Orbital

On the space station, the astronauts continue their routine as solar flares erupt from the sun, creating a protective effect that shields them from more dangerous cosmic radiation. As the sun’s energy pulses outward, the crew performs their daily maintenance tasks—Shaun collects trash, Roman and Pietro clean the toilets, Anton tends to the air purification system, Chie wipes down surfaces, and Nell vacuums air vents, finding small objects caught in the filters.

In the quiet that follows, Chie looks out a window, thinking of her mother’s upcoming funeral and how the ashes will soon be scattered in Japan. Meanwhile, Roman and Anton work in the Russian module, with Anton quietly worrying about a lump on his neck that he refuses to report, fearing it could cut short both his mission and the missions of two others who would have to return with him. As they orbit over Cape Town, Pietro checks for news on the typhoon, now classified as a super-typhoon, and wonders about the fate of the Filipino family he met years ago.

As the crew winds down for the evening, they gather for dinner in the Russian module, sharing preserved Russian foods and reminiscing about childhood. Chie recalls Japanese candy shops, Anton and Roman reminisce about condensed-milk sweets, and Pietro mentions Italian milk candies. While they exchange stories, they momentarily forget the isolation of space.

Later, Roman makes contact with a woman named Therese through the radio. She is surprised to be speaking to a cosmonaut and shares a personal story about feeling “crestfallen”—a sense of existential doubt she once experienced while brushing her teeth on a long-haul flight. She wonders if astronauts ever feel the same way. Roman tells her that, despite the loneliness and exhaustion, he never feels crestfallen in space. Before the signal cuts out, Therese briefly mentions her husband’s recent death, leaving Roman unable to respond before their connection is lost.

Meanwhile, Shaun receives an email asking him to write about how this new era of space travel is shaping the future of humanity. Struggling to form an answer, he jokes with Pietro, who cynically responds that the future of space travel is entirely in the hands of billionaires. As they talk, Shaun hands Pietro the postcard from his wife, which features Velázquez’s Las Meninas. Pietro, after some thought, decides the real subject of the painting is the dog in the foreground—the only figure in the complex composition that is neither looking nor being looked at, making it the only thing truly free. This observation shifts Shaun’s entire perception of the painting, leading him to see it not as a tangled web of human interactions, but as a quiet portrait of an animal unburdened by human concerns.