Beyond the dappled sea spray on the bedroom window, escape craft and their blue contrails sweep past the Arcology as beams of orange light punctuate the sky. They cut through contrails with certainty, and before long, each craft erupts in blossoms of fire and brilliant warmth. No one is leaving Titan. Nadia Jahandar is not leaving. She has a cup of tea cooling on the windowsill, a collection of her late brother's poetry on her tablet, and the recording of her last piano recital playing on her headphones. The roar of the apocalypse accompanies her. She looks away from the window. I stepped into the stars Because the seas were explored No dragons on our maps Islanded in a sea of night Though it could never be home No hearths in the gulf Nadia reaches for her tea, glancing out the window to watch the sea rise up in a kilometers-high wall. It casts a shadow so long, it throws the Arcology into darkness. She will tell her brother that this poem is her favorite.