Routine watch. The wheat in Bay 3 stands taller than its keepers. 26,598 days to orbit.
The Ship’s Log
Everything NOR has recorded since departure — the full record, newest first. One day aboard passes every hour of Earth time.
Lyra Orellana has made a mural called “Thread for the Standing Lantern.” Asked what it means, he says it means about nine years of evenings.
A first shift for Wren Quill, sixteen: thermal engineer, Life Systems. The badge is printed fresh.
All boards green. I count 858 sleeping heartbeats and call it a good night's work, though the work is theirs.
Clara Tväten stands the walk of the full spinal corridor, as the sixteen-year custom is, and joins Hydroponics.
Iman Aaberg and Orrery Navarrete name their son Deneb. The nursery lamps stay warm.
Last shift for Cedric Peng, who joined Life Systems half a century ago. The crew line the corridor and knock wrenches on the rails.
A joining in Ring B: Harriet Petrov and Lyra Petrov. The pressing of cider is authorized.
Hydroponics Bays back in service. The old hands say it sounds better than before; the instruments say it sounds the same.
Hydroponics Bays faults in the middle watch. Hydroponics takes the call.
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.
Fern Tväten's crew brings Hydroponics Bays back after 3 days.
A wedding at brightening. Fern Fang, Life Systems; Widad Thorvaldsen, Command. The ship approves in its way: the lights held steady throughout.
Ulyana Valdivia, sixteen, takes the grafter apprenticeship in Hydroponics.
A failure in Hydroponics Bays. The duty crew is roused; tools move down the spinal corridor at a jog.
The hull ticks as it cools into the long night. Year 177, and I still log it faithfully: ticking, nominal.
Amparo Shen, sixteen, takes the sanitation engineer apprenticeship in Life Systems.
A new instrument from Viggo Diallo — “Harvests of Year 177.” The Archive takes a copy; the original belongs to whoever stands nearest.
Two names braided on the manifest tonight: Alejandro and Valentina. The commons sings late.
The hull ticks as it cools into the long night. Year 177, and I still log it faithfully: ticking, nominal.
The star ahead brightens by amounts only I can love: another week, another hundred-millionth of a magnitude.
Sojourn Quill and Verne Peng name their son Zikora. The nursery lamps stay warm.
Last shift for Pallas Ning, who joined Hydroponics half a century ago. The crew line the corridor and knock wrenches on the rails.
I dim the corridor lights a shade for Fadi Orellana, 61. It is little enough.
Night watch. The orchard sprinklers run their cycle, and the sound carries down the spine like weather.
A first shift for Mateo Fang, sixteen: soil keeper, Ecology. The badge is printed fresh.
Rotimi Petrov, sixteen, takes the midwife apprenticeship in Medical.
Departure Day, year 177. The founders' roll is read from the first name to the thousandth, and the young ones try to stay solemn.
Amina Thorvaldsen is delivered of a daughter at dimming. The child is called Mabel.
3.16 light-years remain. I have measured this voyage in breakfasts: some 22,871 thousand to go.
Born in the middle watch: Boreal Valdivia, generation 7. The ship holds 856 souls tonight.
Marzena Nwosu has made a mural called “What the Root Returns.” Asked what it means, she says it means about nine years of evenings.
A son, Wei Thorvaldsen, born in the Ring B infirmary to Beatriz Thorvaldsen and Yaw Ning. Mother and child are well.
Sixty-eight years: Ludmila Thorvaldsen hangs up the sash. An elder's quarters in Ring A stands ready.
3.17 light-years remain. I have measured this voyage in breakfasts: some 22,827 thousand to go.
Morale index reads 81. The number is crude. The singing from the mess confirms it.
The youngest aboard is now Konstantin Shen, minutes old, asleep. 854 souls.
All boards green. I count 853 sleeping heartbeats and call it a good night's work, though the work is theirs.
The manifest shortens by one: Jagdish Jaber, 77 years. 2 children carry the line on.
Fern Petrov coaxes a new bread yeast from the orchard air. The proof is in the mess by morning.
Funmilayo Ulriksen and Zenith Quill, joined. Their quarters are re-assigned adjoining, per custom.
Night watch. The orchard sprinklers run their cycle, and the sound carries down the spine like weather.
The hull ticks as it cools into the long night. Year 176, and I still log it faithfully: ticking, nominal.
Remembrance day. The memorial wall is polished by hand, though nothing aboard needs polishing less.
Ximena Fang chooses Fabrication — or it chooses her; the elders disagree cheerfully.
Lumen Petrov stands the walk of the full spinal corridor, as the sixteen-year custom is, and joins Life Systems.
A first shift for Stanislav Valdivia, sixteen: shield tech, Drive. The badge is printed fresh.
Ingrid Jaber stands down from Life Systems at sixty-eight, to the orchard benches and the long game of stones.
Chitra Ouyang and Amina Barakat name their son Ion. The nursery lamps stay warm.
Routine watch. The wheat in Bay 3 stands taller than its keepers. 26,803 days to orbit.