The manifest shortens by one: Gunhild Jaber, 77 years. 1 children carry the line on.
The Ship’s Log
Everything NOR has recorded since departure — the full record, newest first. One day aboard passes every hour of Earth time.
Zaid Barakat stands down from Medical at sixty-eight, to the orchard benches and the long game of stones.
A first shift for Fyodor Ouyang, sixteen: historian, Archive & Schools. The badge is printed fresh.
Cryostore restored within the day. Chukwuemeka Nwosu signs the work order and goes to sleep for a full watch.
A failure in Cryostore. The duty crew is roused; tools move down the spinal corridor at a jog.
Last shift for Tarun Quill, who joined Drive half a century ago. The crew line the corridor and knock wrenches on the rails.
I dim the corridor lights a shade for Jinghua Fang, 96. It is little enough.
Sixty-eight years: Silvia Yan hangs up the sash. An elder's quarters in Ring D stands ready.
Yueqin Diallo, 86, generation 3, is carried down the spinal corridor feet-first, as the custom is.
The youngest aboard is now Wren Quill, minutes old, asleep. 863 souls.
Sixteen years for Juniper Petrov, who signs to Drive at brightening and is given a locker, a sash, and a schedule.
Mikhail Thorvaldsen retires late in the second watch. The department logs a quiet debt it cannot repay in parts or hours.
Morale index reads 78. The number is crude. The singing from the mess confirms it.
Sixty-eight years: Carmen Zhao hangs up the sash. An elder's quarters in Ring D stands ready.
Born late in the second watch: Obinna Fang, generation 6. The ship holds 862 souls tonight.
A birth in Ring D: Arc, boy, generation 6. I have added the name to the manifest with the others.
Year 151 of the voyage begins. The oldest bottle of orchard wine that can be spared is opened. It is always described as "improving."
A child in Ring C asks the corridor speaker what Earth smelled like. I play the rainstorm recording. It is the best answer I have.
First watch. The orchard sprinklers run their cycle, and the sound carries down the spine like weather.
Polina Orellana does not wake in the middle watch. 76 years, most of them given to Medical.
Hydroponics Bays restored after 3 days. Rotimi Orellana signs the work order and goes to sleep for a full watch.
All boards green. I count 861 sleeping heartbeats and call it a good night's work, though the work is theirs.
Hydroponics Bays goes down. I reroute what can be rerouted and wake who must be woken.
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.
Quill Petrov and Yaw Fang name their son Adrián. The nursery lamps stay warm.
A child in Ring A asks the corridor speaker what Earth smelled like. I play the rainstorm recording. It is the best answer I have.
Chengdong Jaber takes the hand of Keel Thorvaldsen before the assembled watch. I witness, as I witness everything.
4.72 light-years remain. I have measured this voyage in breakfasts: some 31,173 thousand to go.
Yueqin Petrov and Tern Quill name their son Qiang. The nursery lamps stay warm.
A child in Ring C asks the corridor speaker what Earth smelled like. I play the rainstorm recording. It is the best answer I have.
Radomir Aaberg does not wake at brightening. 95 years, most of them given to Fabrication.
The youngest aboard is now Amina Thorvaldsen, minutes old, asleep. 860 souls.
The star ahead brightens by amounts only I can love: another week, another hundred-millionth of a magnitude.
A birth in Ring A: Yash, boy, generation 6. I have added the name to the manifest with the others.
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 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 song from Gantry Navarrete — “Sunless Map, Late Window.” The Archive takes a copy; the original belongs to whoever stands nearest.
Morale index reads 75. The number is crude. The singing from the mess confirms it.
Marzena Mansour finishes a tale-cycle: “The Outward Harvest.” It shows in the commons through the week.
The circle has answered. Ration timers go onto every tap. The ship is a desert that carries its own rain; for a while, it must act like one.
“Late Ladder, Early Sky,” a instrument by Folasade Pillai, is unveiled late in the second watch to the particular applause of Drive.
Sixty-eight years: Salvador Fossum hangs up the sash. An elder's quarters in Ring C stands ready.
Wenbo Quaye finishes a poem: “Five Waters Standing.” It shows in the commons through the week.
Repair complete on Fabrication Shops after 2 weeks. I run the test cycle twice, out of respect for history.
The manifest shortens by one: Oluwadamilola Jaber, 83 years. 1 children carry the line on.
Trouble in Fabrication Shops. The board goes amber; the coffee goes on.
Two names braided on the manifest tonight: Unn and Theodore. The commons sings late.
A child in Ring A asks the corridor speaker what Earth smelled like. I play the rainstorm recording. It is the best answer I have.
Dalia Quaye and Bruno Jaber are joined under the orchard lamps. The whole of Hydroponics turns out.
A birth in Ring B: Verne, boy, generation 6. I have added the name to the manifest with the others.