The girl was sitting patiently in her chair, relaxed and distracted, when her parents came into my office.

“Dr. Morales,” the mother said to me.

“Mrs. Lau.”

“How is Marissa doing?”

“She’s doing very well for a girl her age. But,” I paused, “I’m afraid I have some difficult news to share.” I moved a tissue box subtly in their direction. “Are you ready to receive it?”

The parents nodded, more to each other than to me.

“Yes.”

“Marissa has a mild form of a rare circumsomal disease known as Kessler syndrome.” I allowed for a moment of silence. “Are you aware of Kessler syndrome?”

The father shook his head, but the mother nodded. “Pardon me if I misunderstand you, but my sister works for a NASA contractor, and she was telling me Kessler syndrome is the situation where there’s so much satellite orbiting around Earth that we can’t send up any more?”

“That’s right. More precisely, Kessler syndrome is the scenario where enough debris has accumulated in low Earth orbit, from our satellites, that a collision can cause a cascade of further collisions. This does jeopardise the safety and integrity of future space missions.”

The father frowned. “And what does this have to do with our daughter?”

“She has Kessler syndrome.”

“What.”

“Now, granted, her Kessler syndrome is still mild, and the satellite fragments in low Marissa orbit have not yet metastasized into an unstable debris surface that will make her contact with the outside world unviable. That said, I will refer you to a Controlled Deorbit Therapist, who I recommend visiting as soon as possible.”

The parents stood in contemplation. Marissa lolled in her chair.

“You’re not a real doctor, are you?” the father said.

I smiled. “Nope!” I cried, tossing off my doctor coat, running past them into the hall, and flying out into the sunset.