Morale index reads 80. The number is crude. The singing from the mess confirms it.
The Ship’s Log
Everything NOR has recorded since departure — the full record, newest first. One day aboard passes every hour of Earth time.
Yaling Valdivia is delivered of a daughter at dimming. The child is called Qiaoyun.
Tomasz Zhao does not wake at dimming. 68 years, most of them given to Life Systems.
Gyre Ouyang and Yewande Jaber, joined. Their quarters are re-assigned adjoining, per custom.
A first shift for Altair Tväten, sixteen: air systems tech, Life Systems. The badge is printed fresh.
Gunhild Thorvaldsen died in quarters late in the second watch, 75 years old. 877 souls aboard.
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.
The manifest shortens by one: Bhavana Orellana, 75 years. 1 children carry the line on.
I dim the corridor lights a shade for Cristóbal Aaberg, 96. It is little enough.
The manifest shortens by one: Oscar Yan, 87 years. The line rests with the ship now.
Born on the night watch: Deneb Valdivia, generation 6. The ship holds 881 souls tonight.
Feng Northam stands down from Archive & Schools 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.
A joining in Ring B: Zemin Thorvaldsen and Yasmin Ouyang. The pressing of cider is authorized.
The star ahead brightens by amounts only I can love: another week, another hundred-millionth of a magnitude.
Repair complete on Fabrication Shops after 2 weeks. I run the test cycle twice, out of respect for history.
Quiet shift. I re-run the arrival calculations for the 8,187th time. They have not changed. I find this restful.
Gunhild Thorvaldsen has made a play called “What the Furrow Carries.” Asked what it means, she says it means about nine years of evenings.
Peizhi Valdivia's crew brings Cryostore back within the day.
Trouble in Cryostore. The board goes amber; the coffee goes on.
Lyra Petrov and Maksim Ning name their son Quill. The nursery lamps stay warm.
Liang Valdivia stands down from Archive & Schools at sixty-eight, to the orchard benches and the long game of stones.
Fabrication Shops faults in the middle watch. Fabrication takes the call.
Routine watch. The wheat in Bay 3 stands taller than its keepers. 38,138 days to orbit.
Sixty-eight years: Harold Jaber hangs up the sash. An elder's quarters in Ring A stands ready.
The manifest shortens by one: Arc Barakat, 70 years. The line rests with the ship now.
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 first shift for Xavier Shen, sixteen: machinist, Fabrication. The badge is printed fresh.
Keel Ning, 94, generation 3, is carried down the spinal corridor feet-first, as the custom is.
Boreal Petrov chooses Medical — or it chooses her; the elders disagree cheerfully.
Bjorn Nwosu, 72, generation 4, is carried down the spinal corridor feet-first, as the custom is.
Sixty-eight years: Pavel Ning hangs up the sash. An elder's quarters in Ring D stands ready.
All boards green. I count 882 sleeping heartbeats and call it a good night's work, though the work is theirs.
Sable Tväten documents a new strain among the pollinator moths, wings the color of hull metal.
A birth in Ring B: Helm, boy, generation 5. I have added the name to the manifest with the others.
Guiying Ouyang retires in the middle watch. The department logs a quiet debt it cannot repay in parts or hours.
After 89 years, Keel Nwosu has let go. Remembrance in the Ring A commons at next dimming.
Census check: 882 souls, 161 of them children. The manifest balances to the person, as it must.
The youngest aboard is now Halley Fang, minutes old, asleep. 882 souls.
A first shift for Tariq Thorvaldsen, sixteen: printer operator, Fabrication. The badge is printed fresh.
A birth in Ring A: Altair, boy, generation 6. I have added the name to the manifest with the others.
Sixty-eight years: Emeka Sharma hangs up the sash. An elder's quarters in Ring C stands ready.
The Crossing. Every year it is observed, and every year someone stands to say the second half is the harder, and is booed warmly.
Sixteen years for Xingyu Navarrete, who signs to Medical on the first watch and is given a locker, a sash, and a schedule.
The youngest aboard is now Teresa Zhao, minutes old, asleep. 880 souls.
A wedding late in the second watch. Oscar Shen, Archive & Schools; Yaling Valdivia, Fabrication. The ship approves in its way: the lights held steady throughout.
Census check: 879 souls, 160 of them children. The manifest balances to the person, as it must.
Sixty-eight years: Farida Yan hangs up the sash. An elder's quarters in Ring B stands ready.
5.04 light-years remain. I have measured this voyage in breakfasts: some 33,596 thousand to go.
Night watch. The orchard sprinklers run their cycle, and the sound carries down the spine like weather.