"When me and Solvei make our wishes and get our magic powers we will no longer get old and die. We will however need despair monster byproduct to live. And we don't get wings. Unless we wish for them, I guess, but I'm sure I can think of something better."
"And our pointy-eared alt's husband was apparently immortal, because somehow a genetic engineering project from more than a thousand years prior to my own managed what my designers couldn't, and I have a sample from him to try to reverse-engineer."
"But look," says Ashras, "why does our kind of human sometimes sprout wings and become immortal, and none of your respective species do? I mean, surely no one here is opposed to finding this out."
"People can be opposed to some pretty strange things," says Milo.
"It's not unheard-of, but yeah, it gets a lot of play in the Kevarsin household," says Inlaith. "And doubly appropriate in this particular case because the end goal is getting everyone else their wings too."
"Excuse me?" says an incredulous voice from the door. It appears to belong to a Miles-lookalike of a new and somewhat disturbing variety: he's wearing jeans and a plain black T-shirt, and his arms, face, and hands are covered in scars of varying prominence and nastiness. Some of them - especially the worst ones, and especially the ones on his face - are fading at a gradual but visible rate.
A Miles.
"Hello, another Miles. This is an interdimensional bar and it thinks you are very fashionable today. Here are five or six of you, two or three of a sibling you may or may not have, one of another sibling you may or may not have, three of a cousin you may or may not have, and two of me, who you don't seem to recognize. Have a nametag." She offers him a nametag.
"Most recent set of arrivals before you has a science project they wanna do? Or at least their you wants to do? How is this the sticking point, have you already met a dozen of yourself?"
"I just want to register that I'd rather not sprout wings it sounds awkward and cosmetically troubling."
Mark and Inlaith exchange a glance. "That's not confusion, that's fear," says Mark as spokesMark. "Why is science frightening on a level sufficient to override the many other questions I'm sure you have?"
"Oh, I don't know," says the new Miles sarcastically, "how about because it gets people fucking killed?"
"This has to be a world thing," asserts Linya. "Please elaborate on how science gets people killed. We are genuinely unfamiliar except in ways which could not produce this reaction."
"I realize the conversation has moved on, but for the record, the kind of wings I'm talking about can be dematerialized and rematerialized at will, you're not stuck with them permanently," says Ashras.
"What the fuck? Unless it's science-project-related, in which case, please keep your death wish and its associated topics to yourself?" says the new Miles.
"Not that this doesn't sound better than having to have them all the time, because it does, but I don't really want to grow wings even to begin with, I don't need to identify with my firebird alt in quite that way."
"Okay - new Miles, please fill out your nametag - this does not happen in any other worlds we have met, and we have met a lot of worlds today. By being nosy about the habits and intricacies of the world around us we have tended to learn what they are, and they continue to exist quite invariantly, although they may differ world to world in some ways, allowing people to exploit them. Although there are senses in which science kills people by, for example, discovering that one of the laws of physics is 'if you do that, it will explode', or by inventing weapons, nothing like you are describing is a feature of any worlds we are from."
He writes Milan Kosorin on the nametag. "After the names on all your nametags, are those worlds?"
"Yep. You can name your own. Evil Death World has a nice ring to it."
"I think I'd prefer something less negative if I have to walk around with it written on me," he says, and thinks for a moment, and writes down Hubris. Then he attaches the nametag to his shirt and passes the marker back.