103.

There is a place in [Brooklyn], in New York State just outside Manhattan; a little plot of land deep in the Jewish neighborhood. I visited it on a fine Saturday much like this one. I know it, because a piece of me is buried there; a piece that existed long before I was born. There is a piece of mythology in my family, you see; I share my name with my great-grandfather, the one in my direct paternal line, the Jewish side of my family. Because I resemble him in temperament - an aesthete, an epicure, an ideologue, a traveller, a polyglot - the story goes that I am his reincarnation, giving this whole "living" thing a second crack.

There is a place in Namyangju, in Gyeonggi-do just outside Seoul; a little plot of hilly land. I know it, because pieces of me are buried there; pieces that existed long before I was born. I visited it on a fine Saturday much like this one.

There is a place somewhere in the universe, probably but not certainly in the Solar System. I don't know it at all, but much of what I once was will be there; those quiescent pieces that will exist long after I am dead. You will visit it in a fine Saturday much like this one. Like any right-thinking creature who read LessWrong in 2010 and still holds extropian dreams, I admit the possibility of living a billion years; unlike many in that reference class, I have consciously chosen to decline cryogenic preservation.

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