The funeral for Archimedes was huge. It was not just his family; almost every living Deltan had been affected by him, one way or another. By the time the procession was over, Archimedes was covered in white flowers. When the family moved in to fill in the grave, I asked them if I could have some time. Everyone looked at Buster, who nodded. Archimedes and I had been inseparable for twenty Earth years—about eighteen years on Eden. It was a reasonable request.
