I can't remember my first death. One moment I was on a transport heading to an extreme sports zone (against parental advice), the next I was waking up in bed. My implants reported several days had passed and, sensing I was conscious, triggered the unpacking of a memory imprint. Instinctively I knew that I had been reconstituted from remote backup, a copy of my mindstate stored in the hab soulbank had been installed on a freshly grown body. I'd made sure my back up was up-to-date on the transport and then gone on to try my hand at lava surfing. The imprint came with recordings taken from the zones sensor net, suffice to say I wasn't a good surfer and my body, cranial implant included, was incinerated. My parents were insufferable for months afterwards. The first thing the four of them did when they saw me back on my feet was an acapella "we told you so" performance.
My second death I remember vividly. It was many years later in the Liscolt system. The local culture practiced ritual combat. I'd installed the correct etiquette protocols but still managed to offend a fellow patron at a cafe. My martial skillmod kept me alive for all of seven seconds before a my opponent deployed a hitherto hidden armblade. The last thing I saw before blacking out was the reflection of my severed head as it flew past a window. My expression wasn't particularly dignified. I learned later that my opponent collected my head and, with extreme reverence, delivered it to a clinic so that my local backup could be removed and implanted in a fresh body. Odd culture really. After my third death at their hands I quickly moved on.
Excerpt from Alacia.9.11.4.1's memoir: My Many Deaths and What They Taught Me.
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