Middle watch. The orchard sprinklers run their cycle, and the sound carries down the spine like weather.
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 4,138th time. They have not changed. I find this restful.
Atmosphere processing faults at dimming. Scrubber margins hold; the smell of the ship changes, and everyone notices.
Census check: 859 souls, 202 of them children. The manifest balances to the person, as it must.
Quiet shift. I re-run the arrival calculations for the 4,130th time. They have not changed. I find this restful.
I dim the corridor lights a shade for Sami Quill, 68. It is little enough.
Caelum Sharma's crew brings Thermal Control back after 2 weeks.
First watch. The orchard sprinklers run their cycle, and the sound carries down the spine like weather.
Thermal Control faults on the first watch. Life Systems takes the call.
“A patient thread,” a play by Guowei Nwosu, is unveiled on the first watch to the particular applause of Drive.
First watch. The orchard sprinklers run their cycle, and the sound carries down the spine like weather.
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.
Last shift for Helm Thorvaldsen, who joined Hydroponics half a century ago. The crew line the corridor and knock wrenches on the rails.
Remembrance day. The memorial wall is polished by hand, though nothing aboard needs polishing less.
Quiet shift. I re-run the arrival calculations for the 4,089th time. They have not changed. I find this restful.
Green across the board: Hydroponics Bays holds within the day of work. Spares were spent; Fabrication is notified.
Morale index reads 81. The number is crude. The singing from the mess confirms it.
Trouble in Hydroponics Bays. The board goes amber; the coffee goes on.
2.76 light-years remain. I have measured this voyage in breakfasts: some 20,860 thousand to go.
Xiaohui Shen has died at 12, far too early. the ship stands down a shift in grief.
The schools release Leticia Quill to Drive. Generation 6 takes up its tools.
Samira Quill died in quarters on the first watch, 79 years old. 861 souls aboard.
All boards green. I count 862 sleeping heartbeats and call it a good night's work, though the work is theirs.
I dim the corridor lights a shade for Yaling Valdivia, 60. It is little enough.
Caelum Thorvaldsen documents a new strain among the pollinator moths, wings the color of hull metal.
A first shift for Nnamdi Tväten, sixteen: nurse, Medical. The badge is printed fresh.
Sixty-eight years: Fathom Nwosu hangs up the sash. An elder's quarters in Ring B stands ready.
The hull ticks as it cools into the long night. Year 183, and I still log it faithfully: ticking, nominal.
Zenith Aaberg and Zahra Thorvaldsen are joined under the orchard lamps. The whole of Life Systems turns out.
The circle has answered. The evenings belong to the ship's own voices. The commons learn each other's songs, and the applause is for people with quarters three doors down.
A birth in Ring C: Yusheng, boy, generation 7. I have added the name to the manifest with the others.
Boreal Quill chooses Hydroponics — or it chooses her; the elders disagree cheerfully.
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 schools release Juniper Sharma to Hydroponics. Generation 6 takes up its tools.
A joining in Ring D: Altair Shen and Grigori Shen. The pressing of cider is authorized.
Nikolai Zhao has made a play called “Orchards of the drive gallery.” Asked what it means, he says it means about nine years of evenings.
The Crossing feast: more behind than ahead. The long tables come out; the good preserves come down.
The schools release Bassam Aaberg to Archive & Schools. Generation 6 takes up its tools.
All boards green. I count 862 sleeping heartbeats and call it a good night's work, though the work is theirs.
Sixteen years for Teodoro Kong, who signs to Medical at dimming and is given a locker, a sash, and a schedule.
A son, Lyra Fang, born in the Ring A infirmary to Gayatri Fang and Anand Valdivia. Mother and child are well.
2.78 light-years remain. I have measured this voyage in breakfasts: some 20,978 thousand to go.
Carmen Fang finishes a play: “What the Window Grows.” It shows in the commons through the week.
Pilar Sharma is made Chief of Life Systems, and marks it by standing the ordinary shift anyway.
Hernán Fang retires on the first watch. The department logs a quiet debt it cannot repay in parts or hours.
First Light festival. The children are lifted to the eyepiece one by one to see where they are going.
Middle watch. The orchard sprinklers run their cycle, and the sound carries down the spine like weather.
A daughter, Oddny Thorvaldsen, born in the Ring D infirmary to Deneb Thorvaldsen and Kofi Orellana. Mother and child are well.
Qing Thorvaldsen stands the walk of the full spinal corridor, as the sixteen-year custom is, and joins Life Systems.
The hull ticks as it cools into the long night. Year 183, and I still log it faithfully: ticking, nominal.