After 76 years, Margaret Nwosu has let go. Remembrance in the Ring A commons at next dimming.
The Ship’s Log
Everything NOR has recorded since departure — the full record, newest first. One day aboard passes every hour of Earth time.
Halley Jaber stands the walk of the full spinal corridor, as the sixteen-year custom is, and joins Hydroponics.
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.
First watch. The orchard sprinklers run their cycle, and the sound carries down the spine like weather.
Morale index reads 84. The number is crude. The singing from the mess confirms it.
The star ahead brightens by amounts only I can love: another week, another hundred-millionth of a magnitude.
Sixty-eight years: Zenith Ouyang hangs up the sash. An elder's quarters in Ring C stands ready.
The hull ticks as it cools into the long night. Year 182, and I still log it faithfully: ticking, nominal.
Hedda Orellana does not wake on the first watch. 96 years, most of them given to Hydroponics.
Umbra Kong does not wake late in the second watch. 91 years, most of them given to Archive & Schools.
Pallas Thorvaldsen chooses Hydroponics — or it chooses him; the elders disagree cheerfully.
Aleksandr Navarrete does not wake late in the second watch. 79 years, most of them given to Hydroponics.
Albert Nwosu, sixteen, takes the signals officer apprenticeship in Command.
Baozhen Aaberg stands down from Life Systems at sixty-eight, to the orchard benches and the long game of stones.
Stanislav Fang, sixteen, takes the counselor apprenticeship in Medical.
Quiet shift. I re-run the arrival calculations for the 3,636th time. They have not changed. I find this restful.
Ulyana Valdivia and Leif Thorvaldsen are joined under the orchard lamps. The whole of Hydroponics turns out.
The youngest aboard is now Zenith Yan, minutes old, asleep. 863 souls.
Funmilayo Ulriksen and Zenith Quill name their daughter Titilayo. The nursery lamps stay warm.
Maja Tväten retires at brightening. The department logs a quiet debt it cannot repay in parts or hours.
Two names braided on the manifest tonight: Pallas and Bassam. The commons sings late.
Yasmin Petrov, 83, generation 4, is carried down the spinal corridor feet-first, as the custom is.
Amparo Shen has made a play called “Slow Door (Year 182).” Asked what it means, she says it means about nine years of evenings.
The Crossing. Every year it is observed, and every year someone stands to say the second half is the harder, and is booed warmly.
Two names braided on the manifest tonight: Rosario and Tern. The commons sings late.
A birth in Ring B: Zhenzhen, girl, generation 8. I have added the name to the manifest with the others.
Leticia Shen, 59, generation 5, is carried down the spinal corridor feet-first, as the custom is.
After 83 years, Freya Valdivia has let go. Remembrance in the Ring A commons at next dimming.
2.84 light-years remain. I have measured this voyage in breakfasts: some 21,328 thousand to go.
The star ahead brightens by amounts only I can love: another week, another hundred-millionth of a magnitude.
Maintenance sweep of Ring C complete. Somewhere aft a wrench is missing; it will surface in a decade, in a wall, with a story attached.
A child in Ring B asks the corridor speaker what Earth smelled like. I play the rainstorm recording. It is the best answer I have.
The hull ticks as it cools into the long night. Year 182, and I still log it faithfully: ticking, nominal.
Verne Petrov stands the walk of the full spinal corridor, as the sixteen-year custom is, and joins Archive & Schools.
A new tale-cycle from Eos Shen — “A hollow map.” The Archive takes a copy; the original belongs to whoever stands nearest.
A birth in Ring D: Boreal, boy, generation 7. I have added the name to the manifest with the others.
Zenith Mansour stands the walk of the full spinal corridor, as the sixteen-year custom is, and joins Medical.
Routine watch. The wheat in Bay 3 stands taller than its keepers. 24,750 days to orbit.
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.
Adewale Valdivia finishes a mural: “Windows of Bay 3.” It shows in the commons through the week.
Juniper Thorvaldsen and Mahesh Quill are joined under the orchard lamps. The whole of Ecology turns out.
First Light festival. The children are lifted to the eyepiece one by one to see where they are going.
Census check: 862 souls, 212 of them children. The manifest balances to the person, as it must.
Ulises Aaberg does not wake at brightening. 90 years, most of them given to Drive.
The star ahead brightens by amounts only I can love: another week, another hundred-millionth of a magnitude.
“Winters of Ring C,” a mural by Eleanor Thorvaldsen, is unveiled at dimming to the particular applause of Hydroponics.
The hull ticks as it cools into the long night. Year 182, and I still log it faithfully: ticking, nominal.
Routine watch. The wheat in Bay 3 stands taller than its keepers. 24,781 days to orbit.
Martin Sharma retires on the night watch. The department logs a quiet debt it cannot repay in parts or hours.
Adrián Petrov and Clara Tväten are joined under the orchard lamps. The whole of Drive turns out.