Sixty-eight years: Yueqin Diallo 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.
Morale index reads 83. The number is crude. The singing from the mess confirms it.
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.
A new quilt from Aster Tväten — “The Green Signal.” The Archive takes a copy; the original belongs to whoever stands nearest.
Morale index reads 83. The number is crude. The singing from the mess confirms it.
Cora Orellana is delivered of a son late in the second watch. The child is called Fern.
Routine watch. The wheat in Bay 3 stands taller than its keepers. 42,864 days to orbit.
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.
Harriet Singh, 96, generation 2, is carried down the spinal corridor feet-first, as the custom is.
5.80 light-years remain. I have measured this voyage in breakfasts: some 40,856 thousand to go.
Census check: 953 souls, 140 of them children. The manifest balances to the person, as it must.
The schools release Chengdong Jaber to Life Systems. Generation 5 takes up its tools.
Morale index reads 83. The number is crude. The singing from the mess confirms it.
Morale index reads 84. The number is crude. The singing from the mess confirms it.
Sojourn Nwosu and Drift Shen name their daughter Modupe. The nursery lamps stay warm.
A birth in Ring D: Ion, girl, generation 5. I have added the name to the manifest with the others.
Born on the night watch: Ivar Fang, generation 6. The ship holds 951 souls tonight.
Night watch. The orchard sprinklers run their cycle, and the sound carries down the spine like weather.
Born late in the second watch: Chandran Yan, generation 5. The ship holds 950 souls tonight.
Census check: 949 souls, 137 of them children. The manifest balances to the person, as it must.
Too soon, at 32: Tunde Thorvaldsen. The commons fills at brightening with those who knew him.
Green across the board: Medical Bay holds after 3 weeks of work. Spares were spent; Fabrication is notified.
Maintenance sweep of Ring C complete. Somewhere aft a wrench is missing; it will surface in a decade, in a wall, with a story attached.
After 90 years, Fuhua Ulriksen has let go. Remembrance in the Ring A commons at next dimming.
Medical Bay goes down. I reroute what can be rerouted and wake who must be woken.
The youngest aboard is now Pilar Sharma, minutes old, asleep. 951 souls.
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 132, and I still log it faithfully: ticking, nominal.
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.
A daughter, Ylva Valdivia, born in the Ring A infirmary to Freya Valdivia and Nneka Diallo. Mother and child are well.
Sixty-eight years: Adrián Diallo hangs up the sash. An elder's quarters in Ring D stands ready.
Vasanti Nwosu, 86, generation 2, is carried down the spinal corridor feet-first, as the custom is.
Sixty-eight years: Halley Peng hangs up the sash. An elder's quarters in Ring B stands ready.
Ulf Shen takes the hand of Ming Yan before the assembled watch. I witness, as I witness everything.
Ruth Orellana does not wake on the night watch. 60 years, most of them given to Archive & Schools.
The hull ticks as it cools into the long night. Year 132, and I still log it faithfully: ticking, nominal.
Night watch. The orchard sprinklers run their cycle, and the sound carries down the spine like weather.
All boards green. I count 951 sleeping heartbeats and call it a good night's work, though the work is theirs.
Drift Valdivia retires on the first watch. The department logs a quiet debt it cannot repay in parts or hours.
Funmilayo Thorvaldsen retires on the first watch. The department logs a quiet debt it cannot repay in parts or hours.
Maintenance sweep of Ring B complete. Somewhere aft a wrench is missing; it will surface in a decade, in a wall, with a story attached.
Verne Orellana stands down from Drive at sixty-eight, to the orchard benches and the long game of stones.
Night watch. The orchard sprinklers run their cycle, and the sound carries down the spine like weather.
Routine watch. The wheat in Bay 3 stands taller than its keepers. 43,001 days to orbit.
I dim the corridor lights a shade for Ulises Pemberton, 57. It is little enough.
Morale index reads 88. The number is crude. The singing from the mess confirms it.
First Light. The observation blister queues run all day: Teegarden's Star, held in the eyepiece, a little brighter than last year — 5.82 light-years to go.
Last shift for Simisola Valdivia, who joined Archive & Schools half a century ago. The crew line the corridor and knock wrenches on the rails.
Rell Jaber and Yuri Petrov name their son Torsten. The nursery lamps stay warm.
First watch. The orchard sprinklers run their cycle, and the sound carries down the spine like weather.