Adaeze Sharma, sixteen, takes the water systems tech apprenticeship in Life Systems.
The Ship’s Log
Everything NOR has recorded since departure — the full record, newest first. One day aboard passes every hour of Earth time.
Quiet shift. I re-run the arrival calculations for the 2,600th time. They have not changed. I find this restful.
A first shift for Rashid Fang, sixteen: pharmacist, Medical. The badge is printed fresh.
The hull ticks as it cools into the long night. Year 179, and I still log it faithfully: ticking, nominal.
I dim the corridor lights a shade for Ada Yan, 87. It is little enough.
A child in Ring C asks the corridor speaker what Earth smelled like. I play the rainstorm recording. It is the best answer I have.
Umbra Thorvaldsen is confirmed Captain late in the second watch, and asks, first of all, for the harvest figures.
Last shift for Wei Nwosu, who joined Command half a century ago. The crew line the corridor and knock wrenches on the rails.
Lyra Aaberg and Jiayi Quill, joined. Their quarters are re-assigned adjoining, per custom.
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.
Sixteen years for Ekundayo Jaber, who signs to Hydroponics on the first watch and is given a locker, a sash, and a schedule.
The Crossing feast: more behind than ahead. The long tables come out; the good preserves come down.
A wedding in the middle watch. Ravindra Nwosu, Hydroponics; Umbra Fang, Drive. The ship approves in its way: the lights held steady throughout.
The youngest aboard is now Rell Aaberg, minutes old, asleep. 851 souls.
Bhaskar Sharma and Lucía Mansour are joined under the orchard lamps. The whole of Archive & Schools turns out.
Two names braided on the manifest tonight: Altair and Sojourn. The commons sings late.
A child in Ring D asks the corridor speaker what Earth smelled like. I play the rainstorm recording. It is the best answer I have.
“Winter for the Quiet Anchor,” a poem by Lyra Peng, is unveiled in the middle watch to the particular applause of Archive & Schools.
Percy Nwosu takes the hand of Kestrel Navarrete before the assembled watch. I witness, as I witness everything.
Kehinde Ouyang does not wake in the middle watch. 81 years, most of them given to Fabrication.
Gunhild Barakat does not wake late in the second watch. 100 years, most of them given to Archive & Schools.
First Light festival. The children are lifted to the eyepiece one by one to see where they are going.
Census check: 852 souls, 214 of them children. The manifest balances to the person, as it must.
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.
Keel Quill, sixteen, takes the aquarist apprenticeship in Ecology.
Water Reclamation restored after 2 weeks. Halley Thorvaldsen signs the work order and goes to sleep for a full watch.
A failure in Water Reclamation. The duty crew is roused; tools move down the spinal corridor at a jog.
A son, Kang Diallo, born in the Ring A infirmary to Lumen Diallo and Howard Tväten. Mother and child are well.
Quill Pillai takes the hand of Vega Petrov before the assembled watch. I witness, as I witness everything.
Routine watch. The wheat in Bay 3 stands taller than its keepers. 25,904 days to orbit.
The manifest shortens by one: Cygnet Petrov, 88 years. 2 children carry the line on.
Sixteen years for Keel Quill, who signs to Archive & Schools at dimming and is given a locker, a sash, and a schedule.
A first shift for Ekaterina Ouyang, sixteen: seedkeeper, Hydroponics. The badge is printed fresh.
Born on the first watch: Lyra Petrov, generation 8. The ship holds 852 souls tonight.
A first shift for Kestrel Ulriksen, sixteen: seedkeeper, Hydroponics. The badge is printed fresh.
Nabil Thorvaldsen has made a play called “The Quiet Garden.” Asked what it means, he says it means about nine years of evenings.
Ernest Aaberg stands down from Drive at sixty-eight, to the orchard benches and the long game of stones.
The star ahead brightens by amounts only I can love: another week, another hundred-millionth of a magnitude.
The hull ticks as it cools into the long night. Year 179, and I still log it faithfully: ticking, nominal.
The manifest shortens by one: Cygnet Jaber, 88 years. 1 children carry the line on.
3.04 light-years remain. I have measured this voyage in breakfasts: some 22,105 thousand to go.
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.
“Bright Bell (Year 179),” a quilt by Svetlana Fang, is unveiled on the night watch to the particular applause of Medical.
Census check: 852 souls, 216 of them children. The manifest balances to the person, as it must.
Middle watch. The orchard sprinklers run their cycle, and the sound carries down the spine like weather.
A birth in Ring B: Radhika, girl, generation 7. 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.
Sixteen years for Ramiro Fang, who signs to Ecology on the first watch and is given a locker, a sash, and a schedule.
Caelum Thorvaldsen and Fern Orellana name their son Bruno. The nursery lamps stay warm.
Year 179 of the voyage begins. The oldest bottle of orchard wine that can be spared is opened. It is always described as "improving."