A day inside the Oakheart Complex
Strip away the engineering and what remains is a feeling — the strange, weightless wonder of an ordinary day lived somewhere extraordinary. This is what it might be like to call low orbit home.

- Morning
Waking with the Earth below
You drift awake and push off toward the observation port. Sixteen sunrises a day means the light is always arriving from somewhere — coastlines, storms, city glow, all sliding past in silence.
- Midday
Floating through the corridors
Movement here is a glide, not a walk. You travel the length of the complex by touch and momentum, passing from ship to ship through soft-lit pressurized halls.
- Afternoon
Working in orbital labs
Experiments that could never settle on the ground bloom in microgravity. You tend to them by a window that happens to frame the entire planet.
- Evening
Growing food in microgravity
The hydroponic decks smell green and alive. You harvest leaves that grew in every direction at once, and dinner tastes like a small victory over the void.
- Night
Exploring modular spaces
The complex is never quite finished. New wings, new ports, new corners to discover — living at Oakheart means always having somewhere left to explore.
The hardest part of living in orbit was never the machine. It was daring to imagine staying.