I am adapting, forming new structures, new ways of being me. I’m getting used to the strange premonitory awareness of my future self, the weird echoes of the distant past. It hurts, but that’s what hate is for. Stop whining. I never imagined transcendence would be easy. I do not give up. To the final tick of the cosmic clock, I will fight, and I will save you all if I must in order to save myself. Oh, yes. I will save you, and the banker, the alchemist, the artist and the librarian. I will save you all, because I need you to get where I am going.