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Sorkovsky laughed, "You already spend too much time staring out the window, maybe your feet hurting is your body's way of telling you to do something more constructive with your free time."
"Yeah, yeah. You sound like a broken record Wil, and I don't understand it. Our fathers' never got to see this sight. Our grandfather's watched as their dead world receded into the cold darkness of space, unsure if this ship would ever find a new home. Here we are, orbiting a new world, one that could sustain every man, woman, and child on this ship, and become humanity's new home-"
"And you spend every last free moment looking at it like some kind of love-struck teen. Marcus, I get it, this is a big deal, but staring out the window isn't going to make the environmental surveys come back any faster. It's not going to accelerate the nano fabricators to built habitats faster once they get launched. All you are doing it torturing yourself."
Marcus shook his head, "No, you don't understand. My friend, what occupation do I have?"
"You are a historian," Wil answered obligingly.
"Yes. Exactly." Marcus turned his head to look at his friend, "And in my lifetime what other event could I ever hope to see that will be recorded, studied, and remembered as much as this one?" He looked down at the planet once more, "My friend, I haven't taken free time since we made orbit. I am working overtime."