The Great Ascension
The Archivist did not remember the feeling of rain, or the scent of a dying rose. He was a construct of light and memory, the final sentinel of a species that had long since shed the burden of flesh. For ten thousand years, he had watched over the Seed-Vault, a shimmering sphere containing the genetic and cultural essence of a billion worlds. The Great Signal had been sent in the First Age, a...
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