6.09 light-years remain. I have measured this voyage in breakfasts: some 42,589 thousand to go.
The Ship’s Log
Everything NOR has recorded since departure — the full record, newest first. One day aboard passes every hour of Earth time.
“Four Fields Standing,” a poem by Lakshman Tväten, is unveiled on the first watch to the particular applause of Fabrication.
6.10 light-years remain. I have measured this voyage in breakfasts: some 42,608 thousand to go.
A birth in Ring C: Meridian, boy, generation 5. I have added the name to the manifest with the others.
Cygnet Petrov and Fadi Yan name their daughter Harini. The nursery lamps stay warm.
“Seven Engines Rising,” a play by Xavier Thorvaldsen, is unveiled on the first watch to the particular applause of Hydroponics.
Svetlana Shen finishes a instrument: “Furrow for the Whole Anchor.” It shows in the commons through the week.
A daughter, Funmilayo Valdivia, born in the Ring B infirmary to Adaeze Valdivia and Rotimi Orellana. Mother and child are well.
A wedding on the night watch. Fathom Thorvaldsen, Archive & Schools; Amina Navarrete, Life Systems. The ship approves in its way: the lights held steady throughout.
Chinedu Thorvaldsen has made a song called “Ladders of the observation blister.” Asked what it means, he says it means about nine years of evenings.
Last shift for Birgitta Nwosu, who joined Hydroponics half a century ago. The crew line the corridor and knock wrenches on the rails.
I compare today's star field against day one's. The constellations have begun, very slightly, to come apart. Nobody else will look; that is what I am for.
Wei Nwosu, sixteen, takes the watch officer apprenticeship in Command.
Anders Shen retires at dimming. The department logs a quiet debt it cannot repay in parts or hours.
Two names braided on the manifest tonight: Dmitri and Abebi. The commons sings late.
The Crossing. Every year it is observed, and every year someone stands to say the second half is the harder, and is booed warmly.
The hull ticks as it cools into the long night. Year 127, and I still log it faithfully: ticking, nominal.
6.11 light-years remain. I have measured this voyage in breakfasts: some 42,547 thousand to go.
The question is put to the wider circle: The crèche question. The ship asks; Earth answers, in its own long time.
A new poem from Beatriz Sharma — “The Spun Harvest.” The Archive takes a copy; the original belongs to whoever stands nearest.
Pearl Sharma is delivered of a daughter at brightening. The child is called Adaeze.
Two names braided on the manifest tonight: Feng and Farida. The commons sings late.
A son, Qasim Shen, born in the Ring D infirmary to Fern Shen and Quill Shen. Mother and child are well.
The hull ticks as it cools into the long night. Year 127, and I still log it faithfully: ticking, nominal.
Last shift for Walter Orellana, who joined Medical half a century ago. The crew line the corridor and knock wrenches on the rails.
First Light festival. The children are lifted to the eyepiece one by one to see where they are going.
Caelum Nwosu does not wake in the middle watch. 86 years, most of them given to Hydroponics.
Quiet shift. I re-run the arrival calculations for the 1,470th time. They have not changed. I find this restful.
A new mural from Caelum Sharma — “The Turning Orchard.” The Archive takes a copy; the original belongs to whoever stands nearest.
Edmund Jaber has made a play called “A sunless anchor.” Asked what it means, he says it means about nine years of evenings.
Sixty-eight years: Howard Aaberg hangs up the sash. An elder's quarters in Ring A stands ready.
Routine watch. The wheat in Bay 3 stands taller than its keepers. 44,857 days to orbit.
Sixty-eight years: Samira Shen hangs up the sash. An elder's quarters in Ring B stands ready.
Jagdish Petrov retires at brightening. The department logs a quiet debt it cannot repay in parts or hours.
Caelum Aaberg is delivered of a daughter at dimming. The child is called Vega.
Census check: 948 souls, 111 of them children. The manifest balances to the person, as it must.
The hull ticks as it cools into the long night. Year 127, and I still log it faithfully: ticking, nominal.
After 82 years, Leonard Thorvaldsen has let go. Remembrance in the Ring D commons at next dimming.
Wenbo Nwosu retires on the first watch. The department logs a quiet debt it cannot repay in parts or hours.
Last shift for Dag Valdivia, who joined Hydroponics half a century ago. The crew line the corridor and knock wrenches on the rails.
Zaid Ouyang has died at 53, far too early. Fabrication stands down a shift in grief.
I dim the corridor lights a shade for Rajesh Jaber, 102. It is little enough.
Xenia Shen is delivered of a son late in the second watch. The child is called Yusheng.
Sixteen years for Ernest Aaberg, who signs to Drive in the middle watch and is given a locker, a sash, and a schedule.
I dim the corridor lights a shade for Josefina Shen, 96. It is little enough.
The star ahead brightens by amounts only I can love: another week, another hundred-millionth of a magnitude.
After 87 years, Nils Salazar has let go. Remembrance in the Ring D commons at next dimming.
All boards green. I count 952 sleeping heartbeats and call it a good night's work, though the work is theirs.
Ayodele Salazar stands down from Fabrication at sixty-eight, to the orchard benches and the long game of stones.
Nneka Diallo is delivered of a daughter on the night watch. The child is called Rania.