Of course. Here are several options, each aiming for a different subgenre or feeling:

**For a story about humanity, memory, and loss:**
It’s a peculiar thing to mourn a person who still exists, but that’s what happens when they sell their memories for starship fuel.

**For a high-concept, mind-bending thriller:**
The first law of time travel is that you can't; the second is that someone already has.

**For a gritty, cyberpunk noir:**
My therapist says I need to stop referring to my younger self as a ‘previous build,’ but he doesn’t have to live with the beta-version’s code still running in his subconscious.

**For a story of cosmic scale and generational struggle:**
The ship had been singing its death-song for three generations, a low, resonant hum that had become the only lullaby our children ever knew.

**For a humorous but dark political satire:**
The alien ambassador was supposed to be invulnerable, which made the janitor’s job of cleaning him off the ceiling a particularly delicate political matter.

**For a classic sense of wonder and mystery:**
By the time the final message from Earth reached us, we had forgotten what language it was in, or even who we had been.
