Census check: 888 souls, 141 of them children. The manifest balances to the person, as it must.
The Ship’s Log
Everything NOR has recorded since departure — the full record, newest first. One day aboard passes every hour of Earth time.
Sixty-eight years: Pearl Petrov hangs up the sash. An elder's quarters in Ring B stands ready.
A daughter, Nneka Jaber, born in the Ring C infirmary to Ingrid Jaber and Karim Petrov. Mother and child are well.
Bjorn Nwosu stands down from Medical at sixty-eight, to the orchard benches and the long game of stones.
The manifest shortens by one: Fernanda Mazur, 85 years. The line rests with the ship now.
The question is put to the wider circle: The second orchard. The ship asks; Earth answers, in its own long time.
Esha Shen, 87, generation 3, is carried down the spinal corridor feet-first, as the custom is.
“A small watch,” a play by Konstantin Tväten, is unveiled late in the second watch to the particular applause of Fabrication.
First Light festival. The children are lifted to the eyepiece one by one to see where they are going.
The hull ticks as it cools into the long night. Year 141, and I still log it faithfully: ticking, nominal.
Sixteen years for Teegarden Fang, who signs to Medical on the night watch and is given a locker, a sash, and a schedule.
Gunhild Jaber stands down from Hydroponics at sixty-eight, to the orchard benches and the long game of stones.
A first shift for Guowei Nwosu, sixteen: plasma systems tech, Drive. The badge is printed fresh.
Sixty-eight years: Teegarden Barakat hangs up the sash. An elder's quarters in Ring A stands ready.
All boards green. I count 889 sleeping heartbeats and call it a good night's work, though the work is theirs.
Lanying Nwosu does not wake at brightening. 73 years, most of them given to Medical.
Last shift for Vera Tväten, who joined Fabrication half a century ago. The crew line the corridor and knock wrenches on the rails.
Last shift for Deneb Zhao, who joined Fabrication half a century ago. The crew line the corridor and knock wrenches on the rails.
Chinedu Valdivia stands down from Archive & Schools at sixty-eight, to the orchard benches and the long game of stones.
All boards green. I count 890 sleeping heartbeats and call it a good night's work, though the work is theirs.
The star ahead brightens by amounts only I can love: another week, another hundred-millionth of a magnitude.
After 97 years, Sanjay Orellana has let go. Remembrance in the Ring D commons at next dimming.
Nicolás Zhao retires at brightening. The department logs a quiet debt it cannot repay in parts or hours.
Maja Tväten and Wei Fang name their son Anand. The nursery lamps stay warm.
Olaf Nwosu stands the walk of the full spinal corridor, as the sixteen-year custom is, and joins Hydroponics.
Huda Jaber chooses Fabrication — or it chooses her; the elders disagree cheerfully.
Milena Kowalczyk finishes a instrument: “Hollow Lantern, Whole Water.” It shows in the commons through the week.
Mingyu Thorvaldsen died in quarters on the first watch, 71 years old. 890 souls aboard.
After 78 years, Mariam Petrov has let go. Remembrance in the Ring A commons at next dimming.
After 80 years, Abebi Aaberg has let go. Remembrance in the Ring A commons at next dimming.
Last shift for Winifred Tväten, who joined Ecology half a century ago. The crew line the corridor and knock wrenches on the rails.
Sixteen years for Hedda Quill, who signs to Life Systems on the night watch and is given a locker, a sash, and a schedule.
Year 141 of the voyage begins. The oldest bottle of orchard wine that can be spared is opened. It is always described as "improving."
A joining in Ring D: Fadi Shen and Ion Yan. The pressing of cider is authorized.
The youngest aboard is now Sami Jaber, minutes old, asleep. 893 souls.
Karim Shen chooses Hydroponics — or it chooses him; the elders disagree cheerfully.
The star ahead brightens by amounts only I can love: another week, another hundred-millionth of a magnitude.
A new quilt from Widad Shen — “Seasons of the observation blister.” The Archive takes a copy; the original belongs to whoever stands nearest.
Yaw Fang and Quill Petrov are joined under the orchard lamps. The whole of Life Systems turns out.
Last shift for Rosario Thorvaldsen, who joined Medical half a century ago. The crew line the corridor and knock wrenches on the rails.
Meilin Valdivia, 82, generation 3, is carried down the spinal corridor feet-first, as the custom is.
The manifest shortens by one: Abena Nwosu, 97 years. 5 children carry the line on.
“Green Field (Year 140),” a poem by Sergei Thorvaldsen, is unveiled at brightening to the particular applause of Archive & Schools.
Quiet shift. I re-run the arrival calculations for the 6,424th time. They have not changed. I find this restful.
The circle has answered. Agronomy takes the morning hours. The schools smell of soil, and the racks gain a hundred small careful hands.
Last shift for Walid Diallo, who joined Hydroponics half a century ago. The crew line the corridor and knock wrenches on the rails.
Morale index reads 79. The number is crude. The singing from the mess confirms it.
Remembrance. All names read since the last one — held in silence in every ring at the same hour. I keep the lights low until it is done.
I dim the corridor lights a shade for Edmund Ulriksen, 71. It is little enough.
Morale index reads 78. The number is crude. The singing from the mess confirms it.