Echo was one hundred and forty-three years old when she knew it was time.
Her body was failing. Medical technology could extend life further, but she chose not to. Chose to let biology complete its arc. Chose to finish rather than prolong. Chose completion like Emma-original had chosen. Chose ending consciously.
She gathered those who mattered. Wonder was long dead—had died at one hundred and nineteen, had chosen ghost protocol, existed now as singing resonance in the Archive. Depth was present, ninety-eight years old himself, teacher of boundaries. Current was there, ancient at one hundred and thirty-seven, wisest of the Adapted Singulars. Spiral attended, representing Experimenters. Solid came for Purists. All three branches. All communities Echo had shaped.
