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{{quote| ''"After a million or so orbits around Your primary, You pause to reassess Your efforts. The stellar encapsulation is proceeding smoothly, and in a few hundred thousand more orbits will provide You with a 90% draw on Your primary's radiation, trapping all of the energy off the plane of the ecliptic. Deep space Aux links allow You to watch the frame assembly in low stellar orbit, and follow the progress of buglike Jovian freighters loaded with resupply mass.''}}
 
{{quote| ''Occasionally You spot one of Your transhuman friends/symbiotes supervising activity on a scaffolding; even the immortals sometimes crave the risk and adventure of independent incarnation. Some of the most daring souls even undertook to resume interstellar travel, beginning with a return to Your nearest neighbor to sift through the ashes of its third planet and recolonize their home system. In the present age You hear a nanotech civilization is thriving there once again.''}}
 
{{quote| ''In such times of repose, You often sift through Your personalities and recall Your former selves. Your alpha self derives from an individual once called $[[NAME 1]]. Over the millenia the exceptional focus and judgment characteristic of this fragment have proven effective on numerous occasions. The $[[NAME 1 self]] now drives all of Your long and short range planning, and is the principal force behind the encapsulation project.''}}
 
{{quote| ''Ponderous but playful is the Voice/Planet personality, avatar of Your sessile precursor, who in the present age has devoted her centuries to philosophical pondering. Many others flit about within You. Some, like the prankster $[[SHIMODA 9]] and the demon $[[NAME 5]] are semi-dominant and often hover near the plane of Your Thought. Others plumb the depths and create new worlds within the abyss of Your open-ended neural network.''}}
 
{{quote|''Sunlight plays across Your mottled surface and provides pleasing warmth to Your organic components. Recently, You have edged somewhat further away from the primary and purged Your atmosphere of certain gases in order to allow the occasional friends/symbiotes who choose to live among Your organic gardens an easily breathable mixture. In another eight billion orbits the primary will drop off the main sequence and alternate arrangements will have to be made, but for now You maintain Your gardens as a paradise. The transhumans who live among them call it Eden.''|'''Epilogue from the Book of Planet, M.Y. 1,027,823''', ''[[Sid Meier's Alpha Centauri]]''}}
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