In Slaughterhouse-Five, Vonnegut’s novel about the firebombing of Dresden - which he survived as a prisoner of war - the phrase follows every death, more than a hundred times. The alien Tralfamadorians, who see all moments of time at once, believe the dead are simply alive in other moments; “so it goes” is their shrug. Is the phrase acceptance, numbness or protest? Readers still argue. Its flat repetition makes us feel the weight of each death the words refuse to dramatise. It echoes Stoic acceptance of what we cannot change, while asking the harder question: when does acceptance turn into indifference?