"You know what I find hardest about living forever? Cookbooks.
"You’re laughing, right? Cookbooks? Seriously. I can handle continuous software updates, I can handle learning new things. Hey, if you’re going to make it past your first millennium, you had better damn well be willing to unlearn the old shibboleths of your youth, even in your fifth or sixth childhood.
"But, cookbooks. I have my mother’s cookbook and I always try to keep the format current. Used to write it all on paper note cards-that’s like, fifty years tops? Data formats change, even the classic .txt format is invalid these days, even if your stuff has the converters for it. These days, it’s all diamond-sheet inscribed, both the original and translations.
"And, we’re not even talking about materials. Invested like a quarter-billion man-hours in trying to get just the right ricotta cheese. The stuff that you get these days, before I put the time into it, just not right. And, you can tell the difference of vat beef versus from a cow-I can do blind taste tests and win three times out of five.
"All your friends look at you weird when you break out the hardware to do it and they don’t quite get what you’re making or if they should enjoy it or not. I only make the stuff from Mom’s cookbook three days a year-the day before, the day of, and the day after my birthday, my first one.
"…
"…Mom died four, five years before practical uploading. And, even so, her brain was so far gone by the time it happened they couldn’t have done anything. Hell, they couldn’t have done anything now. Just…gone, holes in her brain from all the things we don’t get anymore.
"I got photos, have holos, hell I could make an eidielon based on her social network presence and e-mails and I would never be able to tell the difference. But, what I really miss about her? Her cooking. I can describe her kitchen, even now, right down to the cracked teapot her mother had given her.
“Yea, I’ll be fine. Honest, I will.”