Orbital

Six astronauts and cosmonauts live aboard a space station, orbiting Earth every 90 minutes. They come from different countries—America, Japan, Britain, Italy, and Russia—but share the same confined space, floating in weightlessness as they carry out their daily tasks. They sleep in small compartments, eat pre-packaged meals, and exercise for hours each day to counteract the effects of microgravity. Outside, the planet turns beneath them, revealing vast oceans, glowing city lights, and the swirling clouds of a growing typhoon in the Pacific.

Roman, a Russian cosmonaut, wakes early and watches the sunrise from the lab window. He keeps track of his time in space, counting how many days he has spent in orbit, how often he changes clothes, and how many sunrises he has seen. Chie, an astronaut from Japan, is grieving the recent loss of her mother. A few days earlier, she shared the news with the crew, who struggled to find the right words to say. Now, she watches Earth pass below, thinking about how far she is from home. Anton, another Russian cosmonaut, focuses on the scientific work aboard the station. He and Roman conduct studies on heart cells, tracking how weightlessness affects the body over time. Though the work is important, Anton knows that when he returns to Earth, his own body will suffer the same deterioration. He notices a lump on his neck but refuses to report it, fearing it will cut his mission short.

The crew receives news that a lunar mission has launched, making them no longer the farthest humans from Earth. While ground control jokes about them being “yesterday’s news,” their isolation remains unchanged. They continue their routine—conducting experiments, maintaining the spacecraft, and monitoring the storm below. Nell, a British astronaut, receives an email from her brother about having the flu and realizes she hasn’t been sick in years. In space, time feels different, and the world below seems both familiar and distant.

As they orbit, their view of Earth shifts constantly. They watch the continents change beneath them, the Amazon burning, and the polar ice reflecting sunlight. The typhoon strengthens, heading toward the Philippines. Pietro, the Italian astronaut, remembers meeting a fisherman there years ago and wonders if he is in the storm’s path. The crew captures images of the storm, but all they can do is observe. At night, they float in their sleeping bags, listening to the hum of the spacecraft. They talk about the comforts of Earth—fresh air, uneven ground, the feeling of weight against their bodies. Over time, the space station begins to feel more like home, and their families on Earth feel more distant.

Aboard the station, the astronauts perform cognitive tests to measure how space is affecting their perception. They count seconds, track moving objects, and complete virtual-reality tasks. The results show their sense of time is slipping. Meanwhile, they continue their work, studying microbes, tending to mice in the experiment modules, and maintaining the ship’s systems. The station moves over Japan, and Chie looks down at the land where her mother’s house once stood. A few days earlier, her mother lay outside, listening to the last call of a cicada before passing away. Now, Chie watches the landscape from space, knowing she will never see her mother again.

As the typhoon makes landfall, the crew gathers at the viewing windows, watching its massive swirl of clouds. They know people below are evacuating, but many have nowhere to go. As they continue their orbit, night falls, and the storm disappears from view. The station moves over the South Pacific, the Earth’s horizon glowing faintly in the darkness. As their orbit continues, the crew thinks about the world they left behind, the missions ahead, and the unknowns beyond. For now, they remain in low Earth orbit, watching as the planet turns beneath them, their spacecraft continuing its endless path through the dark.