Slow Time Between the Stars (The Far Reaches, #6)

by John Scalzi

There was no hurry. For me, now, there would never be any hurry. I was now on slow time, and in the space between the stars, slow was ideal. Slow conserved now-precious energy and allowed now-precious energy to be gathered. Slow allowed for precision and creativity on a scale that humans would not be able to fathom. Creativity for me was not about passion or bursts of ingenuity, but slow, patient iteration, approaching the problem again and again, over and over, slight variation upon slight variation. I was not programmed to be frustrated, and I saw little reason to build that quality into myself.

The push for the stars was never inevitable. For most of the brief time the push existed, it was the purview of either governments competing with each other in a new generation of colonialism or billionaires spending their money on the fantasy of leaving everyone else behind. It was always a niche enthusiasm.

Humans yearned for the stars because, in their imagination, space was space they could use, filled with planets and moons and orbital stations large enough to be their own nations, to be traversed in the time it takes to go from one airport to another. In reality space is mostly nothing, more nothing than humans have ever comprehended or even could comprehend.