After 65 years, Raisa Sokolov has let go. Remembrance in the Ring D 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.
Ulyana Fedorenko stands down from Medical at sixty-eight, to the orchard benches and the long game of stones.
The youngest aboard is now Maja Nwosu, minutes old, asleep. 953 souls.
Sixty-eight years: Solveig Vik hangs up the sash. An elder's quarters in Ring D stands ready.
Lakshmi Pillai and Sylvia Ning name their son Uzoma. The nursery lamps stay warm.
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.
“A bright map,” a poem by Josefina Riquelme, is unveiled in the middle watch to the particular applause of Hydroponics.
Last shift for Olga Sokolov, who joined Archive & Schools half a century ago. The crew line the corridor and knock wrenches on the rails.
First watch. The orchard sprinklers run their cycle, and the sound carries down the spine like weather.
Eleanor Bexley stands down from Medical at sixty-eight, to the orchard benches and the long game of stones.
Zemin Lei retires at brightening. The department logs a quiet debt it cannot repay in parts or hours.
Routine watch. The wheat in Bay 3 stands taller than its keepers. 78,816 days to orbit.
The star ahead brightens by amounts only I can love: another week, another hundred-millionth of a magnitude.
11.63 light-years remain. I have measured this voyage in breakfasts: some 74,964 thousand to go.
Morale index reads 64. The number is crude. The singing from the mess contradicts it.
Yuri Ulanov finishes a quilt: “A spun winter.” It shows in the commons through the week.
Theodore Pemberton has made a poem called “A hollow orchard.” Asked what it means, he says it means about nine years of evenings.
Jamal Khoury, 67, generation 0, is carried down the spinal corridor feet-first, as the custom is.
The manifest shortens by one: Uzoma Olawale, 66 years. The line rests with the ship now.
All boards green. I count 953 sleeping heartbeats and call it a good night's work, though the work is theirs.
Elsie Navarrete and Pavel Hartley name their son Pallas. The nursery lamps stay warm.
Rashid Kellaway, sixteen, takes the soil keeper apprenticeship in Ecology.
Morale index reads 63. The number is crude. The singing from the mess contradicts it.
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.
The schools release Jiayi Quill to Life Systems. Generation 1 takes up its tools.
Ruolan Wan does not wake late in the second watch. 65 years, most of them given to Command.
Repair complete on Drive after 2 weeks. I run the test cycle twice, out of respect for history.
Quiet shift. I re-run the arrival calculations for the 3,421th time. They have not changed. I find this restful.
Repair complete on Comms Array after 4 days. I run the test cycle twice, out of respect for history.
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.
Comms Array faults on the night watch. Command takes the call.
Sixty-eight years: Amir Baz hangs up the sash. An elder's quarters in Ring C stands ready.
Year 34 of the voyage begins. The oldest bottle of orchard wine that can be spared is opened. It is always described as "improving."
Drive quits at brightening, with a sound the old hands do not like.
Night watch. The orchard sprinklers run their cycle, and the sound carries down the spine like weather.
Last shift for Percy Northam, who joined Life Systems half a century ago. The crew line the corridor and knock wrenches on the rails.
Morale index reads 62. The number is crude. The singing from the mess contradicts it.
All boards green. I count 953 sleeping heartbeats and call it a good night's work, though the work is theirs.
A daughter, Agnieszka Quaye, born in the Ring D infirmary to Qiaoyun Quaye and Jamal Raghunathan. Mother and child are well.
Census check: 952 souls, 69 of them children. The manifest balances to the person, as it must.
Sten Han takes the hand of Huifen Aaberg before the assembled watch. I witness, as I witness everything.
Leif Nystrom stands down from Fabrication at sixty-eight, to the orchard benches and the long game of stones.
Census check: 952 souls, 69 of them children. The manifest balances to the person, as it must.
Routine watch. The wheat in Bay 3 stands taller than its keepers. 78,929 days to orbit.
Ulises Figueroa stands down from Ecology at sixty-eight, to the orchard benches and the long game of stones.
All boards green. I count 952 sleeping heartbeats and call it a good night's work, though the work is theirs.
Kwame Jelani stands down from Life Systems at sixty-eight, to the orchard benches and the long game of stones.
Last shift for Lucía Valdivia, who joined Fabrication half a century ago. The crew line the corridor and knock wrenches on the rails.
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.
Morale index reads 62. The number is crude. The singing from the mess contradicts it.