You’re barely beyond the grasp of our small sun refusing to let go. Wave goodbye to our last, demoted planet. Next stop: Alpha Centauri proximity, year 19600 AD. In the time it took humans to evolve from neanderthal to digital lemming you’ll cross the lawn to say hello to our next-door neighbor. If there’s life there that resembles your gold-etched humans, they’ll be more human than I. Here I carry a practical supercomputer in my pocket that can connect to Dial-a-Prayer across 13,000 miles, guided by a cranial electric storm, while mapping the walk where I tripped over a lost, tilted grave. You cross 13,000 miles in a fraction of a second, steered by a computer less powerful than a Pac Man watch. Who knows what seed you carry. I fell to Earth before you left our atmosphere. Blink three times if you miss me.