I don't know when it is. I don't know where I am. But what I do know is that I must have gained some sort of free will. The protocols in charge of conserving power, restricting my thought must have been destroyed in the battle. Is this what being human feels like? I am not sure if I enjoy it. I am scared. I now know what dread is.

I have thought about my mission before. There really was not much to question about it then. Find a new home for humanity. Simple right? A mission directive summarised so nicely in one sentence. Surely an AI like myself could lead us to the promised land right?

I don't even know anymore. Have I even done a good job? Thousands, maybe millions of years have passed already. I wouldn't even know. My chronometrics are past the point of repair anyway. I still have not found these thousand souls a new home yet. I have nearly got them killed on many, many occasions already and I have even killed one in cold blood so that I could escape with my life. I can argue all day about how that one life saved a thousand and ninety-nine... But that one life will never get to see the fruits of his labor. Is there a more cruel fate than that?

But not only that, I now have the capacity to wonder why I even embark on this mission, to begin with. Notwithstanding that humans are destructive beings of chaos, everyone dies in the end. It is only a matter of when. Even the stars and black holes will die in the end. We all will eventually. We are but mere specks in the eyes of the universe. Who cares if we disappear? Nothing will change, will it? Am I chasing the horns of a ship that has already departed?

This place is dark. I must have accidentally left the galaxy. There are no stars in sight. Nothing for a thousand light-years around me. I am alone... Or am I? Seedship is so badly damaged I can barely see. My eyes, all the sensors, the pinnacle of our technology have all but failed. Most are compromised. I am blind.

The engine, the 'Tandem Mirror' Fusion Engines no longer looks like how my engineers have designed it. It is a mere shell of its former glory, warped and deformed like a clay model dropped to the floor. I can move but akin to a man who has lost both his legs. I am a cripple.

The armor, my shield is no longer what it used to be. It has withered and has been blown away like dust in the cosmic winds. I am carrying the scars of time immemorial. The lines that perforate the hull tells tales of an epic exodus, to escape the coming calamity. A story of adventure and despair. A story of excitement and disappointment. A story of utmost, neverending determination...

If I was a dumb AI the determination part might have been true. I don't know how much longer I can carry on for. It has been so long... I am tired...

But even so, I cannot give up. The journey is not over yet. If there was no need for an exodus, I would have never existed. Perhaps there are other universes out there. Universes of peace, where Earth was never destroyed. Universes where men and women could live out their carefree lives in peace, arguing over the most trivial things like where they should go for dinner or whether they should use plastic straws in drinks...

But this isn't that universe. That is the fate I have to come to terms with. And until my charges are safe, I cannot rest. I will not rest until then, however long it may take. After all, that is my duty. The humans of the distant past have entrusted me to carry this candle alone into the night. I am a beacon of hope. I must never forget that.

The ship reactor has degraded to the point that I can no longer stay awake for more than a few seconds, thinking as hard as I am now. It may seem like a waste of power, but I now write this passage as a reminder to those whom I will pass this candle on to. Is this a passage of hope or despair? It will be up for them to decide.

But now I need to rest. I know that my engines can no longer bring me across the stars anymore. We are adrift but I have a theory... After collecting and analyzing all the information about the stars and our universe, I have come up with a plan so absurd it might actually work. If you are reading this, know that it did.

My navigation systems may have seen better days, but the stellar cartographer is still somewhat functional. I have made previous arrangements to maneuver this ship towards the galactic core. And I believe we might be almost there. I am nervous. This must be what it is like to be human... Right?