Departure Day, year 162. The founders' roll is read from the first name to the thousandth, and the young ones try to stay solemn.
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 birth in Ring D: Walter, boy, generation 7. I have added the name to the manifest with the others.
All boards green. I count 825 sleeping heartbeats and call it a good night's work, though the work is theirs.
Khalid Navarrete and Efua Nwosu, joined. Their quarters are re-assigned adjoining, per custom.
Morale index reads 81. The number is crude. The singing from the mess confirms it.
Daisy Nwosu retires in the middle watch. The department logs a quiet debt it cannot repay in parts or hours.
Born at dimming: Leif Thorvaldsen, generation 6. The ship holds 825 souls tonight.
Ada Shen and Chengdong Jaber name their daughter Tern. The nursery lamps stay warm.
Tara Quill has made a song called “What the Corridor Forgets.” Asked what it means, she says it means about nine years of evenings.
Qiaoyun Valdivia chooses Archive & Schools — or it chooses her; the elders disagree cheerfully.
Middle watch. The orchard sprinklers run their cycle, and the sound carries down the spine like weather.
4.06 light-years remain. I have measured this voyage in breakfasts: some 26,534 thousand to go.
Routine watch. The wheat in Bay 3 stands taller than its keepers. 32,244 days to orbit.
Remembrance day. The memorial wall is polished by hand, though nothing aboard needs polishing less.
Deneb Valdivia stands the walk of the full spinal corridor, as the sixteen-year custom is, and joins Ecology.
Census check: 823 souls, 217 of them children. The manifest balances to the person, as it must.
Verne Shen is delivered of a daughter in the middle watch. The child is called Liv.
Routine watch. The wheat in Bay 3 stands taller than its keepers. 32,260 days to orbit.
Night watch. The orchard sprinklers run their cycle, and the sound carries down the spine like weather.
Quiet shift. I re-run the arrival calculations for the 5,043th time. They have not changed. I find this restful.
Morale index reads 80. The number is crude. The singing from the mess confirms it.
After 84 years, Emeka Sharma has let go. Remembrance in the Ring D commons at next dimming.
Yaw Fang died in quarters on the first watch, 89 years old. 823 souls aboard.
The star ahead brightens by amounts only I can love: another week, another hundred-millionth of a magnitude.
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.
The hull ticks as it cools into the long night. Year 161, and I still log it faithfully: ticking, nominal.
Quill Petrov chooses Fabrication — or it chooses him; the elders disagree cheerfully.
A birth in Ring D: Arjun, boy, generation 7. I have added the name to the manifest with the others.
The youngest aboard is now Ayodele Aaberg, minutes old, asleep. 823 souls.
Cora Quill, 88, generation 3, is carried down the spinal corridor feet-first, as the custom is.
Polina Jaber retires in the middle watch. The department logs a quiet debt it cannot repay in parts or hours.
Oksana Shen does not wake at brightening. 84 years, most of them given to Medical.
Night watch. The orchard sprinklers run their cycle, and the sound carries down the spine like weather.
4.08 light-years remain. I have measured this voyage in breakfasts: some 26,641 thousand to go.
Last shift for Viggo Diallo, who joined Medical half a century ago. The crew line the corridor and knock wrenches on the rails.
The star ahead brightens by amounts only I can love: another week, another hundred-millionth of a magnitude.
Sixteen years for Helm Nwosu, who signs to Drive in the middle watch and is given a locker, a sash, and a schedule.
The schools release Halley Fang to Ecology. Generation 6 takes up its tools.
Elin Jaber is delivered of a daughter late in the second watch. The child is called Qing.
Last shift for Annika Nwosu, who joined Hydroponics half a century ago. The crew line the corridor and knock wrenches on the rails.
Altair Orellana, sixteen, takes the toolmaker apprenticeship in Fabrication.
The Crossing. Every year it is observed, and every year someone stands to say the second half is the harder, and is booed warmly.
The youngest aboard is now Arc Ouyang, minutes old, asleep. 823 souls.
4.08 light-years remain. I have measured this voyage in breakfasts: some 26,606 thousand to go.
Teresa Zhao chooses Archive & Schools — or it chooses her; the elders disagree cheerfully.
Shanyuan Aaberg and Chidinma Shen are joined under the orchard lamps. The whole of Drive turns out.
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.
Night watch. The orchard sprinklers run their cycle, and the sound carries down the spine like weather.
Quill Jaber, 85, generation 3, is carried down the spinal corridor feet-first, as the custom is.
Sixteen years for Noor Valdivia, who signs to Life Systems at dimming and is given a locker, a sash, and a schedule.