Whump.
Everything is back where it is, except us. We're all somewhere and sometime different.
First things first. Check with the locals, no telling what has changed.
There are times when the greeting is good, coherent with things going well during our absence. Those times it is a matter of syncing up and moving on.
Other times, the times and sometimes places are not so well. Wars end, start, start and end, all within the segment skip through time.
People come and go like dandelions. Bright and sunny, white and wispy the next. Sometimes whole seasons go by. Sometimes a day. There really is no telling, just more and more travels, until you and those who share in your life/profession/obsession become the oldest living members of your race.
Speaking of which, I'm sure there are those who haven't caught up with the multiple species much less race thing yet. They will when their cache gets updated. Likely, there are those you wonder if they were lost, or if they reached far far forward and are gambling that their apathy and ability to outlast but not outstreach the civilization thread we follow and shape carries them further than all of us.
Transmit, record and leave. Librarian is not a bad life. Outside of never knowing if graffiti such as this splayed across the pulsars ever gets heard.
Next time,
Alexander of Alexandria
Whump.
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