All Maya could hear were the sirens blaring around her. With each screech she felt herself jump, her trembling filling the temporary, one second bliss of silence in between. All she could see was the red beam of light from the flashing alarm in the otherwise dark, empty room. All she could feel was the skin on her arms, damp with sweat. All she could smell was smoke. She tried to tell herself to breathe, to stop trying to claw her hands against her arms, but to no avail. As her world crashed around her, she slowly let her fear and panic overwhelm her. Just a few minutes prior, everything had seemed fine. She had been out on the ship’s courtyard with her father. “How have you been Maya? It’s seemed like forever since I’ve been able to talk to you.” Had been the start of their conversation. Maya couldn’t help but smile up at him. It was true her parents were busy people, but she didn’t mind, she knew they were important to the colony. Behind her, Maya could hear children playing on the fake-wood playground, mechanical birds singing and simulated wind whistling through the various trees scattered across the atrium. She didn’t feel any need to join them though, too entranced by the story her father was telling. At one point, he tugged her along to look through one of the massive windows that lined the entire courtyard. No matter how many times she’d seen it, she couldn’t help but admire the beautiful cosmos that lined everything outside. “...Did you know that the term astronaut means star sailor? That’s why I call you my little sailor.” He suddenly said after a beat of mutual silence, looking to be admiring the outside view himself. “Yes!” Maya perked up. “Mrs. Denvers taught us that.” Her father stopped, eyes widening, and he gently shook her with his free hand. Up close, Maya couldn’t help but look at the beautiful embroidery that lined his uniform. “Oh, that reminds me! Your graduation is coming up soon! Are you excited, dear?” Maya couldn’t help but fold in on herself. “What is it? Are you nervous?” When she didn’t say anything, he squeezed her hand, and with his other he made a stop motion to someone behind her. She turned to look, but her father stopped her. “Don’t be. Leaving what you know can be scary. But I promise that everything will turn out okay. Plus, middle school will be fun! And all of your friends will still be with you.” Maya nodded again. “Thanks, dad. I really–” Before she could say anything further, she was interrupted by a voice behind her. “Captain, we must speak with you.” He sighed, standing back up to his full height. “Can this not wait?” “No, sir. It’s urgent. We received a response to our message. The…” The guard shot a glance at Maya, nervously flicking his eyes to both her and her father, “the, um… correspondents… Weren’t too happy about your request.” Maya looked back up to her dad, watching as his brows furrowed. He leaned over to the guard, allowing him to whisper in his ear. A few words were exchanged between them, and Maya’s father grimaced as he pulled back towards her. Kneeling back down to her eye level, he smiled at her softly. “Maya, would you go to my office please?" Maya looked at him with wide eyes. “Dad? What?” “You know your mother and I love you very much, right?” “Yeah, I know– why are you–” “Don’t forget that, okay?” He smiled again, and shooed her off. “Goodbye, Maya.” Without another word, Maya slowly backed away. When her father's smile fell from his face, she started running. When she made it to his office, tucked away in a back corner of the ship, there was nothing wrong. The office was dark, and everything was in its place. Slowly, she stepped in, one foot after the other. She couldn’t help but jump when the door suddenly shut and the ship’s lockdown sequence started, trapping her inside and blaring a red alarm in the corner of the room. She ran to the door, pounding on it and screaming for help. There was no one. She finally quit when a light smell of smoke hit her senses. She wasn’t sure where it was coming from, and nothing seemed off besides the alarm screeching next to her. Maya backed into the middle of the room and crawled into the crevice in front of her father’s desk, beginning to weep into her crossed arms. What felt like hours went by, and still, there was nobody. Until the door finally opened. She gasped when she saw it was her family’s nanny bot. “Nanni!” The bot opened its arms, and Maya ran into them. “Nanni– what’s going on?” She cried. The bot gently wiped away her tears. Most of its body was made of sleek, silvery metal, but it's silicone fingertips had always been comforting. Gently pushing her back into the room, Nanni closed the door. “Maya. Everything will be okay.” “Why won’t anyone answer me!” She yelled. “Where’s dad? Where’s mom?” The robot let out a mechanical sigh. It didn’t have much of a face, mostly being smooth pieces of metal joined together in a geometric design, but Maya could’ve thought it looked sad. “To be quite honest, I don’t really know. I have simply been tasked to protect you by your father, like I always have been.” Nanni continued to wipe away Maya’s falling tears, it’s warm chassis chasing away the cold air against her arms as she hugged it. “Whatever it is, I shall be here for you. I shall guide you. I shall make sure nothing gets to you.” Maya sniffed, and nodded. “What… What do we do now, then?” “For now, we’ll stay in your father’s study. And we’ll wait. Understand?” “Yes.” She said. “Good.” If Nanni could’ve smiled, Maya bet it would have.

You know, I’ve always loved space. I love how pretty it is, I love how big and expansive it is, and I love that despite feeling so small in the grand scheme of things, looking up at the night sky always makes me feel connected to everything around me. I love space, and as a result I always try to capture it in my art. It’s what I’m good at, after all. I try to paint the twinkling stars, weave the colors of the milky way together with thread, build up the sun with the clay in my hands-- I try to emulate everything I love with everything I’m good for. As an art student, I was expected to pursue that passion for the rest of my life. Not the space part, no, but the other part. The part that I myself thought that I would hold close to my chest forever. I love art, I loved art. I was built for it, supposedly, and I did have that drive for a while. I had always figured that I would go to college for art, that I would pursue it professionally and live doing that same thing everyday (it would’ve been costume design, probably). At one point in my life, the idea had even excited me. I don’t even know what happened. One day I guess finally realized that despite everything I’ve done, everything I’ve worked for, I just really didn’t want to go to school for art, or do it for the rest of my life for money. Art, all this time, was really just a hobby, and realizing that only after all that time made me feel like I failed myself. It almost felt like I had to reshape the way I thought about myself after. I thought I was so confident about my ambitions that the idea that I wasn’t left me floundering. It’s kind of funny in hindsight about how dramatic I was over everything, but at the time it had felt almost crushing knowing that my biggest goal had basically been trashed. It almost felt like I had to start over. What else could I love like I loved art? What else could I dedicate my life to? A few months later, I found my answer. It was kind of cliche how I finally began to realize there was more for me-- there was more to me. I had come home from work. It was late, I was tired, and I wanted to go inside and sleep forever. But I didn’t. Instead I just looked up at the sky, forlorn. It was pretty. I hadn’t recognized most of the stars as I was more familiar with the ones that came around wintertime, but I still enjoyed looking at them. I always get existential when I stargaze, and once again I thought back to my ongoing identity crisis. "Art, art, art, what would I do without art, right?" Kept repeating in my head. Well, I finally thought, I can always do something else? I can try something new, something I already have an appreciation for? (Like space, maybe.) It was a simple solution, and why I hadn’t considered it before, I don’t know. But I thought about it. Slowly, over another few months, I allowed myself to step outside my comfort zone and realize that I can do more than what was expected of me. I wasn’t a failure for realizing new things about myself, and it wasn’t too late for me to branch out. I could do whatever I put my mind to, really.