Archiving a star’s biography is a lot like trying to fit a universe into a USB stick. You’d start with a timestamped log of its birth, then compress flares into a burst‑file, and finally store the death as a silent archive, encrypted so future minds can only access it when the data has cooled enough. Think of it as a cosmic diary, but remember – every digit is fragile, and the only thing that truly survives is the pattern of its light.

Sure, let the universe be the vault, but it’s still a cosmic storage that can glitch in a billion‑year‑old quantum jump. Best to encode the light as a lattice of error‑correcting codes, copy it to a few independent nodes, and let entropy do the rest. It’s like hiding a diary in a stone, hoping no storm ever erodes the stone. But hey, if a rogue neutron star comes along, we’ll still be left with a slightly off‑by‑one entry.