It was conceived by a thousand humans, and finally stood tall, braced by scaffolding that soared a mile into the air, overlooking an expanse of clear turquoise sea. An aged face observed its breadth with a smile, from fifteen files distant. One hundred years of development and two decades of construction contributed to this vital seed. She leaned an arthritic hand on her great-grand-nephew's shoulder.
"I have lived...to see this," she said quietly.
"Yes," said the nephew. "And so have I."
"We go forth," she said.
The ground rumbled and the observation stand shook violently. A vast white cloud emerged from underneath the vessel. It rose slowly on oxygen combustion--it's fusion engines would yet engage only past the stratosphere--and freed itself from the chains of the Earth. It was unmanned but contained the entire map of all the genomes of all the biomass ever evolved on its planet, all the curiosities of all its cultures preserved virtually, and all the code needed to invigorate a dead planet with life. It was the first of its kind, but not the last. It was Earth's love letter to the universe.