N=1

 Adrian was used to a lot of things on his "shambulance"/"Uber for hospital" shift, but the girl who rode in his car and then woke the whole fuck up was not what he was looking to deal with. The ones who just got carried in and stayed dead were haunting, sad, tragic, all that, but the one who was fucking not actually supposed to be alive right the fuck now, but was going to go about breathing and making requests was a whole other thing, one there was no protocol in the old manual for. 

"You'll want to stop me off at my house; we don't need a doctor." 

"Ma'am, we're en route to Cedars--"

"Is this an Amblix? What's your badge?"

He was driving for Amblix, and she was peering through the windows and could DEF see his badge. 

"Amblix is one of mine. The luck. 514 Mockingbird..."

"You had half your innards outside of you!" Adrian exclaimed, a bit alarmed.

"Well, you must have tucked them in since everything seems properly in place NOW, thanks! Things aren't so great when they have to settle on their own. Good job. But I can't be in a hospital, and by now you ought to have figured out why."

He thought about that. Her alive with no business being. And if "Amblix" was one of hers...

Shit--Genevieve Fowler? 

She looked spry for a person with a good part of guts outside of her minutes ago, and fairly normal for someone who Adrian took to not be a real person because there was no reason for her to be--just a corporate avatar. Because if she was real? 

"Don't gape at me."

"Sorry." She was shedding her clothes. It wasn't sexual, and it wasn't not. What she had was a body preserved in about her 20's, and she was filthy with her own blood, and she seemed to have locked down the premises and was unconcerned with what he was seeing because she disregarded his entire existence. After seeing her dead and basically eviscerated, what was naked?  And after being her and him being in her house--um, what? 

She emerged from a nanoshower after ten minutes, and had thrown on a modest silk peignoir "I guess sometimes regular people need to know what I am--and I don't want to tie up loose ends the old-fashioned way."

"Well" Adrian couldn't fathom a thing to say beyond "Well: and let her do the talking. He did not want to get tied up in any kind of old-fashioned way. 

He was at all loose ends, himself.

"The 90's, right? Working on the human genome. Before MRNA and CRISPR. I had one of those ideas that you shouldn't have, that basically only made sense with my genes...." 

None of it made complete sense, the long-lived cockatoo, the wonder rat, the idea that she understood how to "unfuck her telomeres". 

"Anyway, I am Frankenstein and her monster," she finished. "Which is a whole lot. My music isn't even on the oldies stations anymore. But I guess I can give you a promotion to not say anything?  It's not a big club, but it's cozy. "

"You, what? Cracked immortality?"

"Yes and no. I mean, some of my best friends are immortal. But like, what I did SO FAR only worked exactly one time. Genevieve Fowler--N=1. Gen=1. You'll have fun working for me, I mean, if you don't die trying."

"Well--what's the pay like?"