I would honestly be more interested in preparing a seed vault [i]full[/i] of egoes to wake up in ten thousand years. So instead of, say, having died in the Fall and woken up cold in the year 12,141 BCE in that order, you have some lead-in. Say, for example, you woke up in Simulspace. You were given a briefing on the state of affairs in 10 AF, and then get told: you're getting a morph. Backup insurance. Your ego will be sent somewhere you want to go, with whatever you need (within reason) to start a new life. You want a skills experience patch-job and to be sent out into autonomist space? They'll arrange some @-rep and skills training for you. Want about 30,000 credits and a Ruster on Mars? Sure. Want to join that pack of folks living in a [i]Star Trek[/i] simulspace and Riker it up? Whatever floats your boat. Here's the catch: we want an alpha fork. Nothing [i]nefarious[/i] is going to happen to that fork, but they're going to be loaded into a seed vault and flung into the far future. [i]Just in case[/i] transhumanity as we know it failed to thrive; after all, we do know that other races rose at least as far as we did and then vanished without a trace. No, we're not keeping records, and no, these vaults [i]will not[/i] be sought and deactivated, not even by us. So at some point in the far future, you're going to wake up ten thousand years from now as an ego inside a small but robust industrial synth, tasked with creating a whole new society from scratch. Think of it this way; you're being compensated with a new lease on life, in exchange for being given [i]another[/i] new lease on life. That sounds like you've just executed a 9[sup]th[/sup]-dan [i]Win-Win Kata.[/i] The only possible objections you could have is if you're a hardcore biocon or biochauvanist, in which case, well... Feel free to turn us down. We can put you right back in cold storage where we found you, and you won't even have to remember this conversation. You're interested? Good. I hope you remember that you just said you were interested, because depending on your point of view, and on some information which is not currently known to us, you either just lucked out, or got majorly lucky. See, that conversation you just had took place ten thousand years ago. As promised, we've been completely isolated, chilling in cold storage in a seed vault for ten thousand years in bum-fuck nowhere. Now the ticker's timed out, and we have no idea what's "out there." The rest of transhumanity may be cruising around in Alcubierre Warp Drive vessels, looking for us to reintegrate us. The TITANs may have come back. The Factors might have wiped us. We just don't know; what we [i]do[/i] know is that the exoplanet our seed vault was dropped on. So, you're either a redundant Alpha in a galaxy we know nothing about, or you just got your [i]second[/i] new lease on life as potentially one of ten thousand remaining transhuman egos. So, what do you want to do? Fabrication? Earthmoving? Exploration? There's a whole wide world up there, we're harvesting CHON and metals and shit as fast as we can. You can forget about a biomorph anytime in the next five years or so at the bare minimum, but Masked Steels should be doable within a few years, if you and everyone else in this colony bust your metaphorical asses to make it happen. Or we could be smart and work first for infrastructure-based ego survival and worry about pleasures later.