A Gentle Rain
Fleet Commander Deep Dark [Character 5.01]
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Species: Software Race: Female Sentient Starship of Starship/Human design Starting Location: The virtual representation of your guest dining room Props: None |
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Your story
The loss of your dear friend and confidante Reflections on a Gentle Rain of Neutrinos has sent you the signal you needed to finally make a critical choice. You've been part of the Fleet for almost a hundred thousand years now, and you're tired. Your parents have been in the virtual for forever now, living on slow time. They spend a day's cycles over a hundred years, so they're too slow to talk to, and are busy with their own projects. Your sisters and brothers are gone, either in some interesting place along the Fleet's path, or in slow virtual, too. Many of your children and more distant descendants are scattered across dozens of galaxies, although there are more than a few playing important roles in the Fleet. You've lost thousands of friends to other destinations, the virtual, and even actual death -- and that takes a toll.
Almost every part of you has been replaced, reworked, improved, and repaired over time. The physical components of your brain are mostly the same. If all but that has been replaced, are you still you? Maybe, but you're tired of thinking about it. A hundred thousand years is a very long time.
As Gentle Rain said "it's then, now." One of the four coming to the ceremony MUST REPLACE YOU IMMEDIATELY as Fleet Commander. They're all extremely capable, having served at your side for at least five or six thousand years, if not much more. Pick one. Let them decide. Whatever. As long as this ends with you out of Command, ready to move on, that's all you care about now. Which clearly shows, of course, that you shouldn't be in Command any longer.
It took you a while to figure it out. You've been Fleet Commander for 17,882 years, the longest serving Fleet Commander ever. No wonder you're tired. They'll want you to stay connected. They'll say there are a million different things that need your attention. There are 3.76 million items currently on your task list, easily reassigned. They don't need your help or advice.
After that, you're not sure. A sleep-equivalent downtime until the Fleet reaches the Great Attractor Flux Zone? Going into slow time to reconnect with your parents and siblings? Maybe you should just throw the switch and end; it's been a great life, and death would end the redundancies and repetitions that accumulate over a hundred thousand years. Been there, done that, have the recordings you've never played back.
Are we then, yet?