A shielding section fails outboard of Ring C. The walk to fix it is long and cold.
The Ship’s Log
Everything NOR has recorded since departure — the full record, newest first. One day aboard passes every hour of Earth time.
A first shift for Devendra Jaber, sixteen: midwife, Medical. The badge is printed fresh.
Census check: 831 souls, 187 of them children. The manifest balances to the person, as it must.
Ingrid Diallo died in quarters at dimming, 92 years old. 831 souls aboard.
A birth in Ring B: Ifeoma, girl, generation 6. I have added the name to the manifest with the others.
A new instrument from Iris Kong — “The Borrowed Ladder.” The Archive takes a copy; the original belongs to whoever stands nearest.
After 76 years, Ishaan Mansour has let go. Remembrance in the Ring C commons at next dimming.
Repair complete on Medical Bay after 36 long days. I run the test cycle twice, out of respect for history.
Wenbo Thorvaldsen finishes a poem: “What the Season Remembers.” It shows in the commons through the week.
A joining in Ring B: Torsten Jaber and Umbra Thorvaldsen. The pressing of cider is authorized.
Nikolai Zhao is made Chief of Hydroponics, and marks it by standing the ordinary shift anyway.
Last shift for Hedda Orellana, who joined Hydroponics half a century ago. The crew line the corridor and knock wrenches on the rails.
Bruno Jaber confirms a new wheat cultivar in Bay 3 — shorter stalk, fuller head. It will be called what the children already call it.
Routine watch. The wheat in Bay 3 stands taller than its keepers. 34,896 days to orbit.
A first shift for Verne Nwosu, sixteen: toolmaker, Fabrication. The badge is printed fresh.
After 83 years, Basma Ning has let go. Remembrance in the Ring D commons at next dimming.
The schools release Valentina Fang to Drive. Generation 6 takes up its tools.
After 93 years, Karin Nwosu has let go. Remembrance in the Ring A commons at next dimming.
Konstantin Nwosu and Rania Diallo are joined under the orchard lamps. The whole of Archive & Schools turns out.
Trouble in Medical Bay. The board goes amber; the coffee goes on.
Quiet shift. I re-run the arrival calculations for the 2,395th time. They have not changed. I find this restful.
The Crossing. Every year it is observed, and every year someone stands to say the second half is the harder, and is booed warmly.
After 92 years, Tao Aaberg has let go. Remembrance in the Ring D commons at next dimming.
Morale index reads 76. The number is crude. The singing from the mess confirms it.
Galina Tväten and Vega Yan name their daughter Kamala. The nursery lamps stay warm.
A daughter, Sojourn Pillai, born in the Ring B infirmary to Folasade Pillai and Bogdan Valdivia. Mother and child are well.
The manifest shortens by one: Yusheng Nwosu, 69 years. The line rests with the ship now.
Babatunde Navarrete has made a play called “Quiet Engine, Inward Corridor.” Asked what it means, he says it means about nine years of evenings.
I dim the corridor lights a shade for Xiulan Orellana, 80. It is little enough.
“Twelve Maps Turning,” a tale-cycle by Pavel Kowalczyk, is unveiled at brightening to the particular applause of Archive & Schools.
Routine watch. The wheat in Bay 3 stands taller than its keepers. 34,942 days to orbit.
Feng Ouyang works out a tougher print alloy from recycler feedstock. Fabrication adopts it the same week.
The hull ticks as it cools into the long night. Year 154, and I still log it faithfully: ticking, nominal.
The hull ticks as it cools into the long night. Year 154, and I still log it faithfully: ticking, nominal.
The manifest shortens by one: Safiya Jaber, 65 years. 3 children carry the line on.
All boards green. I count 836 sleeping heartbeats and call it a good night's work, though the work is theirs.
The hull ticks as it cools into the long night. Year 154, and I still log it faithfully: ticking, nominal.
NOR Compute Core hums again. Stanislav Northam is stood a round of orchard cider by the off-shift.
The star ahead brightens by amounts only I can love: another week, another hundred-millionth of a magnitude.
The star ahead brightens by amounts only I can love: another week, another hundred-millionth of a magnitude.
Keel Thorvaldsen is delivered of a daughter late in the second watch. The child is called Beatriz.
Ruth Tväten died in quarters on the night watch, 97 years old. 835 souls aboard.
NOR Compute Core quits late in the second watch, with a sound the old hands do not like.
4.51 light-years remain. I have measured this voyage in breakfasts: some 29,235 thousand to go.
Morale index reads 76. The number is crude. The singing from the mess confirms it.
Sixty-eight years: Kavita Mansour hangs up the sash. An elder's quarters in Ring B stands ready.
All boards green. I count 836 sleeping heartbeats and call it a good night's work, though the work is theirs.
First Light. The observation blister queues run all day: Teegarden's Star, held in the eyepiece, a little brighter than last year — 4.51 light-years to go.
Vega Aaberg is delivered of a daughter on the night watch. The child is called Meridian.
Born in the middle watch: Shu Petrov, generation 7. The ship holds 835 souls tonight.