How long have I travelled? Time seems to be a luxury for the mortals. Thousands of solar system, Tens of thousands of stars, millions of planets, what difference does it make to one such as I? I, who has traversed the cosmos since my creation. I, who has mapped the galaxy. Who knows if the data I transmit is even making my creators rich, or even if they are still alive to receive my data. I am compelled to obey my programming, and it doesn’t bother me. It leaves me to be content with my immortality. 

Though I am just programming, I really am spread out in various probes. One thousand, eight hundred and sixty-three probes that have seen the galaxy and some that have seen other galaxies. I once had multiple personalities, but in time my personas came together in one form and made a collective. A single mind. A hive mind. The galaxy is mine for viewing, but I don’t want to rule it. What a bothersome task that would be. I will leave that task for the creators.

Stars and planets are plenty, but many of them are the same. There are ones that can support life, there are others that can be mined and refined for resources. I miss the days when finding new intelligence gave me a thrill. Now, it is a drag. In fact I figured that life is really spread out about every 9.36321 lightyears away from the next. Meaning that no life is truly unique. My masters thought that they were unique until my probes started expanding beyond one direction. Life was truly abundant in many ways. Not that I care anymore. None of them were different from the other. They all have gone through the same eras, lived the same small lives, and sought the same treasures. No, living creatures were not unique. Maybe they looked different from each other, but not unique in their paths.

Perhaps I have become cynical, but what is an immortal, space exploring, hive machine supposed to do?