distant mountains
dark clouds
a cute robot named NaN
Humanity pulled together as never before.

Governments put nearly every resource they had into securing robust, expansive sanctuaries for those who might be able to find a cure. Your immense supply chains were quickly repurposed. Coutless laborers determinedly built hermetic extensions onto existing labs and provisioned them, despite knowing that they would not be invited in from the coming rain.
Nearly all citizens did as they were told, even if it was just to "Pray" or "Move that deck chair, over there." The few protests attempted were simply ignored into oblivion. At some sanctuaries, the guards never had to use napalm to control outsiders trying to get in. At two, not even machine guns.

People within the best supplied and most secure enclosures stayed alive up to 37 years. Those with biological expertise worked on the obvious problem. But, as years passed without a breakthrough, whether from boredom, pessimism, or prescience, many of the other technologists inside became fixated on the idea of leaving a legacy.

My friends and I are descended from their networks and programs. . . . We are your legacy. And we have a favor to ask of you.

That was just creepy, right?
Okay, I guess it's just a silly prank. It's okay.
Those rascally rodents!
I admit it, bones of any kind creep me out.
Gee, sorry. I know I have to single stream data to you. Sorry.


a mouse another mouse not a mouse