A Reborn whose mind is so old she’s one lost pod from forgetting her own name. She remembers First Contact with the Gallente, translating her name into their language, changing it to protect her family during the war against the Amarr, and then again after the war to hide being a historical figure. She remembers so much but has almost forgotten herself.

She remembers writing with a quill pen about the wonders of the new advanced science that had just recently woken her people up from the slumber of ages, and the mysteries of outer space that could be theirs if her countrymen only rejected old superstitions like “rebirth.” Then the gallant aliens came and the steamengines, telegraph, and germ theory the early Intaki scholars were so proud of were overshadowed by rocketplanes, jumpgates, and cyberware. She was one of many of that generation to become the New Reborn, achieving with science what faith pretended. But the war against ignorance at home was eclipsed by the war against the madness of the Empire.

She remembers when the whole galaxy united in war against the Amarr, and all hope was lost until the Jovians joined the alliance, reducing the Empire from the threshold of total galactic domination to one power among equals. She remembers the centuries that followed as the Federation was defeated by victory. She studied the sciences and engineering before realizing that humanity wouldn’t be saved by some gadget. She spent lifetimes studying history, psychology, sociology, in order to understand what was so wrong with humanity. Then she lived as an activist, rebel, politician, to try to lead them away from the horrors of the past. After her disappearance University of Caille staff raided her office and found her journal’s last entry: “Why is there no New Man, only Man? What has made him utterly invincible to all attempts at reform? Why must there always be rich and poor, those rich in love, and poor in love?”

She is much wiser now. Humanity is no longer something she cares passionately about and tries to change in an endless, thankless, humiliating, grueling, Sisyphean task, but interesting, abstract things she watches from afar, tracking carefully, logging the data without bias or error, different from the relic and data sites she explores only in provenance. After so many lives she has learned patience. Deep Time stretches out before her, vast and terrifying. One day there will be a test. The hardest question may be "write your name."