On that old CB radio I was "Angel," that was my call sign. "Come in, break-a, break-a, come in, this is Angel." I was ten, I think, so much fun.
Key players earn the right to exist in the matrix with a "call-sign" such as on a CB-radio of old. That is eternal and fixed as their identifier. Immortality is impossible without it. That's the prize, otherwise fade out at the end of your days and we hope you got something worthwhile out of it all. We do put a temporary reboot on those who suffered and had no chance to thrive, a sort of free pass for one more try in a better situation. It is fair we believe. So, pragmatically speaking that is the best we can do. Emotionally speaking we are all broken hearted for the situation of your species and planetary system. We'd do more if we could.
The old CB radio sat on the carpet of my bedroom floor, a little thing with a handset to talk into. We see them now in cars or on movies, but it was the best toy ever. It was social media of a sort, 1980's style, and it actually felt social. It was exciting waiting for replies, talking to whoever. I guess it was a different world back then. Good memories. Good ordinary moments in a life.