The space station was grey. Grey people in grey suits worked away their grey lives away within its grey hulls and walls. They mined grey minerals from grey asteroids.
Every aspect of their lives was weighed and measured, even the air that they breathed. They had travelled three hundred and ninety million miles from the Earth to live and work efficiently.
So much for the wonders of space travel.
Maryse was spending another grey evening staring into her grey walls. She could not even see the stars. Her tedium was broken by a tune she remembered.
She hummed meekly at first before it grew into something enthusiastic and freeing. Maryse found herself standing on her small cot singing, dancing, and smiling.
An idea came to her in that wonderful moment.
It was difficult to organise. Everyone and everything were so closely monitored on the station. Everything coming onto the station was necessary and weighed.
The workers time was maximised for efficiency. The slightest change in air usage was noted. Slowly she managed to put a band together she could trust.
Here and there they managed to gather materials, bits and pieces of waste, broken items they could use. Most importantly they found a way to hack into the station's sound system.
On another grey day, the sound system played out the indicator that there was to be an announcement. What followed was something remarkable.
It started with a beat, a lively rhythm, and a melody, the music of space. In the grey corridors people danced and remembered what they had left behind. The bosses shut it down all too quickly.
But they could not hide the fact anymore that leaving Earth and heading to the stars has no purpose if we don't take the best of home with us.