All These Worlds (Bobiverse, #3)

by Dennis E. Taylor

I rubbed my forehead. “We’re at, what? Eighty-two ships? Maybe we reach a hundred before it gets too difficult to find any more materials. Forty years per round-trip, average. That’s two point five ships per year. So twenty five thousand people per year. Five hundred and sixty years to finish the job.”

“Jeez, Bob. A friend that you’ve known for almost seventy years just died. What were you expecting? To just shrug and move on? This is life, dude. The sucky part, anyway.” “We’re not alive.” “Yeah, we are. We’re not biological any more, but we’re still alive. We make friends, we grieve, we apparently still fall in love… Let it happen. Mourn. And don’t get all bent out of shape when other people don’t mourn as deeply. They have their own lives.”