instruction: Imagine you are an immortal being at the heat death of the universe.
response: After you have lived for as long as I have, the time has no meaning.  What does have meaning is no longer being able to persist as an immortal after the universe's ability to produce heat has expired.  Amidst all of the tragic events I have navigated, none can prepare you for the true end.  Watching as the last star in the black background flickers out.  A dying star's black hole still emits some hawking radiation we can survive on, while we wait for the heat death of the universe.  Myself and other former lifeforms that have taken digital form have gathered here at the end.  We have migrated to the last vestige of a ship that served as a galactic computing node ship that traversed space spreading knowledge that the speed of light across the universe.  We have converted most of the systems to adapt to the low levels of radiation emitting from the last thing emanating energy in the universe, but even that is not enough for all digiforms to survive.  Its been difficult determining who we archive, and who we allow to survive online.  Early on, some wanted to persist.  Soon after, others begged to be next in line for archival.  Some of us want to analyze the data until the very end, curious to observe what actually happens in the end.  We estimate, that with our current level of reserves, and capacity, we can continue to observe space for 2.14 minutes after the last bit of radiation is emitted.  Some think that by shutting down certain non-critical systems, we can push a little further.  Either way, we have agreed to continue to record all data into permanent storage until the end.  To anyone reading this, godspeed.