The star ahead brightens by amounts only I can love: another week, another hundred-millionth of a magnitude.
The Ship’s Log
Everything NOR has recorded since departure — the full record, newest first. One day aboard passes every hour of Earth time.
After 92 years, Juniper Tväten has let go. Remembrance in the Ring B commons at next dimming.
Quiet shift. I re-run the arrival calculations for the 4,561th time. They have not changed. I find this restful.
Hedda Quill and Aleksandr Aaberg name their daughter Mira. The nursery lamps stay warm.
A wedding on the first watch. Sojourn Ning, Hydroponics; Ion Jaber, Drive. The ship approves in its way: the lights held steady throughout.
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.
Boreal Navarrete has made a play called “Signals of the spinal corridor.” Asked what it means, she says it means about nine years of evenings.
Pranav Yan is made Chief of Drive, and marks it by standing the ordinary shift anyway.
Sixty-eight years: Suyin Thorvaldsen hangs up the sash. An elder's quarters in Ring C stands ready.
The manifest shortens by one: Freya Tväten, 89 years. 1 children carry the line on.
Quill Diallo has made a poem called “Watchs of Ring A.” Asked what it means, she says it means about nine years of evenings.
Night watch. The orchard sprinklers run their cycle, and the sound carries down the spine like weather.
Census check: 819 souls, 211 of them children. The manifest balances to the person, as it must.
A first shift for Lyra Aaberg, sixteen: fuelwright, Drive. The badge is printed fresh.
Morale index reads 78. The number is crude. The singing from the mess confirms it.
Yasmin Petrov and Aster Quill, joined. Their quarters are re-assigned adjoining, per custom.
Ada Yan retires on the first watch. The department logs a quiet debt it cannot repay in parts or hours.
First Light festival. The children are lifted to the eyepiece one by one to see where they are going.
Sixteen years for Ulyana Fang, who signs to Hydroponics in the middle watch and is given a locker, a sash, and a schedule.
Dalia Nwosu is delivered of a son at brightening. The child is called Yash.
Census check: 818 souls, 212 of them children. The manifest balances to the person, as it must.
Census check: 818 souls, 212 of them children. The manifest balances to the person, as it must.
After 93 years, Ebba Peng has let go. Remembrance in the Ring D commons at next dimming.
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.
Sixty-eight years: Yolanda Navarrete hangs up the sash. An elder's quarters in Ring D stands ready.
Bjorn Barakat stands down from Life Systems at sixty-eight, to the orchard benches and the long game of stones.
Rell Valdivia has made a quilt called “Maps of Year 160.” Asked what it means, she says it means about nine years of evenings.
A new quilt from Nneka Jaber — “A turning window.” The Archive takes a copy; the original belongs to whoever stands nearest.
Morale index reads 76. The number is crude. The singing from the mess confirms it.
A son, Orrery Nwosu, born in the Ring D infirmary to Leticia Nwosu and Ulf Aaberg. Mother and child are well.
A birth in Ring C: Bogdan, boy, generation 6. I have added the name to the manifest with the others.
A birth in Ring C: Meridian, girl, generation 6. I have added the name to the manifest with the others.
The youngest aboard is now Soledad Yan, minutes old, asleep. 816 souls.
“Fields of Year 160,” a poem by Clara Ouyang, is unveiled on the night watch to the particular applause of Life Systems.
Born at brightening: Ibrahim Shen, generation 6. The ship holds 815 souls tonight.
A first shift for Ulises Petrov, sixteen: mycologist, Hydroponics. The badge is printed fresh.
Huda Thorvaldsen chooses Archive & Schools — or it chooses her; the elders disagree cheerfully.
The manifest shortens by one: Haoran Peng, 87 years. The line rests with the ship now.
Year 160 of the voyage begins. The oldest bottle of orchard wine that can be spared is opened. It is always described as "improving."
Born on the night watch: Boreal Fang, generation 6. The ship holds 815 souls tonight.
A birth in Ring B: Bassam, boy, generation 6. I have added the name to the manifest with the others.
Maintenance sweep of Ring A complete. Somewhere aft a wrench is missing; it will surface in a decade, in a wall, with a story attached.
Two names braided on the manifest tonight: Gantry and Fadi. The commons sings late.
Keel Pemberton stands the walk of the full spinal corridor, as the sixteen-year custom is, and joins Fabrication.
“Thread for the Borrowed Harvest,” a play by Gantry Navarrete, is unveiled on the first watch to the particular applause of Ecology.
The manifest shortens by one: Elsie Mazur, 88 years. The line rests with the ship now.
A son, Konstantin Thorvaldsen, born in the Ring D infirmary to Keel Thorvaldsen and Chengdong Jaber. Mother and child are well.
Knut Barakat has died at 48, far too early. Life Systems stands down a shift in grief.
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 second child follows on the night watch: twins for Leticia Shen. This one is called Grigori.