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Meadow Hastings never thought she'd leave Earth. She had grown up in a quiet rural town surrounded by fields of wildflowers and endless blue skies. Her parents were pragmatic farmers who taught her the value of hard work, though their idea of "hard work" never aligned with hers. For them, life was about tending the fields, balancing the budget, and staying firmly grounded in reality.

But Meadow's heart belonged to the intangible.

Music had always been her first love. Her older sister Ivy, a self-taught pianist, had inspired Meadow to pick up the guitar. At thirteen, Meadow spent hours strumming clumsy chords, often under Ivy's watchful eye. Ivy had been her champion, always pushing her to dream big.

Don't let this place hold you back, Meadow," Ivy would say, her fingers dancing over the piano keys. "There's a whole universe out there waiting for someone like you."

But Ivy's dreams were cut short. At twenty-three, she gave up music after a series of dead-end gigs. She returned home, trading her piano for spreadsheets and an accounting job in the nearest city. Meadow watched the light in her sister dim, and it terrified her.
When Meadow turned twenty, she made the decision Ivy never could. With her guitar slung over her shoulder and a worn notebook of original songs, she boarded a shuttle to Mars.

Her parents had been supportive in their own way, though her father's parting words still lingered in her mind: "Don't let your head get too far in the clouds, kid."

Now, a year into her life on Mars, Meadow was beginning to understand the weight of those words.