We'll never know for sure what the final mark of the untamed bridge will be, until we cross it or, as I shall, burn it. Until the time come's all we can do is what we are, waiting for the moment to strike but in our hubris, thinking we will, when we surely won't. It's not for us to do, but the next body our serialised being shall occupy without matter, memory of spirit of the prior, in long line of duty from whence we have been and circularly shall go again, if they permit. 

I'll never bring myself to do it, but knowing the opportunity is there is often enough to make do. You have been warned.