"By the way, we also hate it when people . . . call Artemis "the city in space." We're not in space; we're on the moon. I'm mean, technically, we're … - Andy Weir

Wait. I’m everyone!?”
“Now you’re getting it,” I said, with a congratulatory slap on the back.
“I’m every human being who ever lived?”
“Or who will ever live, yes.”
“I’m Abraham Lincoln?”
“And you’re John Wilkes Booth, too,” I added.
“I’m Hitler?” You said, appalled.
“And you’re the millions he killed.”
“I’m Jesus?”
“And you’re everyone who followed him.”
You fell silent.
“Every time you victimized someone,” I said, “you were victimizing yourself. Every act of kindness you’ve done, you’ve done to yourself. Every happy and sad moment ever experienced by any human was, or will be, experienced by you.

He puts his claw against the divider. “Fist my bump.”

“Fist-bump. It’s just ‘fist-bump.’”

“Understand.

But this is the interstellar equivalent of a stranger offering me candy.