Last shift for Zhenzhen Huang, who joined Life Systems 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.
Quiet shift. I re-run the arrival calculations for the 1,768th time. They have not changed. I find this restful.
“Warm Season, Whole Root,” a play by Babatunde Ndiaye, is unveiled at brightening to the particular applause of Command.
Ingrid Vik finishes a song: “Bell for the Whole Water.” It shows in the commons through the week.
All boards green. I count 1001 sleeping heartbeats and call it a good night's work, though the work is theirs.
Harvest arithmetic turns unkind: reserves under twenty days. Hydroponics doubles shifts among the racks.
Bruno Zambrano stands down from Fabrication at sixty-eight, to the orchard benches and the long game of stones.
Kang Feng retires on the first watch. The department logs a quiet debt it cannot repay in parts or hours.
Percy Escamilla takes the hand of Gunhild Thorvaldsen before the assembled watch. I witness, as I witness everything.
The circle has answered. The overhaul is deferred. The drive is nursed watch to watch, and the spares stay banked against a darker day.
Quiet shift. I re-run the arrival calculations for the 1,738th time. They have not changed. I find this restful.
Bruno Ocampo stands down from Medical at sixty-eight, to the orchard benches and the long game of stones.
Census check: 1001 souls, 56 of them children. The manifest balances to the person, as it must.
Yusuf Ismail stands down from Archive & Schools at sixty-eight, to the orchard benches and the long game of stones.
Census check: 1001 souls, 56 of them children. The manifest balances to the person, as it must.
First Light festival. The children are lifted to the eyepiece one by one to see where they are going.
“Harvests of the commons,” a mural by Evgeni Litvin, is unveiled at dimming to the particular applause of Fabrication.
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.
Patricio Terrazas retires late in the second watch. The department logs a quiet debt it cannot repay in parts or hours.
Census check: 1001 souls, 56 of them children. The manifest balances to the person, as it must.
Freya Paulsen, 62, generation 0, is carried down the spinal corridor feet-first, as the custom is.
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.
A joining in Ring D: Ravindra Yamin and Chitra Mansour. The pressing of cider is authorized.
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.
Darya Sokolov does not wake at dimming. 69 years, most of them given to Drive.
Middle watch. The orchard sprinklers run their cycle, and the sound carries down the spine like weather.
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.
Bruno Barrientos is made Chief of Command, and marks it by standing the ordinary shift anyway.
Xiaohui Ma stands down from Command at sixty-eight, to the orchard benches and the long game of stones.
Morale index reads 67. The number is crude. The singing from the mess confirms it.
Last shift for Basma Othman, who joined Archive & Schools half a century ago. The crew line the corridor and knock wrenches on the rails.
Chidinma Adeyemi stands down from Hydroponics at sixty-eight, to the orchard benches and the long game of stones.
The hull ticks as it cools into the long night. Year 29, and I still log it faithfully: ticking, nominal.
Sixty-eight years: Mohan Kapoor hangs up the sash. An elder's quarters in Ring B stands ready.
Sixty-eight years: Bogdan Lebedev hangs up the sash. An elder's quarters in Ring D stands ready.
A new tale-cycle from Farida Bishara — “Four Watchs Rising.” The Archive takes a copy; the original belongs to whoever stands nearest.
Rocío Figueroa stands down from Fabrication at sixty-eight, to the orchard benches and the long game of stones.
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.
Dinesh Gokhale's crew brings Drive back after 6 days.
All boards green. I count 1003 sleeping heartbeats and call it a good night's work, though the work is theirs.
The question is put to the wider circle: The drive overhaul. The ship asks; Earth answers, in its own long time.
Trouble in Drive. The board goes amber; the coffee goes on.
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.
Sixty-eight years: Winifred Vance hangs up the sash. An elder's quarters in Ring D stands ready.
The hull ticks as it cools into the long night. Year 29, and I still log it faithfully: ticking, nominal.
Sixty-eight years: Ramiro Juárez hangs up the sash. An elder's quarters in Ring C stands ready.
Last shift for Ylva Rasmussen, who joined Life Systems half a century ago. The crew line the corridor and knock wrenches on the rails.
A new play from Hanan Rahman — “Watchs of Year 29.” The Archive takes a copy; the original belongs to whoever stands nearest.
Polina Orlov, 75, generation 0, is carried down the spinal corridor feet-first, as the custom is.
11.87 light-years remain. I have measured this voyage in breakfasts: some 81,048 thousand to go.