"Doctor..." I say, now standing and looking up and down at the many children's posters that explain the different parts of the body and the ingredients of the blood.
"What is it, darling?" he asks. He always calls me 'darling' or 'love'. Mom thinks it's improper and perverse, but I've liked it ever since a group of Danish scientists visited and I overheard them calling me "the host" and "Number #01-27".
"I was wondering if they've come any closer to figuring out...well, what's inside me. Why the cells are there and not in anybody else." As far as they've told me, I'm the only person in the world with this sort of blood. I still haven't decided whether that makes me special or freakish.
Dr. Seymour rolls his chair across the room to the file cabinets, one that's four drawers tall and reserved just for me. He pulls open the top drawer and withdraws the newest entry. He rolls back towards me, his eyes downcast and quickly reading. He looks up at me and shakes his head.
"I'm afraid nobody's elaborated further than a random mutation," he explains. I sigh hopelessly. It's almost two years down the road, and all anybody's been able to tell me is that I'm "remarkable", "invaluable" or "unique", but never explainable.
"There's no evidence at all of original or derivative heteroclitic cells in your immediate family, nor any parent of the panacean gene in your earliest testable ancestor." I scoff, remembering that Mom wasn't happy when they grave-robbed great-grandfather Neville. "There's a side-note saying that without any match for your paternal genes, we're at a dead end. As you can imagine, the fertility offices aren't being very forthcoming. You have no idea about your father?"
I shake my head. "Mom had me and Sophie with different anonymous donors. I don't know anything about him, just that he didn't mind fathering children he'd never know,"
"I see," he says, closing the file, then looks up at me seriously. "Dana, I hope you don't think that this makes you unnatural in any way. If anything, the way your body has adapted from the heteroclitic cells, you're a stage higher in evolution than the rest of us." I'd heard Dr Vanbrughn say something similar, only when she said it, I felt like a monkey who'd worked out her thumbs before everybody else. It never made me feel better.
"And the people who get my blood? What are they?"
"Your blood doesn't change them biologically. It works through their systems and repairs any damage or malformation depending on the dosage. You know that some of the Institute's clients are on a full cycle of your blood and that essentially heals them, but there's no evidence yet to prove that the disease is gone forever. That's something we have to continue to monitor for...for years to come." His tone is sad as he finishes, and it feels like an abyss has opened up inside me. Years to come, two, twelve, twenty, who knows?
Either way, they're not done with me yet.