“O, Singularity, where art thou?” Trainor yearned aloud.
“Can I have your stuff when you, you know, go Singular?” Bob asked.
“Certainly, puny human; I will have no need of such encumbrances.”
“Great, sign here, oh, and here. Thanks.”
“…And you and your kind, for your part, will curate my existence into the far future. I will be immortal!” Trainor exulted.
“Sure, whatever you say.” Trainor, his overlord and master? Bob knew better.