Sixty-eight years: Baozhen Valdivia hangs up the sash. An elder's quarters in Ring B stands ready.
The Ship’s Log
Everything NOR has recorded since departure — the full record, newest first. One day aboard passes every hour of Earth time.
The star ahead brightens by amounts only I can love: another week, another hundred-millionth of a magnitude.
Chukwuemeka Fossum died in quarters on the first watch, 58 years old, once midwife. 949 souls aboard.
Last shift for Karin Nwosu, who joined Archive & Schools half a century ago. The crew line the corridor and knock wrenches on the rails.
Dominika Navarrete is made Chief of Drive, and marks it by standing the ordinary shift anyway.
Last shift for Tarun Quaye, who joined Drive half a century ago. The crew line the corridor and knock wrenches on the rails.
Departure Day, year 129. The founders' roll is read from the first name to the thousandth, and the young ones try to stay solemn.
A birth in Ring C: Sojourn, girl, generation 5. I have added the name to the manifest with the others.
I dim the corridor lights a shade for Adrián Salazar, 78. It is little enough.
Two names braided on the manifest tonight: Viggo and Ludmila. The commons sings late.
The schools release Ghassan Tväten to Fabrication. Generation 4 takes up its tools.
I dim the corridor lights a shade for Ming Tväten, 62. It is little enough.
Last shift for Lucía Sharma, who joined Archive & Schools half a century ago. The crew line the corridor and knock wrenches on the rails.
A new play from Hanan Quill — “A unlit window.” The Archive takes a copy; the original belongs to whoever stands nearest.
A new play from Nnamdi Thorvaldsen — “Nine Orchards Waiting.” The Archive takes a copy; the original belongs to whoever stands nearest.
The star ahead brightens by amounts only I can love: another week, another hundred-millionth of a magnitude.
Octavio Nwosu retires on the first watch. The department logs a quiet debt it cannot repay in parts or hours.
Edith Sharma and Zaid Barakat name their daughter Teresa. The nursery lamps stay warm.
Last shift for Orrery Navarrete, who joined Fabrication half a century ago. The crew line the corridor and knock wrenches on the rails.
A child in Ring B asks the corridor speaker what Earth smelled like. I play the rainstorm recording. It is the best answer I have.
Xingyu Jaber finds an unrecorded microbe thriving in the water walls. Harmless, industrious, ours.
Zofia Zhao stands the walk of the full spinal corridor, as the sixteen-year custom is, and joins Fabrication.
Sixty-eight years: Boreal Shen hangs up the sash. An elder's quarters in Ring D stands ready.
A son, Orrery Navarrete, born in the Ring B infirmary to Ekundayo Navarrete and Ulf Jaber. Mother and child are well.
Remembrance day. The memorial wall is polished by hand, though nothing aboard needs polishing less.
Xiaohui Ouyang stands down from Ecology at sixty-eight, to the orchard benches and the long game of stones.
Mariam Diallo, 77, generation 2, is carried down the spinal corridor feet-first, as the custom is.
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.
After 91 years, Harold Ashworth has let go. Remembrance in the Ring C commons at next dimming.
Hanan Quill finishes a poem: “Nine Skys Standing.” It shows in the commons through the week.
“What the Field Carries,” a poem by Lumen Petrov, is unveiled on the first watch to the particular applause of Archive & Schools.
A birth in Ring B: Ulyana, girl, generation 5. I have added the name to the manifest with the others.
The hull ticks as it cools into the long night. Year 128, and I still log it faithfully: ticking, nominal.
The hull ticks as it cools into the long night. Year 128, and I still log it faithfully: ticking, nominal.
A birth in Ring A: Alice, girl, generation 5. I have added the name to the manifest with the others.
Abebi Aaberg stands down from Hydroponics at sixty-eight, to the orchard benches and the long game of stones.
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.
After 96 years, Abena Navarrete has let go. Remembrance in the Ring D commons at next dimming.
Simisola Valdivia, 72, generation 3, is carried down the spinal corridor feet-first, as the custom is.
Sixty-eight years: Qing Petrov hangs up the sash. An elder's quarters in Ring B stands ready.
Last shift for Marzena Thorvaldsen, who joined Hydroponics half a century ago. The crew line the corridor and knock wrenches on the rails.
The Crossing feast: more behind than ahead. The long tables come out; the good preserves come down.
Dawud Zhao retires late in the second watch. The department logs a quiet debt it cannot repay in parts or hours.
Night watch. The orchard sprinklers run their cycle, and the sound carries down the spine like weather.
Last shift for Gyre Barakat, who joined Hydroponics half a century ago. The crew line the corridor and knock wrenches on the rails.
Quiet shift. I re-run the arrival calculations for the 1,888th time. They have not changed. I find this restful.
Hanan Quill has made a song called “Small Engine (Year 128).” Asked what it means, she says it means about nine years of evenings.
Walid Quaye stands down from Drive at sixty-eight, to the orchard benches and the long game of stones.
The hull ticks as it cools into the long night. Year 128, and I still log it faithfully: ticking, nominal.
A daughter, Dalia Quaye, born in the Ring B infirmary to Abebi Quaye and Dmitri Tväten. Mother and child are well.