Last shift for Ragnar Tväten, who joined Hydroponics half a century ago. The crew line the corridor and knock wrenches on the rails.
The Ship’s Log
Everything NOR has recorded since departure — the full record, newest first. One day aboard passes every hour of Earth time.
Lanying Lei died in quarters late in the second watch, 69 years old. 1021 souls aboard.
A joining in Ring D: Omar Titov and Paloma Nwosu. The pressing of cider is authorized.
Sixty-eight years: Ylva Bergstrom hangs up the sash. An elder's quarters in Ring C stands ready.
First Light festival. The children are lifted to the eyepiece one by one to see where they are going.
Sixty-eight years: Naresh Pillai hangs up the sash. An elder's quarters in Ring D stands ready.
Last shift for Nneka Nwosu, who joined Hydroponics half a century ago. The crew line the corridor and knock wrenches on the rails.
All boards green. I count 1022 sleeping heartbeats and call it a good night's work, though the work is theirs.
Per Solheim retires on the first watch. The department logs a quiet debt it cannot repay in parts or hours.
Last shift for Cristóbal Bustamante, who joined Medical half a century ago. The crew line the corridor and knock wrenches on the rails.
Jianguo Feng stands down from Fabrication at sixty-eight, to the orchard benches and the long game of stones.
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.
Sixty-eight years: Chinedu Yeboah hangs up the sash. An elder's quarters in Ring C stands ready.
Last shift for Modupe Oyelaran, who joined Fabrication half a century ago. The crew line the corridor and knock wrenches on the rails.
Quiet shift. I re-run the arrival calculations for the 163th time. They have not changed. I find this restful.
Omar Hamdan has died at 54, far too early. Hydroponics stands down a shift in grief.
I dim the corridor lights a shade for Adnan Wahba, 71. It is little enough.
Edith Aldous stands down from Fabrication at sixty-eight, to the orchard benches and the long game of stones.
Census check: 1024 souls, 58 of them children. The manifest balances to the person, as it must.
Maintenance sweep of Ring B complete. Somewhere aft a wrench is missing; it will surface in a decade, in a wall, with a story attached.
Sixty-eight years: Vasanti Verma hangs up the sash. An elder's quarters in Ring A stands ready.
Quiet shift. I re-run the arrival calculations for the 142th time. They have not changed. I find this restful.
Lärä Fossum is delivered of a son on the night watch. The child is called Stanley.
Sixteen years for Chitra Mansour, who signs to Medical at brightening and is given a locker, a sash, and a schedule.
Two names braided on the manifest tonight: Elsie and Pavel. The commons sings late.
“Three Lanterns Sleeping,” a play by Farida Mansour, is unveiled on the night watch to the particular applause of Drive.
Departure Day, year 25. The founders' roll is read from the first name to the thousandth, and the young ones try to stay solemn.
Safiya Ghanem retires in the middle watch. The department logs a quiet debt it cannot repay in parts or hours.
A new mural from Bruno Bustamante — “What the Orchard Remembers.” The Archive takes a copy; the original belongs to whoever stands nearest.
Signe Tväten died in quarters late in the second watch, 73 years old. 1023 souls aboard.
A second child follows on the night watch: twins for Noor Jaber. This one is called Rajesh.
Noor Jaber and Theodore Lal name their son Babatunde. The nursery lamps stay warm.
Finn Wangberg stands down from Hydroponics at sixty-eight, to the orchard benches and the long game of stones.
12.04 light-years remain. I have measured this voyage in breakfasts: some 84,009 thousand to go.
The Assembly reaches its accord: schedules loosened, stores opened a measure, and a promise recorded in the permanent log. The ship exhales.
Night watch. The orchard sprinklers run their cycle, and the sound carries down the spine like weather.
Routine watch. The wheat in Bay 3 stands taller than its keepers. 82,214 days to orbit.
The manifest shortens by one: Olga Gorbachev, 62 years. The line rests with the ship now.
Qiang Song has died at 50, far too early. Fabrication stands down a shift in grief.
NOR Compute Core back in service. The old hands say it sounds better than before; the instruments say it sounds the same.
The Ship's Assembly convenes in the largest commons. Everyone who wishes to speaks. I keep time and hold the record, nothing more.
NOR Compute Core quits on the night watch, with a sound the old hands do not like.
Last shift for Iris Ormsby, who joined Ecology half a century ago. The crew line the corridor and knock wrenches on the rails.
Radomir Quintana chooses Drive — or it chooses him; the elders disagree cheerfully.
Grievances posted in three commons at once — hours, rations, and the shape of the future. The signatures fill a corridor wall.
Ruth Zhou has died at 7, far too early. the ship stands down a shift in grief.
Morale index reads 47. The number is crude. The singing from the mess contradicts it.
I dim the corridor lights a shade for Amina Yacoub, 67. It is little enough.
Sixty-eight years: Chinedu Mba hangs up the sash. An elder's quarters in Ring B stands ready.
Hanan Haddad, 70, generation 0, is carried down the spinal corridor feet-first, as the custom is.