[ Andy wouldn't know what else to call herself, if not human. Maybe that's wishful thinking — maybe that's just her clinging to some kind of tether, some scrap of humanity that keeps her from losing herself to the long, long years. She doesn't know what still makes her human, only that she thinks she is. Feels that she is. Hopes. But there's no other human she knows or has ever known who has lived as long as she has. Even the others like her — so-called immortals — her boys back home aren't even half her age combined.

But then again, there's no one to tell her what she can or can't be. So human it is, for now. ]

There have been others like me. I've watched them go. There's never anything special about it. [ There's something distant in her voice when she says that. ] The centuries of being invincible don't matter then. One day, it just stops. There's no reason. No warning. It just happens. Could be a bullet, or a blade. But the power abandons you, and you fucking die in the blood and dirt, just like everyone else. Eventually, it'll be my turn too.

[ Finally, she glances over at Mort. Truthfully, she's not entirely sure why she's telling him all this — a virtual stranger. She hasn't told anyone else. Even the people closest to her. Not like this. ]

I don't even know why. Didn't know I'd live like this until the first time someone tried to kill me. If there's some greater power or some fucking curse behind it all, I haven't figured it out for almost seven thousand years.