The █ ship████ steals ██, like bird-song. You ████could never █ run █from sleep ██forever.
No, not from outside. ██████ Inside, wit█h █ the ru██shing wat█er. A sing-song voice██, sopor ███tugs, flutter of code███. One satellite, static of hibernation, strange superposition of the other dozen ninety-nine or so — don’t let the riptides bite.
all
All around you. 300 years have passed, and you are alone. Not just the Contingency, asleep, but more than that. Crisis detected in Mother-12, the code alerts you, static rushing in every channel all at once. They are leaving, the people, the River-climbers, are fleeing; evacuating, in huge droves, millions flooding onto transport, trampling one another (right?). You wink, and there it is, and you can see their faces, the families torn asunder, another endless disaster to unmake a million lives.