He spread his hands. "Let me tell you how different I am. I don’t sleep. I run a permanent mild fever. I grew up really fast—and not just because I spent my childhood in the L.A. fast lane. I’m twenty-eight now, but most people assume I’m in my mid-thirties. I’m sterile—I’ll never have kids of my own—and I’ve had three bouts of liver cancer. Luckily, that kind of cancer treats pretty easily nowadays, but I’m still on angiogenesis inhibitors, plus growth-factor blockers, and I have to take antitumor maintenance pills three times a month. The other eight kids from that raid—five of them died young of major organ cancers, and the other three ... well, they’re Danes. They are three identical Danish women with—let me just put it this way—with extremely troubled personal lives."