Sarala Aaberg stands down from Drive at sixty-eight, to the orchard benches and the long game of stones.
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 died in quarters at dimming, 82 years old. 821 souls aboard.
The star ahead brightens by amounts only I can love: another week, another hundred-millionth of a magnitude.
3.82 light-years remain. I have measured this voyage in breakfasts: some 25,293 thousand to go.
Farida Quaye, 93, generation 3, is carried down the spinal corridor feet-first, as the custom is.
Fathom Salazar, 74, generation 4, is carried down the spinal corridor feet-first, as the custom is.
Sixteen years for Qiang Quill, who signs to Fabrication on the first watch and is given a locker, a sash, and a schedule.
Yaw Quill chooses Hydroponics — or it chooses her; the elders disagree cheerfully.
Remembrance day. The memorial wall is polished by hand, though nothing aboard needs polishing less.
Sojourn Fang died in quarters at brightening, 79 years old. 824 souls aboard.
Maintenance sweep of Ring D complete. Somewhere aft a wrench is missing; it will surface in a decade, in a wall, with a story attached.
The manifest shortens by one: Lyra Merriweather, 97 years. The line rests with the ship now.
Umbra Shen and Mohan Diallo name their daughter Sable. The nursery lamps stay warm.
Night watch. The orchard sprinklers run their cycle, and the sound carries down the spine like weather.
The schools release Cygnet Northam to Life Systems. Generation 6 takes up its tools.
Census check: 825 souls, 230 of them children. The manifest balances to the person, as it must.
Deneb Pillai chooses Ecology — or it chooses him; the elders disagree cheerfully.
Halley Quill, 80, generation 3, is carried down the spinal corridor feet-first, as the custom is.
Indira Petrov has made a mural called “The Small Sky.” Asked what it means, she says it means about nine years of evenings.
Fabrication Shops hums again. Ramiro Shen is stood a round of orchard cider by the off-shift.
Fabrication Shops goes down. I reroute what can be rerouted and wake who must be woken.
A birth in Ring B: Theodore, boy, generation 6. I have added the name to the manifest with the others.
Iris Kong has died at 54, far too early. Drive stands down a shift in grief.
Vasanti Zhao chooses Life Systems — or it chooses her; the elders disagree cheerfully.
Vasanti Sharma died in quarters at dimming, 80 years old. 826 souls aboard.
The hull ticks as it cools into the long night. Year 165, and I still log it faithfully: ticking, nominal.
A birth in Ring C: Nneka, girl, generation 6. I have added the name to the manifest with the others.
Anand Thorvaldsen has made a poem called “Watch for the Spun Hymn.” Asked what it means, he says it means about nine years of evenings.
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.
3.84 light-years remain. I have measured this voyage in breakfasts: some 25,507 thousand to go.
After 89 years, Zikora Petrov has let go. Remembrance in the Ring C commons at next dimming.
Yaw Sharma, sixteen, takes the plasma systems tech apprenticeship in Drive.
Rania Diallo and Konstantin Nwosu name their son Leif. The nursery lamps stay warm.
Pilar Sharma is delivered of a son in the middle watch. The child is called Orrery.
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.
3.84 light-years remain. I have measured this voyage in breakfasts: some 25,489 thousand to go.
Two names braided on the manifest tonight: Nils and Keel. The commons sings late.
The manifest shortens by one: Gantry Valdivia, 84 years. 1 children carry the line on.
A daughter, Elsie Petrov, born in the Ring B infirmary to Juniper Petrov and Quill Fang. Mother and child are well.
The Crossing. Every year it is observed, and every year someone stands to say the second half is the harder, and is booed warmly.
Johanna Navarrete is delivered of a son late in the second watch. The child is called Sanjay.
3.85 light-years remain. I have measured this voyage in breakfasts: some 25,473 thousand to go.
Amparo Quaye, 91, generation 3, is carried down the spinal corridor feet-first, as the custom is.
A daughter, Yamini Tväten, born in the Ring D infirmary to Tessa Tväten and Xingyu Navarrete. Mother and child are well.
Routine watch. The wheat in Bay 3 stands taller than its keepers. 30,937 days to orbit.
Born late in the second watch: Dalia Mansour, generation 6. The ship holds 824 souls tonight.
Ibrahim Valdivia chooses Command — or it chooses him; the elders disagree cheerfully.
Nora Aaberg finds an unrecorded microbe thriving in the water walls. Harmless, industrious, ours.
The hull ticks as it cools into the long night. Year 165, and I still log it faithfully: ticking, nominal.
Quiet shift. I re-run the arrival calculations for the 6,362th time. They have not changed. I find this restful.