I am Mia Cohen, a historian in Micro society, specializing in the "Pre-Disaster Era" (that is, Macro Era). I believed the Micros were Macro's direct descendants— this belief was the cornerstone of Micro society. Until one day, a huge "god" descended—the Ark's commander, a Macro who was two meters tall. I was chosen to speak with the "god." I toured the Ark and saw the Seed Vault and the Embryo Vault. I saw Macro embryos— those giant lives completely different from mine. The "god" told me he was the last Macro. He asked to become a member of Micro society. I felt confused— Macros had already gone extinct, why was he still alive?

Robert showed the Micros the Ark—a starship that could hold the entire Macro civilization. He showed them the Seed Vault and the Embryo Vault. The Micros were stunned. I asked Robert: "Who are you?" Robert answered: "I am the last Macro. I am humanity's last memory." I was silent for a long time. I began to think about a question I had never thought of before: If Macros had gone extinct, were the Micros still human? If the Micros inherited Macro's culture, what was inherited— culture, or identity? I began writing a philosophical work— "Who Are We?"— which caused huge controversy in Micro society. Some accepted my questioning, some rejected it.

Robert decided to incinerate the Macro Embryo Vault—he would actively end Macro's biological existence, giving the future entirely to the Micros. I stood beside him, watching him press the incineration button. The embryo tubes vaporized instantly in the laser beam. "Are you sure?" I asked. Robert nodded. "Macros should disappear from memory, not live as monsters in reality." I understood— this was a sacrifice, a farewell. But my thinking did not stop. I continued writing my philosophical work. I wrote in my book: "The meaning of existence lies not in answers, but in questioning itself. Who are we? This question has no answer. But the questioning itself is the answer."

Robert returned alone to the Ark and spent his remaining years in space. My philosophical work "Who Are We?" spread widely in Micro society. Some accepted my view— the meaning of existence lies in questioning itself. Some rejected it— they believed the Micros were humanity's inheritors, an unshakable fact. I didn't care. I knew this question had no standard answer. What mattered was that Micro society was thinking about this question— questioning their identity, their existence, their future. I stood on the Earth's surface— to the Micros, a vast plain— and looked up at the starry sky. I didn't know if Robert was still watching me from space. But I knew, whether Macro had gone extinct or not, the Micros were still continuing to question. And the questioning itself was humanity's most precious heritage.

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