[hr][center][h1][color=f7941d]Side 3> Port 1[/color][/h1][h3][color=f26522][i]Ginga[/i][/color][/h3]
[color=fff200]Marie Wellington[/color][/center]
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Space. A vast and near empty frontier. Out by the colonies there was little between the cylinders while encroaching upon the Earth you might begin to see a glint of floating metal or a resting beacon. The debris belt which encircled the Earth held the majority of its content close but a few pieces could be flung out, making the progress towards the one reliable space port the colonies held at the belt very arduous and grueling for those those unaccustomed. All Marie had to occupy her time were the numerous reports to review and the occasional media from the past. Little was made in the way of their movies or music since everyone was busy working on the colonies. Everyone had a job, even the youngest had to learn to prepare for work. Any citizen acting defiant would be subjected to enlistment, or enforced labor which just brought the process full circle with corporal punishment.

Even so, Marie looked over when she heard music from one of the chair sections, an assistant who finished her work and began playing the tunes over a smaller tablet she had. Marie recognized the lyrics from an older song, but the voice was clearly someone new. Marie pulled herself from the chair and floated over to see the artist, the letters A and I being the only indication. Marie shook her head before pulling past her towards the bathroom. No use investing in some child whose obsession with the music lead to recasting her own voice over the original's. [color=fff200]"Funny. I always thought Clyne's music was too optimistic compared to the ending."[/color]