The youngest aboard is now Renshu Thorvaldsen, minutes old, asleep. 957 souls.
The Ship’s Log
Everything NOR has recorded since departure — the full record, newest first. One day aboard passes every hour of Earth time.
I dim the corridor lights a shade for Marzena Gorbachev, 77. It is little enough.
Leticia Noriega does not wake in the middle watch. 76 years, most of them given to Command.
Olaf Iversen retires at dimming. The department logs a quiet debt it cannot repay in parts or hours.
Census check: 958 souls, 62 of them children. The manifest balances to the person, as it must.
Census check: 958 souls, 62 of them children. The manifest balances to the person, as it must.
The manifest shortens by one: Karima Shadid, 77 years. The line rests with the ship now.
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.
Fatima Yamin finishes a play: “Ladder for the Whole Harvest.” It shows in the commons through the week.
Quiet shift. I re-run the arrival calculations for the 2,733th time. They have not changed. I find this restful.
Sten Bergstrom retires in the middle watch. The department logs a quiet debt it cannot repay in parts or hours.
The manifest shortens by one: Hilde Moller, 72 years. The line rests with the ship now.
The Assembly reaches its accord: schedules loosened, stores opened a measure, and a promise recorded in the permanent log. The ship exhales.
Bruno Bustamante has made a tale-cycle called “Wheel for the Last Bell.” Asked what it means, he says it means about nine years of evenings.
Dominika Romanov stands down from Ecology at sixty-eight, to the orchard benches and the long game of stones.
Chandran Tendulkar has died at 54, far too early. Drive stands down a shift in grief.
Census check: 961 souls, 62 of them children. The manifest balances to the person, as it must.
The Ship's Assembly convenes in the largest commons. Everyone who wishes to speaks. I keep time and hold the record, nothing more.
11.74 light-years remain. I have measured this voyage in breakfasts: some 76,499 thousand to go.
Hanan Tahan stands down from Life Systems at sixty-eight, to the orchard benches and the long game of stones.
Ivar Paulsen stands down from Archive & Schools at sixty-eight, to the orchard benches and the long game of stones.
I dim the corridor lights a shade for Mariam Mansour, 68. It is little enough.
A work slowdown moves through the departments, orderly and cold. The ship runs; the ship also waits.
Morale index reads 42. The number is crude. The singing from the mess contradicts it.
Sixteen years for Kavita Pillai, who signs to Life Systems on the night watch and is given a locker, a sash, and a schedule.
Chinedu Lawal has made a quilt called “What the Window Remembers.” Asked what it means, he says it means about nine years of evenings.
After 73 years, Shanta Devi has let go. Remembrance in the Ring A commons at next dimming.
Comms Array back in service. The old hands say it sounds better than before; the instruments say it sounds the same.
Departure Day, year 32. The founders' roll is read from the first name to the thousandth, and the young ones try to stay solemn.
A birth in Ring A: Iveta, girl, generation 2. I have added the name to the manifest with the others.
Last shift for Farida Baz, who joined Drive half a century ago. The crew line the corridor and knock wrenches on the rails.
Comms Array goes down. I reroute what can be rerouted and wake who must be woken.
Annika Nystrom does not wake in the middle watch. 73 years, most of them given to Hydroponics.
I dim the corridor lights a shade for Modupe Oyelaran, 74. It is little enough.
After 55 years, Clifford Vance has let go. Remembrance in the Ring A commons at next dimming.
Guiying Deng finishes a quilt: “What the Window Holds.” It shows in the commons through the week.
Morale index reads 45. The number is crude. The singing from the mess contradicts it.
I dim the corridor lights a shade for Ragnhild Ahlgren, 56. It is little enough.
The manifest shortens by one: Anders Ahlgren, 65 years. The line rests with the ship now.
Too soon, at 31: Lärä Fossum. The commons fills on the first watch with those who knew her.
Chief of Archive & Schools falls to Ingrid Ulriksen, who accepts with a nod and a full docket.
Stanley Pemberton retires in the middle watch. The department logs a quiet debt it cannot repay in parts or hours.
Census check: 968 souls, 62 of them children. The manifest balances to the person, as it must.
Leandro Pemberton, sixteen, takes the reactor tech apprenticeship in Drive.
Clara Pemberton stands down from Archive & Schools at sixty-eight, to the orchard benches and the long game of stones.
All boards green. I count 968 sleeping heartbeats and call it a good night's work, though the work is theirs.
First watch. The orchard sprinklers run their cycle, and the sound carries down the spine like weather.
Remembrance day. The memorial wall is polished by hand, though nothing aboard needs polishing less.
Water Reclamation restored after 2 weeks. Ngozi Uche signs the work order and goes to sleep for a full watch.
Vera Orellana and Ramiro Lockhart name their daughter Zahra. The nursery lamps stay warm.