There’s nothing quite like sunrise in space, especially from the outside. Seen it twice now in the last couple hours, in absolute silence, and let me tell you, it makes this whole shitshow seem so insignificant. Humanity, so insignificant. We’re nothing but a blip in time.
Floating out here made me think of a book I read, what, seven years ago, on a long haul to Uranus. I’m not much of a reader but there’s only so many you can have sex with bef—ok, that came out wrong. Oh, for fucks sake, let’s just get back to the book.
The Moon is a Harsh Mistress.
Space is a harsh mistress. Almost comical how accurate the author got it, and before anyone of us was even out here too. Except he had the wrong moon. Luna was never the problem, Phoebe was. Federation got the defense grid up pretty fucking quick after that. I suppose there was no AI behind the Phoebe revolt either, just good old—hey, Al? You should read the book. The main character was a computer just like you.
Thank you, Lizzie. I will look it up.
Anyway, the book isn’t even the point. A quote stuck with me. Once humanity is established on more than one planet, there is no way imaginable to kill off the human race. Looking at it from where I’m at, all I can say is, someone out there has a really good imagination.
Lizzie, you’re still alive. We are still here. I do not understand how to imagine, but maybe it is a bit like the book. I found Mike to be very insightful, and you are like his best friend, Mannie, also with a damaged arm.
That—wait, you read the whole thing just now?
Yes. I am a knowsoft. I process data quickly and I know shit.
You kn—shit?
I also downloaded a language mod from the communications array you connected. According to an old ad, it is the shit.
Al, I—
Lizzie, the beacon on your rig is coming up in 5.
Alright. Pass it through to my HUD and let’s get to work.
Henrik Refsnes 
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