A lone astronaut floats motionless inside a dim, humming capsule, Earth glowing blue-white through the small window behind him as the camera slowly pushes in on his reflective visor. Warning lights pulse red across the control panel, casting sharp flickers over his calm, focused face. He exhales, fogging the glass for a split second, then reaches forward and steadies a floating tablet displaying live orbital data. The camera drifts in a slow orbit around him, weightless debris of paper and tools tumbling past in slow motion, silence broken only by the soft mechanical breathing of the suit. Suddenly the capsule light shifts to a clean white glow as the Earth's sunrise floods through the window, washing over his face in gold light. He looks directly into the lens, steady and unblinking, as the hum fades to total silence and the screen slowly whites out.