Peaksville was just someplace. Someplace away from the world. It was wherever it had been since that day three years ago when Anthony
had crept from her womb and old Doc Bates—God rest him—had screamed and dropped him and tried to kill him, and Anthony had whined and done the thing
. He had taken the village someplace
. Or had destroyed the world
and left only the village, nobody knew which.
It did no good to wonder about it. Nothing at all did any good except to live as they must live. Must always, always live, if Anthony would let them
His psychokinetic potential
was beyond control, as too his mental domination
. As such, none could stop him escaping when he chose. He was the boy who could levitate before he could crawl.
—A discussion of Pierre Jr, The Museum Of Unnatural History, by David M Henley
The last links with Earth were gone, resolved back into their component atoms. But the child
scarcely noticed, as he adjusted himself to the comfortable glow of his new environment. He still needed, for a little while, this shell of matter as the focus of his powers. His indestructible body was his mind's present image of itself, and for all his powers, he knew that he was still a baby. So he would remain until he had decided on a new form
, or had passed beyond the necessities of matter