When he was born, there was an unusual air about him.

Indeed, everyone who heard of his birth seemed to agree; he was born to be something. That something was distant and undefined, but even the young man s name suggested that he was going to be outstanding. Remarkable, even. Chadwick Clinton Gilmour held lofty expectations from his beginning. During his early infancy he bore a fine mane of golden hair, and his piercing blue eyes drank up his surroundings. He began walking earlier than most, just shy of eight months when he took his first steps. He never fell, never tripped or stumbled. He had confidence, and he walked with shoulders squared, as if he were quite aware how advanced he was. His mother called him Chad, never Chadwick, and lavished praise upon him. Recognition stirred powerful feelings within Chad. He fell in love with those feelings immediately. As he grew, he cultivated adulation. By his fifth year, Chad was a prodigy. He was clearly gifted in all aspects of academia. He knew how to command the attention of his observers, mostly on the basis of being the only five year old the adults had ever met who could hold an adult conversation, replete with probing questions and ironic musings. Chad delighted in seeing the raised eyebrows his talents earned him. And his mother! She was perhaps the only person who held a higher opinion of Chad than he did of himself. She and Chad s father were from humble beginnings. Unfortunately for both her and Chad, the father had vanished at the first whispers pregnancy. His correspondence had been, shall we say, infrequent. As a result, her pregnancy had been fraught with fears of the future. A network of friends and acquaintances cared for her near the end of her incubation period, as she had no family to support her. Chad s mother was well-liked, despite being shy and withdrawn. She birthed Chad with surprising ease. One of her friends had trained as a nurse, which made home delivery infinitely safer.