straight off the block from the Pet Auction. A quick head count came to ten.

What the hell is going on?

Riki stared without intending to. He could almost believe he'd walked into the wrong room, but that was impossible. It was easier to believe that somebody with bad taste was playing a bad joke on him.

Right then, one of the ten separated himself from the group and briskly walked up to him. "Hey, you, I'm thirsty," he stated presumptuously. "Get me something to drink."

The boy had pale blue eyes and blond hair. The fact that his voice hadn't yet broken suggested to Riki an age of around ten. Though the kid was young, he was already showing with his arrogance all the signs of the typical pet.

Shameless and stupid. A genetic freak whose primary virtue was his inability to do anything beyond what was programmed into him. "Eliphas" was engraved on the black tag of his collar, the name of the black-haired administrator of Tanagura for whom he was reserved. The pet's serial number would likely be found on the reverse.

A pet's "name" was usually announced at his coming-out party. Up to that point, he was referred to by the breeding facility's manufacturing serial number. According to the furniture, from the first time Riki appeared in Eos, he was the only pet ever called by his name consistently.

Outside the norm, to put it bluntly. Back then, Riki thought Daryl was giving him a hard time about being a slum mongrel. When he found out from Katze that all the furniture in Eos was supplied by Guardian, he realized Daryl's reaction was nothing more than an inferiority complex.

Pets put on the auction block were generally shown off in highly revealing clothing, male and female. The frilly and see-through garments only covered their privates. Among them, the fact that Riki was wearing a jacket long enough to cover his butt was enough to identify him as an adult, a servant at their beck and call.

The drinking water on the table and the hors d'oeuvres had already been consumed, the glasses scattered about.

What to do—

Riki stared into the round orb of the security camera attached to the center of the ceiling. One way or another, somebody was watching in another room.

What to do?

Was there some other ulterior motive for his being called here? Either way, what or who was being tested? Or was he overthinking everything?

Riki hesitated. He thought of just making the trip back to Eos. What the hell was Iason up to? He couldn't read the man. What does he want with me? To see how he'd settle a situation sprung on him without any warning? God, don't tell me he's settling accounts with this bunch of kids?

Riki couldn't repress a brazen grin as the wildly improbable thought struck him. Now that'd be one helluva practical joke.

What was this Eos that awaited them after this? If asked to talk about the bad situation there, Riki could tell all at any time. He focused those thoughts into his eyes as he stared into the camera.

No reaction. Maybe it's just an ornament.

The Eliphas pet kicked Riki in the shins. "Hey, didn't you hear me?" He narrowed his eyes and glared at him.

Those skinny little legs couldn't do much damage. Eye for an eye, tooth for a tooth, down to the muscle and bone. That iron law was etched on the hearts of every slum mongrel—a conditioned response. This little punk-ass kid—

Riki focused his attention and returned the look. The Eliphas pet quailed and turned away, retreating half a step. Loser, Riki clucked to himself. The kid had backed down without raising a finger. It wasn't his job to teach the brat good manners or what he didn't want to know. Riki wasn't in the mood to cause a lot of trouble on his return trip.

He took off his jacket and hung it on an empty chair. He walked over to the island bar in the middle of the room, made a selection from the dispenser, filled a glass with juice, and set it on the table. In addition to the Eliphas pet, the other pets shuffled over.

"I want one of those, too."

"Chamomile for me."

"I'll be good with cherry."

"Mineral water's fine."

The voices of the kids grew shrill as they scrambled to be first in line. Riki was momentarily too surprised to respond. Finally he turned to the pets and roared, "Shut the fuck up!"

The stunned rabble fell quiet. They'd probably never been yelled at before in their lives. He gave them all a long, penetrating look, licked his lips, and said, "We're doing this in order, one by one. Everybody who wants a drink, line up!" He motioned with a jerk of his chin. No, it wasn't his calling in life to be a babysitter. But keenly aware of the inherent contradiction, he still did what he did.

At the same time, in the monitoring room, Orphe Zavi, a Blondy and the chief operations officer of Eos, sank back on the sofa and smiled elegantly.

"What a fascinating creature your pet is," he observed. "For good or ill, you have splendidly betrayed all our expectations."

He raked his supple fingers through his luxuriant golden hair. The gesture was at once beautiful, completely expected from such a beauty.

But the impression that Iason left, with both his visage and inner substance, was that of a cold steel blade. An "ice noble," he was called. In contrast, as one of the lustrous elite, Orphe was an "elegant noble."

"Because that slum mongrel is a cut above the rest," Iason countered just as casually. His attention focused on the screen where Riki was silently serving the nameless pets, who for now were only known by the serial numbers.

He hadn't expected Riki to so demurely stand there and play the part of a house servant. Though it could be that he had anticipated this monitoring and was playing against type on purpose.

Iason couldn't hide a smile of ironic glee. When it comes to enhancing maturity, time is the true wonder drug. Taking Riki off the leash and giving him a breather back in the slums had been worth it. At least to Iason.

"Handing over the reins, in other words?" Orphe asked, a casual inquiry with a barbed edge.

"I only want to avoid any unnecessary complications," Iason said, lightly turning it aside.

"After taking advantage of all the loopholes in the pet laws and letting a pet run free in the slums, how can you pretend all that craftiness was for any other purpose? Thanks to you, what we thought was perfect is now shown to be run through with flaws."

Despite the gentleness of Orphe's tone of voice, something quite the opposite clearly lurked beneath. In addition to the disposition of Pet Law, the "Daryl incident," which had resulted in Riki running off, had exposed the problems with Eos security.

It'd been a painful black mark on Orphe's record. But Iason restrained himself from drawing the obvious connection.

"Taking him back to Eos won't be a problem, correct?" Iason asked.

Iason needed to be sure. He couldn't ignore the administrative control Orphe had over Eos. If Orphe said no, Iason would have to switch gears and choose a different tack.

"If I say no, you'll find another way in. Besides—" Orphe paused, and the corners of his lips turned up slightly. "I must confess that I am very curious to find out what your pet will do next."

Iason had the feeling that Orphe wasn't being entirely facetious. Throwing a wolf in with all those obedient sheep could turn things upside down.

Riki had been reared as a pet for three years in Eos. Like a chemical reaction, a wide variety of situations had provoked abnormal changes in the emotional responses of the pets. More than Iason had expected.

At the same time, the disturbed equilibrium shook the staid complacency of the ruling elite, who had become accustomed to the status quo. In a sense, Riki was a catalyst, triggering a new metamorphosis.

Stale, ordinary thinking didn't lead to novel revelations. Without the shock of the new, the synapses even in a specialized brain deteriorated. The elites were only beginning to become aware of the extent to which their "common sense" had stink into the mire of routine and ordinary expectations. Not only the rote learning of knowledge, but their emotional responses as well.

Keeping the disparaged slum mongrels at arm's length had kept these descendants of Midas free of any kind of controls or imprinting. Those categorized as "mongrels" had specialized in their own way. Or maybe Riki was a fluke himself.

Iason didn't think that the other Blondies were asking the same questions he'd once asked himself. They didn't have to. Different approaches yielded different answers, and that was fine with him.

Simply thinking about it was worth the value of the contradictions that would arise. Whatever Orphe's objectives, an interest and curiosity in Riki were not necessarily irrelevant.

"That wouldn't be because you think he's looking to cause trouble, would it?" Iason asked. He may have been biased, but he wasn't imagining things. Riki brushed aside the flying sparks as if it were his natural right to do so.

Though seeing things from Riki's perspective, the label of "troublemaker" was completely unearned. As a slum mongrel, he considered it his natural right to pay back anybody.

Riki didn't watch his tongue or care about whose feet he stepped on. But there wasn't much point in debating the inability of the idiot pets to learn their lessons in the face of Riki's stubborn and incorrigible sense of payback. It was an extreme kind of physical bonding. Of course, things could get dicey if that behavior ever produced real harm.

"I can't believe you'd ask such a question, not after introducing into Eos a mongrel whose very existence epitomizes a lack of common sense. Do I catch a hint of prevarication?" Orphe's tone of voice was as nonchalant as always.

"Perhaps I'm fed up with trophies that do nothing but stand there and look beautiful."

"So you'll have a slum mongrel instead?"

"A little too lively for your tastes?"

"A little." Orphe hadn't made any attempts at humor thus far, and so was probably indicating his actual feelings on the subject. "In any case, as long as your pet keeps his true nature under wraps and doesn't go around intimidating everybody, I suppose we can go about our duties like normal."

"Changing the subject, do you suppose I could take custody of it now?"

"After the customary medical checkup. We don't want any slum diseases getting brought into Eos."

Compared to the feral children raised in the contaminated Petri dish of the slums, the sterile environment in which the pet gametes were incubated produced a much more brittle product. At the auctions, that brittleness aroused in the pets a desire to be sheltered and protected, which in turn increased their value.

Beautiful and lovable. Unsullied sex dolls that didn't even have names, that would not shrink from anything as long as the patronage of their owners was secure. How they were trained and for what ends was up to the buyer.

The watchwords of the Pet Auctions were "purity" and "status." A human pet wasn't a mere slave, but a symbol of what only wealth and influence could obtain. Naturally, as sex dolls, they enjoyed no rights and didn't last long. This reality remained undisturbed, especially in Eos. Eventually, they were sold off in Midas. That was all a pet's fate came down to.

"And he'll need a leash. As penalty for an eighteen-month no-show, it's got to be on a leash for at least a month," Orphe said.

"He's going on probation, then?"

"Not in so many words. Simply confining him to quarters after his little walkabout wouldn't constitute penalty."

"You want him as a visible example to others."

"Exactly. Take it out for walks once a day, and don't rush it."

To sum up, for a month, Riki would have to show his face around, above and beyond the customary newcomer routines. Orphe called it a "penalty," and however slight the gesture was in real terms, Iason couldn't help but feel in it the slight stab of revenge.

"Understood."

"Its pet code as well will be changed and reissued. Consequently, it'll have to attend a coming-out party. Dressed properly, of course."

In point of fact, the dress for a coming-out party was really the debut of the pet ring. Normally, a pet ring was an article of jewelry, such as an earring or bracelet, and the various designs on display were part of the competition for the attention of the attendees.

At the previous coming-out party, Riki hadn't sported a pet ring like the others. Quite apart from those ostentatious baubles, his was a custom-made article that doubled as a training device. Processing the order took some time.

The pet ring Riki wore thereafter was a D-type cock ring. Even Orphe was taken aback by this breaking with convention and going with a hidden pet ring. While it had practical training uses, it could only be seen up close at a sex soiree or mating party.

There were as many owners fired up about the possibilities as there were pets turned off by the thought of getting intimate with a slum mongrel, and Iason received a flood of invites. But he hadn't sent Riki to a single sex soiree. Iason kept Riki to himself, and fucked him himself. That triggered an even bigger sensation and a bigger scandal.

"Dressed properly?" Iason asked.

"Yes. I hope to see something more fashionable than that off-the-rack look from last time."

Off-the-rack. To sum up: Don't cause trouble and play your part.

And even there, by emphasizing dress, Orphe was making his point clear. No pet existed in Eos past the age of twenty. One coming back into the fold was an additional violation of the rules. Iason needed to be prepared to make a public example of him.

"Understood," Iason said with a great show of deliberation. He came slowly to his feet. "I'll make sure everything is well taken care of."