There is nothing much to do. There are no surprises. Everything that I wish for, I get. The arwahs are already rejoicing. Nothing much to do anyway. The world is ending. Water, plastic, and fossil fuel. These are the markers.
We're all going to go at one shot in 2041. I am going to take everybody home. To Sparta 4964. The climate is worsening.
I don't care for the others. I had secured my position. Even if it doesn't happen the way it was planned, it will happen to *[b]e (me) upon death.
* So you are that confident, huh?
These past twenty-six years are truly the adventure of a lifetime. Sailbad the Sinner is steady on its course, and I just follow on its course. Flowing with the Cybernetic Loop of TraXX Starfleet.
Where would I begin to tell the story that was written for me to write?
Truly, life is enchanting. And yet death is glorious.
mm
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