When I was much much younger, starting toward making the transition from young child toward teenager, I was the sort of person who read a lot of science fiction but had almost stopped reading fantasy, because "that's not real and I like real things." I'm familiar with what my own thoughts would have been at that age about Opportunity.

"Who cares? It's a tool that broke. It's just some wires and circuits, it's just a machine."

That I did not grow up to be that sort of person owes itself to a lot of things - a multitude of interactions with people who taught me the value of things that weren't strictly speaking true, several really good books, and a slowly-dawning awareness that some of the things that I wanted most would never be within my grasp. The person I was then would have been stunned that I'm tearing up whenever I read a tribute to our brave little rover, the little probe that could.

I'm really really glad I didn't grow up to be that person, and I can recognize that one of the constants of our world has stopped being constant - a little signpost of infinity has gone missing.

The seasons come and go but they're always there. Pharrell Williams doesn't age as the years go on because of the painting in his cellar. The waves roll up the beach forever. Capitalism is still bad. The stars in the sky still burn and twinkle when we look up to them. Two hundred gigameters away, there was a space probe trundling over the rocks and dust that had been running for so long that we _forgot it could stop doing that_.

Godspeed, Opportunity. We'll come visit you someday. I don't think you'd want to come back to Earth, I think you'd prefer that we stayed there with you. But we'll come for you. Sleep well, and when you wake again there will be others around you to celebrate your deeds.

You meant countless things to countless people, and the universe is a lesser thing now without you roaming around. Until we meet again, sweet rover.