An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works
Happy Sep Heap AU day! I made the old pigeon man immortal.
Lynne wrinkled her nose. “Why do you call Memry your descendant, and not your niece?” Lynne looked again at Gomez’s age spots. “Or, grandniece?” Though Memry called him Gramps, Lynne remembered that Gomez had once said something about not having any children when Alma asked.   “Because she’s not my grandniece. She’s my descendant.” Gomez set a damp beaker on an ancient drying rack, which they had cleaned first.   “Okay, but she can’t be your great-grandniece, because that’s like four generations of people. You’re not that old.”   “I’m five hundred years old.”   “No you’re not,” Lynne scoffed. “You couldn’t be.”   “I discovered the secret to eternal youth with Alchemie.”   Less certain now, Lynne nonetheless pointed out, “You’re not young, though.”   “It took me a long time to work out the secret.”   Lynne opened her mouth, closed it, and frowned at Gomez. Maybe he was really deadpan when he joked. Or maybe he was serious. Gomez, who had recently passed his five hundred and seventy-fourth birthday (he didn’t celebrate, but kept track for scientific accuracy), did not offer any further evidence one way or another.
