"Where's the fire?"

"Miles there is an eight year old girl with a speech impediment and wings sitting in my apartment eating all my chocolate help."

"Help. I heard her yelling and there were some - some people, hitting her, and I didn't see the wings until I hauled them off her - she doesn't have a scratch - and so I bundled her into my car and took her home - help me."

"...I will be there as soon as humanly possible," says Miles.

"Be faster than that," begs Ivan, and he ends the call.

Miles hastens to Ivan's apartment, not quite egregiously violating any traffic regulations on the way.

When he gets there, Ivan flings the door open, gestures dramatically at the winged child sitting on his sofa with a candy bar, and makes a completely helpless face.

"Hi. You his cousin who knowing how to things?"

"That's a pretty accurate description of me, yes. My name's Miles; what's yours?"

"Pen-in-nah. Pen."

"Nice to meet you. How'd you end up on Barrayar?"

"Door break. Supposed going home but go place in city here instead. No Jane."

"...Could you explain that a little more for me? Which door broke?"

"The door, for bar, nice bar, which going everywhere! Supposed going home. Broke."

"...I see," says Miles. "So - sorry, let me check if I have this right - there's a bar, and the bar has a door, and the door goes lots of places, and it was supposed to take you home but instead it took you to where my cousin Ivan found you, and you don't know why?"

"Took me block away and start walking, checking for see if is Jane - no Jane, also no one Mommy no one Daddy no sisters no anyone. Then all those men get very angry! But am safe. I hit them," she adds, as though daring him to chide her for hitting back.

"She got them good, too, I wouldn't be surprised if the one fellow had a broken orbit."

"Pretty reasonable of you, under the circumstances," says Miles. "Who or what is Jane?"

"Jane a sort of sisteroid only not at all, and she gems but I not having one, and she computers, all of them, especially spaceship computer Jovah, but she break for a long time, now she working again it only door that break, she just not here."

"Where are you from, originally? What planet?"

"Samaria."

"I don't think I've heard of that one."

"Is not here. World also name Samaria."

"Well," he says, "that would explain why I haven't heard of it. That's... troublesome. If it were only a matter of getting you back to the right planet, it would hardly be any trouble at all. I'm not sure where to start when it's a matter of getting you back to the right - universe? Do I have that right?"

"If she was here, what would she do?"

"She put a Mommy, probably my one maybe a different one, at Janepoint, and Mommy teleport to me and bring home."

"Am angel. Most Samarians not though. Daddy mortal."

"And angels have wings? Do they work for flying with?"

"'Course," says Pen scornfully. "Are for flying."

"Well," says Miles. "There's not much opportunity for a little girl with wings to fly around here - crowded city, controlled airspace - but my family happens to have a house by a very nice lake that I think is pretty good for flying. Want to go there and see what you think of it?"

"Oh thank God," Ivan mutters.

"Okay," shrugs Pen.

"C'mon, then, I have a car waiting outside."

"Do I have to be in a coat again?"

"I had her bundled up in my jacket," Ivan explains.

"That... might be a good idea," says Miles. "But if you're very unhappy about the coat, we can skip it."

"Why a coat?"

"There are a lot of people on Barrayar who get very upset about people who are strange-looking," says Miles. "I'm short and a little bit weird, and if I go walking in the wrong places, people will try to bother me like they were bothering you before Ivan showed up. Having wings is a lot stranger than being short, so more people get upset about it. If you hide the wings, people won't notice them to get upset about."

"...This a no magic place?" wonders Pen.

"Yes," says Miles.

"Angels not magic," Pen explains, "but, angels look magic. So coat? Because no wishes, can't invisible."

"Yeah."

"Okay fine."

"Ivan, can we borrow your jacket again?"

"Yeah 'course."

Miles picks it up from the arm of the couch and gives it to Pen.

Pen stands up, scrunches her wings close to herself, and mostly manages to hide them in Ivan's coat.

"No, what is?"

"Have you ever been somewhere with very low gravity?" he wonders, leading her through the mazelike house toward the lift tube.

"The gravity Jovah have is fake?" she offers.

"Well, the gravity on Barrayar is real, but lift tubes have a fake lack of gravity. So people who can't ordinarily fly can go up and down them very easily."

"Oh. Okay."

"When I was your age I thought they were tremendous fun, but I don't know if you'll agree."

"Probably not so good as flying really."

Pen fearlessly steps in, hits the wall with a wing trying to course-correct but seems unharmed, and pops out at the top after him.

Pen is not sure how to sit in this seat at all, actually. "Um."

"That okay." Sit.

Meh. There's no wind.

Is too. They just can't feel it in here. It's visible whenever they traverse a wisp of cloud, though - water vapour streaming over the canopy.

She is very talented, and knows quite a lot of songs by heart, the overwhelming majority of which are not in English. Or any recognizable language at all.

Pen hops out of the lightflyer and takes off to stretch her wings.

She seems to be staying over the lake. Soaring around in circles, doing little tricks.

Eventually she comes in for a landing nearby. "Nice lake."

"Thank you. It's my favourite."

There... is indeed a rock embedded in her forearm. He's not sure what to think of it. The bracelets are by comparison pretty mundane.

"Checking for more people," she mentions. "Not finding any ones of party people yet but maybe not remember them all, so many. Big space plant."

"Space plant? What sort of plant, besides the space kind?"

"A one Mommy in can't pronounce world do a party for when Jane come back and she get married! My Mommy do the marrying them. And party all in a plant she make. In space."

"...How many of your mother are there?"

"Ummmm." Pen starts counting on her fingers and runs out. "Paper?"

"Which one of these was recently married in a space plant?"

Pen taps "elf one". "Her ones Daddies are in two parts! One tall red one with wings but not angel wings. One a dragon."

"How'd they manage that?"

Shrug. "Magic I guess."

"Sounds like a reasonable explanation."

"Yeah. Lot of magic for can't pronounce world." She toes her shoes off and wades a little into the lake.

And that seems a reasonable childhood activity. Of course, what does Miles know? Come on, Mother... he hopes she's not too busy to check her messages. This isn't exactly an emergency and he didn't advertise it as such, but it's not a situation he's going to be comfortable handling by himself indefinitely.

She doesn't go in far enough to get even her wingtips wet. "There a lot of daddies too. Maybe more if counting the soul animals. Shell Bell has one soul animal and the boy one has one too and also the owl one who had owl first of everything. But some daddies also, and! And when a one Daddy gets one, it can turn shapes."

"Do they not normally turn shapes?"

"Little kid soul animals do, not usually grown ones."

"Are - ones of your father - unusually childish? Or does it not work that way?"

Giggle. "Dunno. My one Daddy not having any soul animal, and Jane broke for most of me being alive, so only met most party people at space plant party one time!"

"Yeah, she pick up thing or person and put it. Places she see. Mommy bracelet have a gem but not me."

"Which has turned out to be awfully inconvenient for you."

"Yeah." She sighs, then says philosophically, "But, Jane break because putting her one Mommy or maybe gems or both I dunno in the bad Jane breaking world. This one not magic, but door not going home dunno how it pick where going!"

"What do you know about how the door works? Maybe we can figure it out."

"Well, for Shell Bell is special. But usually, it eat a regular door. Like, door to room, something - poof, now goes Milliways. Go in, go out back where coming from! Jane do time too and she have part in back yard of bar, but, without Jane do time, time only go if door open. So stay longest while come out still whenever. Shell Bell stayed weeks sometimes when she little to find stuff for bring home. Now she have enchantress aura and can make door eat any door she want, and when going out again can go other place. Home or Downside or anyplace. Jarvises can make door in them whenever wanting to also, if practice."

"Hmm. When it eats a door, does it look and work just the same as the door it ate? If it ate, oh, the door to my house," he waves thereat, "it'd open and close just the same way?"

"Yeah. Some people can make a door be even if not Shell Bell but not Shell Bell people can't every time doing it for sure. Doors like Elspeth but not always. And the door is alike itself."

"Them and friends and cousinoids and stuff."

"Is it possible for someone to open the door and let someone else through into their own world who came from a different one?"

"Yes."

"Oh maybe! Somebody from here. Or with a Shell Bell kinda magic."

"Yeah. Mommies probably find them if someplace where a Jane, but if someplace else maybe not!"

"Yeah. Hmm. And there's no good way to get a door to - Milliways, is that what the place is called? - on purpose from the outside, it sounds like."

"No. Can try open lots of doors but no Jarvis no Shell Bell can't sure about finding."

"Not much," she sighs. [There's this] "and being safe and that all things. Not old enough for have wishes. Blarg."

"Is brainphone."

"I... see. How does it work? Can you talk to just anyone with it?"

"If knowing who talk to, mm-hm. I can put people, can't put putting people though."

"So - you 'put' me, just now, but that only lets me talk to you, since we're the only two people around with this particular magic?"

"Yeah."

"If I told you to put, say, my mother, could you do that, or would you have to meet her first?"

"I dunno, maybe. Probably. Should trying?"

[Hello?]

[Mother? I have an interdimensional winged eight-year-old with magical telepathic comms at Vorkosigan Surleau. Please advise.]

[...Well,] she says to Miles. [That's... certainly something.]

Pen, meanwhile, wades out of the lake, contemplates the muddiness on her feet, and sits, wings splayed out behind her.

[The "please advise" was not facetious,] he adds.

[No, no, of course not,] she says. [I'll... be there in an hour.]

"I asked my mother to come and visit, and she says she'll be here in an hour," he says for Pen's benefit.

"'Kay. Why?"

"Well, she might be able to help me figure out how to find your family."

"How?"

"I'm not sure yet. That's part of why I'm asking Mother to help."

"No magic, nobody who doors like, might just need waiting for them find me."

"Well, what if we asked everyone we know whether they've heard of this bar? If we asked enough people, one of them might be somebody the door likes, and just not have said anything to us yet because they didn't think we'd believe them about the magic bar."

"Oh, that make sense."

"I'll see what she thinks of it when she gets here."

Nod nod.

"Don't think so."

"Want to play some and see if you like them or not?"

"Okay. Are like computer games?"

"Probably quite a bit like."

"Samaria mostly not have, but, spaceship have some computer," she explains, picking up her shoes. "So play sometimes, not too much, people not supposed noticing gone. Keziah friend like computers much."

Pen hums idly while she follows him and peers at the architecture.

Pen even recognizes some of them! She identifies some things she would voluntarily eat.

Miles is by no stretch a cook, but he can warm up things that need warming and introduce food items to dishes and locate cutlery. He does that.

And Pen eats with a very healthy small-angel appetite.

Goodness.

"Mother!" Thank God. "So, supposing your only known point of entry into the multiverse was a mysterious bar named Milliways with a habit of capriciously usurping arbitrary doors, and supposing you had someone in another universe you urgently wanted to talk to, what would you do?"

"Ask Simon if he knows anything," is her immediate response.

"Yeah, that's about what I was thinking."

"Who he?"

"My boss. He has a perfect memory and he knows a lot of nosy people who might've heard rumours about someplace like Milliways if there were rumours to be had."

"Okay. I brainphone?"

"I think I'll call him first, in case he's busy. Shouldn't take long."

"'Kay."

Off goes Miles. Miles calls Simon.

Miles blinks. "What? What'd I do?"

"I have never before seen you with quite that expression on your face. Please, tell me the scope of the incipient disaster so I can decide whether to retire on the spot."

"...Possible source of instantaneous interstellar person-to-person communication," he says. "In the form of, um. I fully acknowledge how crazy this is going to sound. An eight-year-old girl with functional angel wings, who showed up tracelessly in some nameless street in the capital, where Ivan Vorpatril found her and rescued her from some nasty customers who probably objected to the wings, and claims she got here via the malfunctioning door of a magical multiversal bar called Milliways. Apparently her parents are some kind of interdimensional big shots. I have verified the magical person-to-person communication, though not whether it obeys the speed of light. I can add you to the circuit; it will involve a little girl saying hello in your mind, and then you'll have 'brainphone' access to - well, currently, me and my mother and the interdimensional eight-year-old."

"You're right," he says. "It sounds extremely crazy. Your mother is involved? Let's hear from her, please."

Miles fetches his mother.

"Hello, Simon. Miles is not experiencing bizarre delusions, nor is he playing some kind of elaborate joke."

"...Demonstrate this 'brainphone' phenomenon to me, then."

"What is funny?"

Rather than turn away from the comconsole and yell, Miles answers via brainphone, [Simon is making fun of me.]

[Hee hee.]

"Anyway," says Miles to the comconsole. "I take it you're satisfied that we haven't all gone insane. I... respectfully recommend that you find that bar sooner than later."

"Believe me, I intend to."

Miles nods. Thus ends the call.

"Are you tired?" asks Cordelia of Pen. "Do you want to find a guest room you like?"

"Not so tired. Oh, but need big bed, for wings."

"Logical. Shall we go looking for a big enough bed, then?"

Nod nod.

Pen flops in the big one and spreads out her wings on it.

"Good enough?"

"Mmhm." Pen sits up. "Not sleepy though."

"Well, what would you like to do?"

"Dunno. The holo game was okay, but don't wanna play for always..."

"We have books if you like those. Or music."

"Music's good. I singing, because am angel!"

"Well, let's find out if you like any of our music, then."

"Mmhm. Having sheet music?"

Pen listens attentively. It is rather unlike the music she grew up with, but it has its merits. When it repeats she sings softly along.

There are many varieties of musics! Cordelia's favourites tend to be either orchestral pieces or bubbly pop songs; Miles's taste runs to the melancholy and Barrayaran. Or the quirky and Barrayaran.

Pen firmly prefers vocals. The bubbly pop makes her want to jump around, which kind of interferes with singing along smoothly. Also, while she knows English, and finds French familiar enough to pronounce, she does not know Russian at all.

The jumping around is very cute.

Cordelia listens.

Pen sings that one twice, then repeats the procedure with another song in this album of bubbly pop.

It's delightful to behold.

And it will keep the magic little angel out of trouble until she is sleepy or somebody wants her to add another brainphone person, whichever comes first.

Sleepiness comes first!

And Pen flomps into the nice big bed. She has nothing to change into so she just has to go to sleep in her leathers, oh well. Zzzz.

The next morning, Cordelia provides breakfast, and asks Pen to please put Byerly Vorrutyer on the brainphone.

"How come wanting so many people to brainphone?" she wonders.

"We want to find out whether the brainphone works well with people who are very far away, so we thought of someone we know who is very far away right now. If it does work well with people who are very far away, then we can use it to talk to people on other planets easily, instead of having to send them a letter and wait a week for them to get it and another week for them to send one back. And that would be very nice."

"It works for whatever planets, as fast as ansible," Pen asserts.

"Then that will be very convenient for us, and a nice surprise for Byerly."

"How many people you wanting me put?" says Pen. "Is no magic world. Maybe shouldn't put too many."

"Only one more right now, and probably only a few more after that," she says. "Because we aren't sure yet what the best way is to tell people about magic without upsetting them, so we're keeping it a secret for now, until we figure that out. Which might take a long time."

"Yeah, is hard. My world still no magic most place."

Nod. "We'll think about it, and maybe we'll come up with some very clever ideas, but maybe we won't."

"Yeah." Pen noms breakfast, apparently having forgotten that she was supposed to put somebody.

"Oh, yeah. Byerly who again?"

"Byerly Vorrutyer."

[...Hi?] says Byerly, and then a few seconds later and sounding much less confused he adds, [Thanks.]

[You're welcome!]

"Someone. Do you need to go by?"

"No. Is this someone by any chance a lost little girl?"

"Yeah. She's currently staying with my mother on my home planet, safe and sound." ('Something happened to Pen' was also on the list of acceptable emergencies.)

"Well, that's convenient. If you wouldn't mind holding the door for me I'll fetch her home to her family?"

"You're welcome," says Miles. "I understand if this isn't the best time, but now that I have access to an adult member of this mysterious interdimensional society of powerful people, I have... a lot of questions."

"Sure," says Shell Bell, stepping back into Milliways. "Hit me."

"How does this business with multiple versions of the same people work, exactly...?"

"We're not actually sure! I mean, we know what happens, but not why. But we - I'm a Bell, so's Pen's mother - cooperate with ourselves really well, so we formed a network to share stuff. We have the same personality and some strange coincidences in circumstance and we look the same. Except for Cam, who is a boy."

"I wonder if I have any of these duplicates," he muses. "How would I go about getting in touch with them?"

"You don't look familiar, but I can call Glass in to check to see if you're a new face of somebody we've met. If you're not, you can leave notes with Bar, or just loiter indefinitely in Milliways, but there's no guarantee this'll get you in touch in a reasonable time frame."

"Hm," he says. "If it's not too much trouble, I would like to know."

"Sure."

Another one in a different outfit complete with witch hat appears and inspects Miles. "New," she says. "Templatey, though. That's at least three people's worth of templatey, probably more. Jane, sweep please?"

[One in Chronicle,] reports Jane.

"'Sweep'...?"

"Jane just went through all the worlds she's got nodes in and tried sending a blank brainphone message to the local instance of you, in case there was one, and she found one in my world. Who I haven't met yet."

"Interesting," he says. "I would definitely appreciate an introduction, but if he's really one of me, he may be... unusually likely to be in the middle of something that shouldn't be interrupted."

"Should not be teleported into, should not be brainphoned during, or should not be looked at?"

"Should not be teleported into, should not be brainphoned during..." He considers. "I don't think I'd mind if another version of me had a look at me to see if I was busy. I don't yet have enough data to know how well that generalizes."

"Probably pretty well. Here, have thirty seconds of superpower, don't use it within Milliways or you'll get a headache." And she gets up and holds the door for him.

"Why thank you," he says, and he leans through the door and looks for himself.

About seventeen. In a forest. Falling off a startled horse.

Miles sucks in a breath and winces sharply. "Oh, ouch. He doesn't seem to be doing anything critical, but I'd give him a minute anyway, he just broke his arm. And maybe some ribs."

"I could, you know, fix that," says Glass.

"For which I'm sure he'll be very grateful. In a minute. I speak from long experience. The first thirty seconds after a broken bone are not a time to try to talk to me even if you lead with very good painkillers."

Shrug. "Okay. Any other tips on introducing myself? He's probably heard of me, I'm a princess."

"I don't know enough about your world to have specific suggestions. But he should be getting more amenable to conversation right about now."

[Glass wants to know what your name is.]

"Miles."

Glass laughs. "I'm not trying to trick you. I'm Princess Bella of the Enchanted Forest - welcome, by the way - and I've just met an alternate universe duplicate of you who you might want to meet with fewer broken bones."

"Oh. Well, in that case, sure. I was getting tired of them already," he says with a wry grin. "Prince Milo of Raxwell, very pleased to meet you."

She fixes his bones. "Likewise. I can put your horse in our stable and bring you to meet Miles?"

"An enticing prospect. But, um, my cousin might be worried whenever he stops talking to that girl," Milo waves vaguely behind him, "and tries to catch up with me..."

"I could go notify him. Assuming he's only talking to her."

"They were only talking when I left, but circumstances may have changed since."

"Could leave your horse here with a note. 'Princess Bella has borrowed your cousin, do not be alarmed'."

"Hullo," Bella says politely to the cat, as she reaches into her sleeve for paper and writes a note to attach to Milo's horse's saddle. Tweaking a forest thread will suffice to keep the horse in one place. "Anything else before I whisk us away?"

The cat meows a polite greeting back. Milo shakes his head.

"Okay, I'm sorry to make this my first question, but - what's your excuse?" asks Miles, gesturing to Milo's recently broken ribs.

"Cursed by a wicked fairy. Why, do you have the same problem? What's yours?"

"Yeah. It's a long story, but 'prenatal poisoning' about covers it."

"She looks a little templatey but not one we've met before. We can sweep for more of her. ...Uh, but, I can tell you aren't a witch...?"

Miles is still a little bit stuck on the 'talking cat' aspect of this development, even if the cat is not quite exactly talking.

"I'm glad nobody but me understands my cat, but that's more of a 'my cat' thing. Anyway. Jane, any more of her?"

[None where I've got nodes.]

"Do you have one in my world? That being a logical place to look for more of someone who's close with Milo, I'd think. Although I'm not at all sure how the part where she's a cat factors into it."

"Cats are people in Chronicle. And Syntropy, but a whole lot of things are people in Syntropy. They do not have this property in other worlds, except the ones from Alethia who are not really cats."

"I didn't drop a gem in your world. If you can suggest someplace that will remain undisturbed and advise us on whether it's safe for Jane to eat your computer network, I can do that now."

"...I would strongly prefer that Jane not eat our computer network," he says. "The house where Pen was staying should be suitable."

[Why can't I eat your computer network?]

"I'll go put a preliminary node down while you discuss that." Shell Bell's been to the world now; she opens the door to the room Pen was sleeping in and tosses a half-ansible onto the bed, then the other half vanishes out of her hand.

"I'm generally reluctant to agree that people may do things to my planet's computer network without knowing exactly what they entail, first of all," he says. "And duty obliges me to pass the decision on to interested parties such as the Emperor, who is a good friend of mine, and the head of Imperial Security, who is my boss, rather than make the call myself."

[I don't hurt networks. I don't eat computers which are also people, but it doesn't sound like you have those.]

"I'm sure the admin will make you another layer of processors if you ask her nicely, Jane."

[They won't have anything on them.]

"I'm sure Gregor will make time in his schedule to discuss the matter," says Miles. "Although I think it's about two in the morning right now in his time zone, so you'll have to wait a while to ask him."

[People who sleep are so tiresome.]

Giggle.

He smiles.

"And what are the results for his universe?"

[Yeah, there's one of your cat. Plus a Libby and a Kingfisher and a Rayne. Should I call in a Libby and a Kingfisher about that?]

"Probably the Libby, maybe a Kingfisher."

"I wonder what the likelihood is that I know any of these people," says Miles. "Is there a good way to check that without going and pestering them? Many of the people I know are similarly a bad idea to pester."

"Well, we can call in another Libby and a Kingfisher and get them to look in on their alts and see whether they've just broken anything, or whatever. The Rayne we probably don't want to talk to except through his Kingfisher anyway."

"Seems reasonable, I suppose."

"Yeah. Who's not busy, Jane?"

Well?

Libby in Eos currently has downtime!

And Keth in Alethia isn't up to much. Both acquiesce to be brought to Milliways to discuss their new alts.

Whisk!

"Littlest cherub wandered into a new world. It has one of you each in it."

"One of Rayne, too, right?"

"Did I not say that's invariable? I'm sure I said that. Yes, one of Rayne too."

"I wasn't sure I remembered. So am I supposed to go say hi?"

"Optionally after checking that your local alts aren't up to anything it would be poor form to interrupt."

"That does seem worth verifying for mine."

Shell Bell holds the door.

"...Um," says Miles.

Cath makes a quiet comment to Milo, who struggles not to laugh.

"Somebody you know?"

"That is the Empress of Cetaganda," says Miles. "Her name is Lisbet Serise. I would not recommend interrupting her no matter what she's doing."

"...Okay, that makes... the second Empress Libby we've run into and the first one we found definitely needed interrupting, what's this one's story?"

"Of the Cetagandans I've met, she struck me as the most reasonable, practical, and friendly," he says. "I would and have trusted her with my life. But she operates under such a heavy mantle of security at all times that I would expect her first reaction to anyone contacting her unexpectedly through unusual channels would be extreme alarm, and I don't think that's the kind of first impression you'd rather make, even if you clear it up very quickly afterward."

Both Bells glance at the local representative of Libbies.

"Well, she told me I have nice eyes," he offers, smirking.

He shakes his head. "It'd have to be one hell of a disaster. There are humans living on something like two hundred planets."

Shell Bell applauds lightly. "Okay, so - contact her in some conventional manner, or don't, it's probably not urgent. Ripper?"

"I don't actually have whatever fancy superpowers Libby was using to spy on her alt. Mine probably isn't up to anything where it would be that bad if I brainphoned him..."

"Do that or take thirty seconds of pastwatching, up to you."

"Eh, I'll take the thirty seconds of pastwatching just in case."

Pentagon.

"You wanna, I don't know, leave him a note?"

Shrug. "Sure."

"Compose something and we can drop it off."

"Oh well. Miles, you don't recognize the face or anything...?"

Shell Bell leans into the world and forwards a picture of each.

"My home planet and its capital, respectively. I will find him later and tell him all of this exciting news," says Miles.

"Cool. Oh, and we should add your world to Downside in case we want to resurrect anyone from the dead."

"...Is there someone we should resurrect from the dead right now, that looks like it might be a 'there is someone you should resurrect from the dead right now' face?"

"...It'd make a bit of a list," he says, getting the face under control. "Um. Sorry. And most of them would probably... react poorly to all of this exciting news. But there are some people I would very much like resurrected in the near future, yes."

"The exciting news thing is a major bottleneck. You can't have anybody you can't explain or convincingly lie about unless you have a credible case for being able to handle the revelation. I did my own world on the sudden sharp shock model but I had a small, low-tech population. But we can add your world - right, Glass?"

"Oh, yeah, bog-standard there," says Glass. "Not too mean, no competing afterlife or anything. Miles, d'you wanna be immortal? The brand of immortal involves looking like you catch fire and then being restored to perfect health under any circumstance that would normally kill you. It'll fuck with your visible aging, though."