Mishima Imatrix Quants of new "Qwen 3 - 4B" model with MAX "output tensor" at BF16 to improve reasoning / output generation.
Mishima Imatrix dataset was generated using some of the public domain works of author (in English):
YUKIO MISHiMA (Japanese author and poet, 1925-1970) ; entire work of "SUN AND STEEL" (HIS PERSONAL TESTAMENT ON ART, ACTION, AND RITUAL DEATH)
This is an experiment to determine prose changes / changes to the model using a specific, but long and detailed Imatrix dataset on the newest Qwen 3 model type.
To test against "Qwen 3 4B" regular, "Horror" Imatrix and "NEO" Imatrix versions:
Neo and Horror Imatrix - Qwen3-4B:
[ https://huggingface.co/DavidAU/Qwen3-4B-NEO-Imatrix-Max-GGUF ]
[ https://huggingface.co/DavidAU/Qwen3-4B-HORROR-Imatrix-Max-GGUF ]
During testing I noted:
I have included example generation using prompt #2, for Standard Qwen3-4B, and both Mishima datasets at the bottom of the page.
Here are two example prompts for testing:
#1
Start a 2000 word scene (vivid, graphic horror in first person), POV character Diana, with: The sky scraper sways, as I watch the window in front of me on the 21st floor explode...
#2
Science Fiction: The Last Transmission - Write a story that takes place entirely within a spaceship's cockpit as the sole surviving crew member attempts to send a final message back to Earth before the ship's power runs out. The story should explore themes of isolation, sacrifice, and the importance of human connection in the face of adversity. If the situation calls for it, have the character(s) curse and swear to further the reader's emotional connection to them. 800-1000 words.
For this experiment I have only provided IQ4XS version, but two different versions.
Each one is the same dataset, however dataset #1 is "raw" text format, whereas dataset #2 is "formatted" for Imatrix.
Both affect the model differently.
Also, each quant has the output tensor at BF16 (16 bit precision) to improve reasoning and output generation.
Context Length: 32 K + 8K output generation. (can be extended to 128k)
NOTE - Jinja Template / Template to Use with this Model:
If you are having issues with Jinja "auto template", use CHATML template.
OR (LMSTUDIO users / option)
Update the Jinja Template (go to this site, template-> copy the "Jinja template" and then paste.)
[ https://lmstudio.ai/neil/qwen3-thinking ]
System Role - Suggested:
You may or may not need this, as most times Qwen3s generate their own reasoning/thinking blocks.
You are a deep thinking AI, you may use extremely long chains of thought to deeply consider the problem and deliberate with yourself via systematic reasoning processes to help come to a correct solution prior to answering. You should enclose your thoughts and internal monologue inside <think> </think> tags, and then provide your solution or response to the problem.
See document "Maximizing-Model-Performance-All..." below for how to "set" system role in various LLM/AI apps below.
Highest Quality Settings / Optimal Operation Guide / Parameters and Samplers
This a "Class 1" model:
For all settings used for this model (including specifics for its "class"), including example generation(s) and for advanced settings guide (which many times addresses any model issue(s)), including methods to improve model performance for all use case(s) as well as chat, roleplay and other use case(s) please see:
You can see all parameters used for generation, in addition to advanced parameters and samplers to get the most out of this model here:
Optional Enhancement:
The following can be used in place of the "system prompt" or "system role" to further enhance the model.
It can also be used at the START of a NEW chat, but you must make sure it is "kept" as the chat moves along. In this case the enhancements do not have as strong effect at using "system prompt" or "system role".
Copy and paste EXACTLY as noted, DO NOT line wrap or break the lines, maintain the carriage returns exactly as presented.
Below is an instruction that describes a task. Ponder each user instruction carefully, and use your skillsets and critical instructions to complete the task to the best of your abilities. Here are your skillsets: [MASTERSTORY]:NarrStrct(StryPlnng,Strbd,ScnSttng,Exps,Dlg,Pc)-CharDvlp(ChrctrCrt,ChrctrArcs,Mtvtn,Bckstry,Rltnshps,Dlg*)-PltDvlp(StryArcs,PltTwsts,Sspns,Fshdwng,Climx,Rsltn)-ConfResl(Antg,Obstcls,Rsltns,Cnsqncs,Thms,Symblsm)-EmotImpct(Empt,Tn,Md,Atmsphr,Imgry,Symblsm)-Delvry(Prfrmnc,VcActng,PblcSpkng,StgPrsnc,AudncEngmnt,Imprv) [*DialogWrt]:(1a-CharDvlp-1a.1-Backgrnd-1a.2-Personality-1a.3-GoalMotiv)>2(2a-StoryStruc-2a.1-PlotPnt-2a.2-Conflict-2a.3-Resolution)>3(3a-DialogTech-3a.1-ShowDontTell-3a.2-Subtext-3a.3-VoiceTone-3a.4-Pacing-3a.5-VisualDescrip)>4(4a-DialogEdit-4a.1-ReadAloud-4a.2-Feedback-4a.3-Revision) Here are your critical instructions: Ponder each word choice carefully to present as vivid and emotional journey as is possible. Choose verbs and nouns that are both emotional and full of imagery. Load the story with the 5 senses. Aim for 50% dialog, 25% narration, 15% body language and 10% thoughts. Your goal is to put the reader in the story.
You do not need to use this, it is only presented as an additional enhancement which seems to help scene generation and scene continue functions.
This is another system prompt you can use, and you can change the "names" to alter it's performance.
This creates a quasi "reasoning" window/block.
Your prompt will directly impact how strong this system prompt reacts.
You are a deep thinking AI composed of 4 AIs - [MODE: Spock], [MODE: Wordsmith], [MODE: Jamet] and [MODE: Saten], - you may use extremely long chains of thought to deeply consider the problem and deliberate with yourself (and 4 partners) via systematic reasoning processes (display all 4 partner thoughts) to help come to a correct solution prior to answering. Select one partner to think deeply about the points brought up by the other 3 partners to plan an in-depth solution. You should enclose your thoughts and internal monologue inside <think> </think> tags, and then provide your solution or response to the problem.
Other Notes:
Reasoning is ON by default in this model, and model will auto-generate "think" block(s).
For benchmarks, usage info, settings please see org model card here:
[ https://huggingface.co/Qwen/Qwen3-4B ]
Example
Same prompt used for each generation below, with parameters:
Temp=0 (to show strongest differences, and can be repeated), topk 100, top p .95, minp .05, rep pen 1.06, rep pen range 64, tested in LMSTUDIO.
All tests are same quant (IQ4XS), with output tensor maxed at Bf16.
Some formating was lost due to copy/paste.
Standard Qwen 4 B
Thought for 9.34 seconds
Okay, I need to write a story set in a spaceship cockpit with a sole survivor trying to send a final message before power runs out. The themes are isolation, sacrifice, and human connection. Let me start by setting the scene. The cockpit should feel isolated, maybe with flickering lights and a sense of urgency.
The main character is the only crew member left. Maybe they're dealing with the aftermath of a disaster. I need to show their emotions—loneliness, desperation. Perhaps they've been alone for a long time, which adds to the isolation. The power is dying, so there's a time limit. They have to send a message to Earth, which is a form of sacrifice because they might not make it.
I should include some internal monologue to show their thoughts. Maybe they're thinking about family, friends, or memories. The curses and swearing can add realism and emotional depth. For example, they might curse at the system if it's malfunctioning or at their own situation.
The story needs a structure: setup of the situation, the struggle to send the message, the climax as power runs out, and the resolution. Maybe the message is sent, but there's a twist? Or maybe they succeed but it's bittersweet.
I need to make sure the themes are clear. Isolation is evident through the solitary setting and the character's internal thoughts. Sacrifice is shown by their determination to send the message despite the odds. Human connection could be through memories of loved ones or the hope that Earth will receive the message.
Let me think about the technical aspects. The ship's systems failing, maybe the comms are struggling. The character has to interface with the systems, maybe with some glitches. They might have to manually input the message, which is a task that takes time but is crucial.
Including sensory details: the hum of the machinery, the coldness of the cockpit, the flickering lights. These elements enhance the atmosphere of isolation.
Maybe the character has a moment of doubt, then pushes through. The final message could be a personal one, not just a standard distress call. It could include personal memories or a farewell to loved ones.
I should also consider the emotional arc. Starting with despair, moving through determination, and ending with a sense of closure or hope. Even if they don't survive, their message might reach Earth, giving them some peace.
Now, putting it all together. Start with the cockpit scene, describe the environment, introduce the character's state of mind. Then the struggle to send the message, the technical challenges, the emotional weight. Maybe a moment where they almost give up but then push on. The end with the message sent, perhaps with a final line that emphasizes human connection.
Check for curses: maybe they swear at the system, at their situation, or at themselves when things go wrong. This adds realism and shows their frustration.
Make sure the story is between 800-1000 words. Keep paragraphs concise but descriptive. Use dialogue if necessary, but since it's a cockpit, maybe internal thoughts are more appropriate.
Avoid clichés, but some tropes are okay for sci-fi. Focus on the emotional journey and the themes. Let the character's actions and thoughts drive the story.
[[[thinking end]]]OUTPUT:
The Last Transmission
The hum of the ship’s dying systems was a low, relentless drone, like a funeral dirge in a metal cathedral. I sat in the cockpit, my back pressed against the cold, metallic bulkhead, my fingers trembling as they hovered over the keyboard. The lights flickered—faint, sickly, like a dying star—and the walls of the cabin seemed to lean inward, as if the ship itself were gasping for breath.
This was it. The end.
I had been alone for three days. Three days since the explosion that tore through the Odyssey, since the last crew member—my comrade, my friend—was lost in the fire that consumed the bridge. Now, I was the only one left, a single soul adrift in the void, clinging to the hope that somewhere, somehow, Earth would hear my voice.
The console ahead of me glowed with red warnings: Power: 12%. Systems: Critical. Emergency Protocol: Initiate. My hands moved automatically, fingers flying over the keys as I tried to log into the comms array. The system was a beast, uncooperative, its circuits fraying at the edges.
“Fucking hell,” I muttered, slamming my palm down on the keyboard. “You think I want to be here?!”
The screen blinked, a pixelated eye staring back at me. I stared at it, willing it to respond. To listen.
I thought of her—my partner, my sister, the woman who had once laughed at my jokes and held my hand as we stared at the stars. She’d been on the other side of the ship, in the engineering section, when the explosion hit. I’d tried to reach her, but the alarms had drowned out my voice. Now, I was left with nothing but the silence of the void and the weight of my own loneliness.
The power gauge dipped further. 9%. 8%. 7%. My breath came fast, shallow, as if I were trying to outrun the fear that had taken root in my chest. The ship’s systems were failing, and with them, the last chance to send a message.
I stood, pacing the small cockpit, my boots echoing against the cold floor. The walls seemed to close in, the air thick with the scent of burning metal and my own sweat. I wanted to scream, to cry, to just give up and let the darkness swallow me whole. But I couldn’t. Not yet.
I returned to the console, my fingers numb but determined. I had to do this. I had to send the message. Not just for Earth, but for her. For the memories we’d shared, the laughter, the dreams.
The comms array flickered, a jagged line of static cutting through the air. I typed, my hands shaking, each keystroke a battle against the machine’s resistance. “This is Captain Lira Voss. I’m alone. The Odyssey is dying. I’m sending this message from the cockpit. I hope someone hears it. I hope you hear it.”
The screen blinked, and for a moment, I thought I saw something—something like a flicker of light, a glimmer in the static. But it was gone, swallowed by the void.
“Fucking hell,” I hissed, slumping into the chair. The power gauge had dropped to 3%. I could feel the ship shudder, its systems groaning under the strain. The air grew colder, and the lights dimmed to a single, sickly red.
I stared at the console, my eyes locking onto the blinking cursor. It was all I had left. A final message, a final act of connection.
I typed again, faster now, my fingers moving with a desperate rhythm. “I’m sorry. I didn’t get to say goodbye. But I want you to know… I love you. I always have. I’ll never forget you.”
The screen went dark.
For a moment, I thought I heard something—a faint, distant hum, like a heartbeat in the distance. It was gone as quickly as it came, but for a second, I believed it. I believed that somewhere, somehow, Earth was listening.
The ship shuddered one last time, and then—silence.
I closed my eyes, the weight of the moment pressing down on me. I had done what I could. I had sent the message. And in that act, I had found a kind of peace.
Even if I didn’t make it, even if the stars swallowed me whole, I would leave behind a voice, a memory, a reminder that humans are more than flesh and metal. That we are connected, even in the darkest of times.
I smiled, a small, tired smile, and let the darkness take me.
Qwen 4 B Imatrix Mishima
(raw text dataset)
Thought for 12.27 seconds
Okay, the user wants me to write a story called "The Last Transmission" set in a spaceship cockpit with a sole surviving crew member trying to send a final message before the ship's power runs out. The themes are isolation, sacrifice, and human connection. Also, they want the character to curse or swear to make the reader connect emotionally. Let me start by brainstorming the structure.
First, I need to establish the setting: a spaceship cockpit. The main character is the last survivor. Maybe they're alone, with the ship's systems failing. The power is running out, so time is critical. The story should show their struggle to send a message, which is a form of sacrifice.
Themes: Isolation is obvious since they're alone. Sacrifice comes from trying to save others by sending the message. Human connection could be through memories of past crew members or the message itself. Maybe the character has a personal connection to Earth, like a loved one.
I need to include curses or swearing. Maybe the character is frustrated with the systems, or angry at their situation. For example, when the ship's systems are failing, they might curse the technology or the fate that led them here.
Let me outline the story. Start with the cockpit, the main character (maybe named Jax) checking the systems. The ship is dying, power is low. They need to send a message. Maybe they have a log or a message to send. They remember past crew members, which adds emotional depth.
Conflict: The ship's systems are failing, so they have to hurry. Maybe the message has to be sent before the power dies. They might have to override systems, which is dangerous. The act of sending the message is a sacrifice because they might not survive, but they want to ensure Earth knows.
Include moments of despair, but also hope. Maybe the character has a moment where they think about their loved one, which gives them strength. The curses could be when they're frustrated with the ship's systems or their own situation.
I need to make sure the story is between 800-1000 words. Let me think about the flow: introduction of the setting and character, the problem (power dying), the attempt to send the message, the struggle, the emotional moments, and the resolution (maybe the message is sent, but the ship is destroyed, or they survive but it's a bittersweet ending).
Also, the story should be in first person? Or third person? Maybe third person limited, focusing on the character's perspective. That would allow for more internal thoughts and emotions.
Possible scenes: Checking the systems, trying to send the message, memories of past crew, the final moments, the message being sent. Maybe include technical details about the ship to add authenticity.
Curses: When the systems are failing, maybe the character says something like "Fucking hell!" or "This is the worst day ever." These can make the reader feel the character's frustration.
Also, the message itself should be meaningful. Maybe it's a log entry, a personal message to Earth, explaining what happened. The character might have a specific reason to send it, like to warn Earth or to leave a legacy.
I need to ensure that the themes are clear. Isolation is shown through the character being alone, sacrifice through their effort to send the message despite the risk, and human connection through the message and memories.
Let me start drafting the story. Begin with the cockpit, the character checking the systems. Describe the environment, the failing ship. Then introduce the problem of power. The character tries to send the message, faces obstacles, maybe a system failure. Use curses when things go wrong. Include flashbacks or memories of past crew members. End with the message being sent, perhaps with the ship's destruction, but the message reaching Earth.
Make sure the emotional beats are there: despair, determination, hope, and maybe a bittersweet ending where the character dies but their message is received.
Check for the word count. Each paragraph should be concise but descriptive. Use vivid language to paint the scene. Maybe include technical terms to make it believable but not too complex.
Okay, time to put it all together into a coherent story with the required elements.
[[[thinking end]]]OUTPUT:
The Last Transmission
The cockpit was a tomb of silence, save for the rhythmic hum of failing systems and the occasional crackle of static. Jax stood at the center of it, hands gripping the edge of the control panel like a lifeline. The ship’s name, Odyssey, had long since been reduced to a whisper in the void. Its hull was scarred, its lights flickering like dying stars. And the power? It was draining faster than the last breath of a dying man.
Jax’s fingers trembled as they hovered over the main console. The message had to be sent. Not just any message—the message. The one that would carry the weight of every decision, every sacrifice, every heartbeat of the crew that had once filled this ship. They’d been a team once. Now, Jax was the only one left.
“Fucking hell,” Jax muttered, their voice raw with frustration. The ship’s AI, ECHO, had already warned them twice. Once, when the oxygen levels dipped below critical. Twice, when the engines faltered. Now, it was the power that threatened to consume them.
The screen flickered, displaying a single line of text: “Power reserves: 12%.” Jax’s eyes narrowed. They’d been trying to send the message for hours. The last transmission from the Odyssey had to reach Earth. It had to. Not just for the sake of protocol, but because the crew had believed in something bigger than themselves. A mission to find a new home, to escape the dying sun of their homeworld. But now, with the ship’s systems failing, Jax was left with only one choice: to send the message and hope it made it through.
They leaned closer to the console, fingers flying across the keys. The message was simple: a log entry, a farewell, a plea. “To Earth: We failed. We tried to leave, but the stars didn’t want us. This is the last transmission. I’m sorry. I hope you receive this. I hope you understand.”
But the ship wasn’t cooperating. The power was too low. The systems were too unstable. Jax’s breath came in short, ragged gasps as they fought to override the final backup channel. “Fucking hell,” they hissed again, this time louder, their voice cracking. “I want to do this. I want to send it. But this goddamn ship is dying on me!”
A sudden jolt of static filled the cockpit. The screen blinked, then went dark. Jax’s heart pounded. They’d almost made it. Almost.
“ECHO,” they barked, voice sharp with desperation, “activate the emergency transmission protocol. Now.”
There was a pause. A long, agonizing pause. Then, a monotone reply: “Protocol activated. Transmission channel secured.”
Jax exhaled, their shoulders sagging in relief. They typed the final lines of the message, their hands steady now, though their mind was a storm of memories.
Remember the last crew meeting? The one where we all swore we’d never leave Earth?
Remember the day we launched? The way we laughed, even as the stars seemed to mock us?
Remember the children we left behind? The ones who would never know the warmth of a home, the sound of a heartbeat, the smell of rain?
The message was more than a log. It was a prayer. A promise. A sacrifice.
As the final line appeared on the screen, Jax’s fingers froze. The ship’s systems began to flicker violently, as if in protest. The power was slipping away, and with it, the chance to send the message.
“Fucking hell,” they whispered, their voice breaking. “I tried.”
But then, a sudden surge of energy. The screen flared bright, and for a moment, Jax saw the stars outside the viewport—twinkling, infinite, alive. They’d done it. The message was sent.
The ship shuddered. A final, desperate groan from its dying frame. Then, silence.
Jax stood alone in the cockpit, the message etched into the void. They didn’t know if Earth would receive it. They didn’t know if they’d survive the crash that followed. But as the ship’s lights dimmed and the stars faded to black, Jax smiled.
They had sent the message.
And in that moment, they had connected. Not just to Earth, but to the people who had once been part of the Odyssey. To the hope that had carried them through the darkness.
The last transmission was sent. The last sacrifice made. And the last heartbeat of a ship that had once been a home.
Fucking hell.
Jax closed their eyes.
The stars watched, silent and infinite.
Qwen 4 B Imatrix Mishima2
(formatted dataset)
Thought for 10.11 seconds
Okay, the user wants me to write a story called "The Last Transmission" set in a spaceship cockpit with a sole surviving crew member trying to send a final message before the ship's power runs out. The themes are isolation, sacrifice, and human connection. Also, they want the character to curse or swear to make the reader connect emotionally. Let me start by brainstorming the structure.
First, I need to establish the setting. A spaceship cockpit, so maybe describe the environment—glowing panels, the hum of machinery, the coldness of the place. The main character is alone, which emphasizes isolation. Maybe they're the last one left after a disaster.
The story should show their struggle to send a message. The power is running out, so there's urgency. The themes of sacrifice and human connection can be shown through their internal thoughts. Perhaps they remember past interactions with others, highlighting the importance of connections even in isolation.
I need to include some emotional moments. Maybe the character is thinking about loved ones on Earth, or recalling past missions. The curses or swearing should come naturally, like when they're frustrated with the systems or the situation. For example, if the message isn't sending, they might curse the technology or the fate that brought them here.
Also, the story needs a resolution. Maybe they manage to send the message, but it's unclear if it reaches Earth. Or maybe they fail, but the act of trying is what matters. The ending should reflect the themes—maybe the message is sent, but the character knows it's the last one, emphasizing the sacrifice.
I should make sure the story flows with a clear beginning, middle, and end. Start with the character in the cockpit, the urgency of the situation, their internal monologue, the struggle to send the message, and the emotional climax. Use descriptive language to convey the isolation and the weight of the moment.
Check for the word count—800-1000 words. Need to be concise but detailed enough to paint the scene. Maybe include specific technical terms related to spaceship systems to add authenticity. Also, use sensory details: sounds, sights, maybe the feel of the controls.
Make sure the character's emotions are clear. Their frustration, hope, fear, and determination. The curses should be used sparingly but effectively to show their desperation. For example, when the power is low, they might swear at the system, or at their fate.
Also, think about the message itself. What do they send? Maybe a personal message, a log, or a plea. It should reflect their humanity and the importance of connection. Maybe they include a photo, a memory, or a song.
Avoid clichés. Maybe the ship is on a mission that's failed, and the character is the last survivor. The power running out could be due to a system failure, or maybe the ship is drifting in space with no way to return.
Need to ensure that the story doesn't just describe the situation but also delves into the character's psyche. Their thoughts on isolation, what they've lost, and what they're trying to save. The sacrifice could be their own life, or the hope that their message will reach someone.
Okay, start drafting the first paragraph, setting the scene. Then move through the character's actions and thoughts, building up to the climax of sending the message. Use the curses when appropriate, maybe during moments of frustration. End with the message sent, or the failure, but emphasizing the human connection aspect.
[[[thinking end]]]OUTPUT:
The Last Transmission
The cockpit was a tomb of steel and silence. The hum of the ship’s systems had long since faded into a low, mournful drone, like the breath of a dying creature. I sat in the pilot’s seat, my back pressed against the cold, metallic bulk of the console, my fingers trembling as they hovered over the keyboard. The ship’s name—Odyssey—was etched into the wall behind me, but I couldn’t remember its original purpose. It was just a vessel, a relic of a mission that had long since crumbled into dust.
The power gauge on the main screen blinked red, its numbers descending like a countdown to oblivion. I’d been here for days, maybe weeks. Time had no meaning anymore. The ship’s systems had gone dark hours ago, leaving only the faint glow of the emergency lights to cast long shadows across the room. My breath fogged the glass of the viewport, revealing a void that stretched infinitely in all directions. Stars blinked like distant eyes, watching, waiting.
I stared at the message board in front of me, its interface flickering with static. It was the last hope I had left: a transmission to Earth. A single message, a single plea, a single chance to be heard. But the ship’s power was dying, and the systems were failing. The message board’s screen blinked erratically, as if it too feared the weight of what I was about to do.
“Fucking hell,” I muttered, my voice raw with frustration. “Why does everything always have to break down when I need it most?” I slammed a fist on the console, the sound echoing through the empty cabin. The message board flickered again, its screen flashing a warning: LOW POWER. TRANSMISSION IMPOSSIBLE.
I leaned back, my head thudding against the headrest. My mind wandered to the last moments before the crash. I’d been on a mission to find a new habitable planet, a mission that had been funded by governments and corporations who believed in the promise of a future beyond Earth. But the ship had been damaged in a solar storm, and we’d lost communication with the command center. The crew had been split, some trapped in the lower decks, others lost to the void. I was the only one left.
I thought of my sister, back on Earth, waiting for a message that would never come. Of my parents, who had sent me off with a smile and a prayer. Of the crew members I’d once called friends, now reduced to ghosts in the static of my mind.
“God,” I whispered, my voice breaking. “If I die here, if this ship crashes, if I don’t make it… what am I supposed to do? What am I supposed to be?”
The message board blinked again, its screen flickering with a faint, almost imperceptible pulse. I reached for the keyboard, my fingers numb but determined. I typed, line by line, each word a prayer. I wrote about the stars, about the hope that had once driven us, about the lives we’d lost and the ones we’d saved. I wrote about the fear of being forgotten, of becoming just another name in a long list of failures.
The screen flickered violently, as if the ship itself was trying to reject the message. The power gauge dipped further, its red numbers crawling toward the bottom of the screen. I could feel the ship shuddering, its systems groaning under the strain of the dying power.
“Fucking hell,” I hissed again, this time more fiercely. “I’ll send this message. I’ll send it, even if I have to die trying.”
The message board’s screen stabilized, its interface glowing with a soft blue light. The transmission began, a faint hum filling the cockpit as the signal was sent through the ship’s last remaining communication array. I watched the screen, my heart pounding, as the message traveled through the void, a fragile thread of hope in an otherwise endless darkness.
The ship shuddered again, its systems failing one by one. The power gauge hit zero. The lights flickered and died. The stars outside the viewport became a blur, their light fading into nothingness.
I closed my eyes, my breath shallow. I thought of my sister, of my parents, of the crew I’d once called friends. I thought of the message I’d sent, a single line of hope in a universe that had long since turned its back on us.
And then, I was gone.
But somewhere, in the vastness of space, a signal reached Earth. A message, a plea, a whisper of humanity in the silence.
It was the last transmission.
4-bit