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Till then, I'd been going days at a trot without a proper meal, spending all my dosh on ecstasy and other drugs. After I met that perv from the Uni, it took me a couple of days to twig that I wasn't hungry any more, nor I didn't want the drugs neither. But every day, I kept finding holes in my knickers, so I always felt a breeze round my fadge. After a week without any meals, and not wanting any, I started to feel like maybe I was

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and wondering if I was going to stay sixteen years old for the rest of my life. Whenever I cut myself, or got beaten up by a punter, the hurt would heal right away. Except my teeth, and that. Before I'd met that perv, I'd had a few teeth knocked out that never grew back, and some chipped teeth that only got worse. Strange that everything else heals now, but never my teeth.

I stopped going on the blob. I'd figured out that, whenever I sat down, or when my fanny ever touched against owt, that's how those tiny nano-robots inside me would get energy to keep working: whenever I pulled away, a few bits and bobs of whatever my fadge had touched would be missing, as if it had melted off, like. Didn't matter what: cloth, wood, metal, plastic. My lady-bits had become some kind of dispose-all, eating anything. Glass, too. So I'm a human bottle bank.

There was only so long I could stay in one neighbourhood without someone noticing I never get any older. I tried to avoid the dole office, the labour exchange, the Nash ... the National Health System, I mean. Anyplace where government folk would see me. When they made everyone get ID microchips under their skin, I knew the game was up. After I'd been microchipped a few weeks, my skin pushed the microchip out again. The people at Central Entry knew straight away.

Central Entry's security team came to nick me. They took me to a gowy lab down at Centry. They did no end of tests on me, and somebody twigged that the microbots in my bloodstream are regenerating my body - except my teeth - so that everything heals and I never get older. Some government wonk with big words explained to me about how my telomeres stay the same, and the Hayflick limit, and that. Another gowy told me the nanobots in my blood are (I heard this word often enough to remember it) self-replicating.

Then they locked me up, so they could study me. Special Act of Parliament or summat, so they could keep me locked up in a lab.

The doctors were especially interested in how I never need to eat nor drink, because the nanobots inside me get energy and materials from whatever touches my fadge. I still need to sleep, though.

They gave me a private room but it was just a cell, cus I was never allowed to leave except when they took me out for tests. They stuck needles in me, and took all the blood out of my body twice over, trying to take out the tiny robots. They did tests on my fadge, and that, and several times my lady-bits melted the tips of their scientific thingies. Then they put me back the room again. With the door locked.

Once, they turned off the vents in my cell, and I could hear all the air pumping out. I couldn't talk, with no air and that. I couldn't breathe, neither. About three hours later, the air came back and I started breathing again, then some doctors came to see me. Said it was an accident. Liars!

There's a water tap in here, but I only drink water once in a while when I'm dead bored. That's dead bored, not dead. Once I went without water for two months, no probs. One of the doctors said summat about the nanobots rehydrating my cells. He also said as how the nano-wotsis had adapted to my personal DNA and that, so injecting some of my blood into somebody else won't work the trick.

I never get hungry or thirsty. At least I still need to sleep.

After seven or eight years of getting poked and jabbed, I tried to

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and they tried as long as they could to keep the lab safe from the snot-rot (what I heard a nurse call it), or the Global Pandemic (what a doctor called it), but finally it showed up in