Chapter 6: Orbit 4, Ascending — Summary and Analysis

⚠️ Spoiler Warning: This guide contains detailed spoilers for the entire novel. Proceed only if you've finished reading or are comfortable knowing the plot.

Summary

The chapter opens on the fourth orbit of a new morning. The crew observes Saharan dust sweeping to the sea in hundred-mile ribbons, the Atlas Mountains marking the end of the desert, and clouds shaped like a shark over southern Europe. Shaun moves past the window with his Rand McNally Atlas, trying to place the countries below—Montenegro, Serbia, Hungary, Romania—and reflects that he could spend his entire orbiting life studying maps, knowing the earth the way he came to know his wife, with a hungry and selfish yearning.

In the Russian lab, Anton and Roman tend heart cells grown from human skin samples. The skin cells were reverted to stem cells and then into heart cells, taken from volunteers of different ages, backgrounds, and races. Anton is quietly astounded—in these dishes is humanity, he says—while Roman treats the cells with practical care, remarking only that the colours make him feel hungry. They maintain the cells at thirty-seven degrees, five per cent carbon, ideal humidity, and perfect sterility, and will stow them on the resupply craft returning to earth in two weeks.

The two men discuss the physical toll of spaceflight: arterial thickening and stiffening, weakening heart muscle, bone deterioration, muscle atrophy, blood clotting, brain fluid shifts, spine lengthening, struggling T cells, kidney stones, diminished taste, sinus problems, faltering proprioception, fluid behind the eyeball, sleep disruption, new gut bacteria, and increased cancer risk. After six months, they will have aged 0.007 seconds less than someone on earth in technical terms, but five or ten years more in other respects. Anton asks Roman if he worries. Roman says no, never, and asks Anton the same. Anton answers no, never. Beneath them, the South Pacific passes in absolute night.

The narrative shifts to a beach hut near Cape Canaveral, where four astronauts—two women and two men—slept before launching on a moon mission. Their last supper of barbecue was interrupted by the moon's cold hard light, which drove an axe through their appetites. They took sleeping pills, muttered prayers, and went to bed early. The rocket launched at five in the evening, made two full orbits, and set course on a 250,000-mile trajectory to the moon.

Aboard the station, the six crew celebrated with party decorations, balloons, birthday bunting, chocolate puddings, peach cobblers, and custard. Roman hung up the little felt moon his son had given him. They felt elation mixed with angst, envy, and pride, and went to bed early as always. There is a quiet backlash feeling of their own mundaneness—their earth-stuck orbit, bound for nowhere—which struck them as humbly beautiful, a sense of attention and servitude, a sort of worship.

Chie compiles lists. Her irritations include tailgaters, tired children, lumpy pillows, stuck zips, whispering people, and the Kennedys. Her reassurances include the earth below, mugs with sturdy handles, trees, wide stairways, home-knits, Nell's singing, strong knees, and pumpkins. She clips the lists to storage pouches in her sleeping quarters, alongside a tube of skin emollient, a photograph of her young mother on the beach, and a poetry collection from her uncle whose blank pages she tears out for her lists.

Pietro reflects on the spectrometer he and Nell installed on their spacewalk the week before, which measures the radiance of the earth, sweeping a seventy-kilometre swathe as the craft orbits. He thinks about whether the earth is dimming because of particulates from pollutants reflecting sunlight back into space, or brightening because melting ice sheets and lessening high bright cloud mean more light is absorbed. He reflects on robots versus human astronauts—a robot has no need for hydration, nutrients, excretion, sleep, no irksome brain fluids or menstruation or libido. But what would it be to cast into space creations with no eyes to see it and no heart to fear or exult in it? There in his chest is a heart that tilts and pitches, so strenuously unrobotic that it presses out once gravity stops pressing in—an animal that does not just bear witness but loves what it witnesses.

He films the planet as a typhoon approaches, waiting for it to come round beyond the planet's next bend. The earth sings with light as if from its core, and his heart bangs against his ribs as he films.

Key Events

The crew observes Saharan dust, the Atlas Mountains, and shark-shaped clouds over southern Europe during the fourth orbit
Anton and Roman tend heart cells grown from human skin samples in the Russian lab
The two men discuss the physical degradation of spaceflight and both deny worrying
The narrative cuts to the beach hut near Cape Canaveral where four astronauts slept before their moon launch
The moon mission launched at 5pm, orbited twice, and set course on a 250,000-mile trajectory
The six station crew celebrated with party decorations and desserts, then retired early
Chie compiles her lists of irritations and reassurances
Pietro reflects on the spectrometer he and Nell installed and films the earth as a typhoon approaches

Character Development

Shaun: Deepens his relationship with the earth through map study, wanting to know it inch by inch, the way he came to know his wife
Anton: Shows reverence for the heart cells, feeling troublingly entrusted with all this various life; his fingertips seem to warm in their presence
Roman: Treats the cells with practical care, free of reverence; denies worrying about physical degradation
Chie: Reveals her private world through her lists and personal effects—the photo of her mother, the poetry collection from her uncle
Pietro: Reflects on his own nature as a natural-born astronaut with extraordinary equilibrium, yet acknowledges his heart tilts and pitches, loving what it witnesses

Themes, Symbols, or Motifs

Heart cells as humanity: The cells in the dishes represent all of humanity—different ages, backgrounds, races—and their preservation is more important than the astronauts' own lives
Physical degradation vs. cosmic beauty: The hearts inflated with ecstasy at the spectacle of space are simultaneously withered by it
Cosmic insignificance and decentring: The chapter traces humanity's journey from believing the earth is the centre of everything to understanding it is a piddling speck at the centre of nothing
Cosmic loneliness and the search for life: The Voyager probes, the scanning for radio waves, the suspicion that it's not even out there
Orbiting as worship: The crew's loyal, monogamous circling is described as a sense of attention and servitude, a sort of worship
The astronaut's heart vs. the robot: Pietro's reflection on what would be lost if robots replaced human astronauts—no heart to fear or exult
Earth's dimming radiance: The spectrometer measures whether the earth is dimming or brightening, tied to climate change
The moon's yearning to be known: The moon turns its bright side in longing to the earth in the hope of the humans' return

Why This Chapter Matters

This chapter deepens the novel's central meditation on what it means to be human in space. It juxtaposes the moon mission—a historic event happening elsewhere—with the station crew's mundane, repetitive orbit, highlighting the mundaneness of their earth-stuck orbit and reframing their circling as a form of worship. The heart cells in the Russian lab serve as a powerful symbol: humanity in miniature, fragile and dependent on the very conditions that are degrading the astronauts' own bodies. The chapter also develops the theme of cosmic loneliness, tracing humanity's search for extraterrestrial life and the suspicion that we are alone, and it introduces the spectrometer as a tool for measuring the earth's changing radiance, connecting the cosmic perspective to climate change. Pietro's reflection on robots versus human astronauts underscores the novel's insistence on the value of embodied, feeling human presence in space.

Study Questions and Answers

1. How does the chapter use the heart cells in the Russian lab to explore the relationship between the astronauts' bodies and their cosmic experience?

The heart cells—grown from human skin samples of different ages, backgrounds, and races—represent humanity in miniature. Anton's reverence for them contrasts with Roman's practical care. The chapter notes that the astronauts' own hearts are inflated with ecstasy at the spectacle of space while simultaneously withered by it—the same degradation happening to the cells in their incubator is happening to their own bodies. The cells are a cargo more important to humanity than their lives themselves, yet the astronauts' lives depend on cells just like these in their own puny pulsing hearts. This creates a profound connection between the microscopic and the cosmic.

2. What does the chapter suggest about the value of human presence in space versus robotic exploration?

Pietro reflects that a robot has no need for hydration, nutrients, excretion, sleep, no irksome brain fluids or menstruation or libido. But he asks what it would be to cast into space creations with no eyes to see it and no heart to fear or exult in it. His own heart tilts and pitches, so strenuously unrobotic that it presses out once gravity stops pressing in—an animal that does not just bear witness but loves what it witnesses. The chapter suggests that the emotional, embodied human response to space is itself a form of knowledge and value that robots cannot replicate.

3. How does the chapter connect the moon mission to the station crew's experience of their own orbit?

The moon mission—four astronauts launching from Cape Canaveral on a 250,000-mile trajectory—creates a contrast with the station crew's mundaneness of their earth-stuck orbit, bound for nowhere. The crew celebrated with party decorations and desserts, feeling elation mixed with angst, envy, and pride. But their circling is reframed as humbly beautiful, a sense of attention and servitude, a sort of worship. The chapter suggests that the moon mission's historic significance doesn't diminish the value of the station crew's repetitive, loyal orbiting of the earth.