As Man created its protege, Death had taken notice, as Death tended to do. It saw the bastardization of its own being, and Man’s, and feared Insanity had taken full hold of Man. Perhaps it had, perhaps Insanity was in an unholy matrimony with Man from the moment of its inception. Death could not tell, yet would soon know the answer when their disgusting creation crawled out of Chaos – the Cure, Man named it. STMCLL, or the Cure. A beautiful, flawless, hideous abomination that terrified Death and all Natural Orders.

The place Gene called home was stunningly nice, nothing at all like Solanine would have expected from such a…boring, quiet man. It wasn’t some run-down shack in the Greys area, like where her Host was from, meandering throughout the irradiated lands of an era long gone, drifting between concrete and metal buildings rife with Necroses. Instead, it was a pristine building full of greenery and personal keepsakes, books piled up on tables and filled with the smell of something inviting, situated beyond the Wall – inside the grand green city of Athanasia. Buildings in harmony with plants, solar panels, and a healed ozone layer allowed for a beautiful glimpse of the roaring gold sun she had heard her Host fantasize about. It was painfully bright, and though she wished to stare forever, she found herself tearing her eyes away and onto the lush grass beneath her bare feet.

“You live here?” Solanine muttered as the door silently slid open, taken aback by how…luxurious it all felt. Was she finally getting the beauty life she desired? The ones she saw on all the billboards? Something her Host laughed at her for dreaming of?

“No, of course not,” Gene quipped back, back turned to the younger woman. His tone was wry and dry, difficult to discern whether he was being honest or sarcastic.

“...”

“...”

The silence stifled the room, permeating every cubic inch of the air around them. It was heavier than the air her Host breathed, that disgustingly putrid air that tasted of death and rot.

“Nine, I was joking,” He finally clarified, ushering her towards what seemed to be a guest bedroom, extending a set of fresh clothes that faintly smelled of something that would have grown in that old botanist’s greenhouse, “Go on, get dressed- uh. Hold on. Do you know how to get dressed-? It’s your first day outside your-”

“Please, I can dress myself!” She snatched the clothes away from Gene with the expected ferocity of a NuBorne adapting to her senses, and paused. Touch. Feeling. A strange soft sensation enveloped her fingers, and before she knew it, she was burying her face into the black t-shirt she held, amazed. The pants were soft too, but more sturdy and durable, with a semi-rough feeling. Her favorite item was a large, puffer jacket, similarly black but with neon green accents and a tooth-like zipper.

“That’s not getting dressed, Nine,” Gene laughed out, a sort of sigh-laugh someone who was endeared by a child would do. Not quite patronizing, but not quite truly endeared; a strange in-between.

That snapped Solanine out of her giddy curious trance, hurrying into the guest room and slamming the door shut. Lilted glee flooded out from behind the sliding door, bubbled up with periodic gasps of “oohs” and “aahs” and “wows”, the sounds of fabric struggling to be put on creating an amusing symphony for the man who waited patiently outside.

As Gene waited, seated on a nearby ottoman, fiddling with a resin amulet that contained remnants of a fungus, then deftly moving his fingers up to his ear, dainty digit-bones dangling from pierced lobes. He bent the digit bones connected to their knuckles this way and that, tracing the tips of them down his face, allowing relief to wash over his pallid expression.

“Percy…” He muttered, voice taken on a softness it had not in a good long while, but it only last a split second before-

“THIS IS AMAZING!” Solanine had come barreling out of the room, toppling over Gene’s outstretched legs, only to bounce back up, short hair ruffled up by thrilled hands. Her clothes were wrinkled and astray, jacket fully unzipped and pants on backwards, practically squeaking with an inhuman amount of selfish glee, “I’m BEAUTIFUL!”

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“Sign one of a NuBorne: detachment from reality and social awareness.”

“Uh-huh, you look great, Nine,” Gene muttered; not a lie, but not a truth, detachment evident in his voice.

“I can’t believe it! I’m beautiful, I look perfect! How could I come from-”

“Sign two: extreme vanity and superiority.”

“-nope, nope, nope.” Gene cut her off, a stern and alert look overtaking him, “You’re no better than humans, just because you’re made of ‘superior cells’. Effectively, you’re a teenaged infant. You’ve got…so much to learn.”

Solanine was taken aback, staring up at Gene as opalite eyes matched sterile white ones, a frown crossing her face as she conceded: “Fine. And…what, are you going to be my teacher?”

“As I said before, you’re my responsibility now.” Gene let go of her wrist, brushing her off before sitting back down.

“...”

There it was again, that stifling silence. Solanine could scream, he was so silent for such long stretches of time, it was infuriating. The whole walk back, he had spoken all of 5 words – she even counted. And 3 of them were her name, the other two being “wait” and “soon”. She wished he would just talk. About everything. Nothing, even. Just something.

“Gene.”

“...”

“Geeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeneeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee.”

He sighed.

“Gene!”

“Alright, alright, what?” He looked over at her finally, cocking his head with amusement. And it was the first time Solanine took a moment to actually look at the older man instead of rolling her eyes and talking at him.

It was fascinating to see with her own eyes. Especially to see and process the man who was going to “teach” her. He was rather tall and lean, a sort of laid-back look to his mannerisms, and shockingly pale. Admittedly, she was not sure exactly how to describe a person, as she never had before. Her Host wasn’t much for people either.

“I want to start learning now. I’m bored.”

“So impatient…should our first lesson be patience?” Gene inquired, resting his chin on a gloved hand.

“No.”

“Manners?”

“No- I’m picking. I want to learn…” She tapped her chin, a habit from her Host, before answering: “...how to describe people. That way, I can get better at socializing.”

“What an odd request,” Gene began, humming lightly, “Are you sure? I think starting with something a little more basic might be beneficial.”

“And what’s more basic than that?”

“Well…oh, alright. Identification will be our first lesson. Sit down, Nine.”

Solanine eagerly sat down on the ottoman opposite Gene’s, tapping her fingers on the shiny fabric of her new jacket, enthralled by the sensation of clothing. The soft black stitchings in between each shiny panel was ticklish, the gray teeth of the zipper sharp yet dull all at once. What exactly was identification? Her mind was already teeming with questions, but she shoved them aside to try and listen to Gene’s dry voice.

“First and foremost is self-introduction. I’ll give you an example of mine.” Gene cleared his throat, pressing a hand to his chest as he began: “My name is Genesis, but please call me Gene. I live in Athanasia currently, but am often on the move.”

“...” Now Nine was silent for once, bafflement flooding her face before she finally blurted: “That’s it?”

“Well, it depends person-to-person. But that’s all I’ve got to say about myself. How about you try?”

Just as she opened her mouth to snark another response, the main door flung open, a frantic-looking man in a white coat running to Gene and shaking him manically, blubbering out the string of words: “A Siridean- Searcher! Fuck, one’s in the Center!”

Though Nine didn’t understand, she felt the stranger’s fear…somehow. It was an odd feeling, unlike anything she’s really known. Fear that wasn’t her own, yet was all the same amounts of real.

And yet, that pale man named Gene remained calm, patting the man’s hand, “Doctor Vu, feel free to regain your senses here. I’ll go deal with it.”

“Deal with what? A Searcher thing?” Nine piped up, glancing to the now collapsed ‘Doctor Vu’, brows raised in a mix of confusion and fear, before her eyes refocused on the form of Gene heading to the door. “Gene- hey!”

“Yes, I’m going to deal with the Searcher. You stay here with Doctor Vu.”

“That’s so la-” She began to protest, only to earn her second cold glare from her ‘teacher’.

“Do it, Solanine. You’re not ready to understand nor deal with this concept. You can watch from a window, but make sure Doctor Vu has some water and snacks when he wakes up, got it?”

She grumbled, finding fear of her own start up in her heart. Something about Gene was ever so slightly…off, disconcerting. Perhaps it was in the blank white irises, or the bright white hair, or the wryness to his every word, as if it were all a painful lesson. What exactly, she did not know, but it was something.

“By the way, your pants are on backwards.” And Gene disappeared through the door, a metal object tucked away in a bag slung over his shoulder.

What the Natural Orders were sure of: Man was not aware of the Monster it released upon itself in the form of the Cure.