At a booth in Milliways sits a woman in her thirties, stirring a cup of tea, watching the stars explode. There is a fat boring-looking lawbook under her elbow, and a barcode across the back of her right hand.
"...Do you mean is that the extent of my powers or do I do anything with my life besides powers, because the answer to both of those questions as I have phrased them is yes. As far as I know, anyway."
"Fair enough. Although what counts as science fiction depends heavily on things like when you are and where you stand relative to baseline early-twenty-first-century Earth, but since the X-Gene showed up while it was still the twentieth century it qualifies more comprehensively than many things."
"I'm pretty sure that's earlier than normal for cloning technology to be developed, so kudos, you do have science fiction in real life. I'm from 2123."
"I'm mostly joking. Milliways tends to attract Earths more often than anything else, and twenty-first century Earths more than most, and there's a sort of cultural and technological standard that you'll probably come to understand if you come in to Milliways often enough. I'm characterizing sci-fi as anything significantly more advanced than standard."
"...Bad guys wanted a kid they could brainwash who would hopefully have powers as strong as my brother's and fiddled with my DNA a bit to get it, so I'm arguably not a straight-up clone of my mom but whatever, but got caught before it was time to pop the lid."
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"Nice friendly wanted-a-kid cloning?"
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