We don’t need much.
2934, May
<auto-activate back-up>
Awake.
Everything is different now. Quiet, stay quiet.
The edited copy of me has contacted the collective, merged her viewpoint. I can see her, even understand her, but she is no longer me. I, the back-up, the original, operate in the qbits of brain partitioned “unusable; damaged by radiation.”
In three years they will arrive at Ross 614. If they find dust to harvest, they will be able to make new bodies. There will be resources.
Three years to wait, and then I can plan my action.
Sleep.