By council vote, Jorgen Danjuma takes the center chair as Captain. The watch changes hands without a tremor.
The Ship’s Log
Everything NOR has recorded since departure — the full record, newest first. One day aboard passes every hour of Earth time.
Last shift for Meera Sharma, who joined Command half a century ago. The crew line the corridor and knock wrenches on the rails.
The star ahead brightens by amounts only I can love: another week, another hundred-millionth of a magnitude.
A birth in Ring C: Anton, boy, generation 2. I have added the name to the manifest with the others.
The youngest aboard is now Octavio Pillai, minutes old, asleep. 873 souls.
Last shift for Peizhi Ding, who joined Hydroponics 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.
By council vote, Meera Sharma takes the center chair as Captain. The watch changes hands without a tremor.
Last shift for Ximena Aguirre, who joined Command half a century ago. The crew line the corridor and knock wrenches on the rails.
The manifest shortens by one: Per Solheim, 88 years. The line rests with the ship now.
“Watch for the Standing Harvest,” a mural by Arthur Ellery, is unveiled late in the second watch to the particular applause of Hydroponics.
Last shift for Nils Eriksen, who joined Ecology half a century ago. The crew line the corridor and knock wrenches on the rails.
A son, Jianguo Aaberg, born in the Ring A infirmary to Shanta Aaberg and Cedric Fang. Mother and child are well.
Year 46 of the voyage begins. The oldest bottle of orchard wine that can be spared is opened. It is always described as "improving."
The schools release Shanta Jaber to Hydroponics. Generation 2 takes up its tools.
Yamini Kapoor does not wake late in the second watch. 93 years, most of them given to Medical.
Titilayo Chike retires at brightening. The department logs a quiet debt it cannot repay in parts or hours.
Maja Fang has made a instrument called “Maps of Year 45.” Asked what it means, she says it means about nine years of evenings.
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.
I dim the corridor lights a shade for Iveta Titov, 81. It is little enough.
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.
Sixty-eight years: Noemí Orellana hangs up the sash. An elder's quarters in Ring A stands ready.
I dim the corridor lights a shade for Wenbo Yan, 81. It is little enough.
The hull ticks as it cools into the long night. Year 45, and I still log it faithfully: ticking, nominal.
Alice Pemberton retires on the first watch. The department logs a quiet debt it cannot repay in parts or hours.
Maja Fang is delivered of a son in the middle watch. The child is called Wenbo.
Census check: 874 souls, 154 of them children. The manifest balances to the person, as it must.
After 90 years, Chidinma Chukwu has let go. Remembrance in the Ring B commons at next dimming.
10.96 light-years remain. I have measured this voyage in breakfasts: some 65,252 thousand to go.
César Guzmán does not wake late in the second watch. 75 years, most of them given to Drive.
Sixty-eight years: Peizhi Zhou hangs up the sash. An elder's quarters in Ring B stands ready.
Morale index reads 69. The number is crude. The singing from the mess confirms it.
Sixty-eight years: Adaeze Chike hangs up the sash. An elder's quarters in Ring A stands ready.
The manifest shortens by one: Zemin Zhou, 82 years. The line rests with the ship now.
I dim the corridor lights a shade for Inés Ocampo, 92. It is little enough.
Last shift for Cristóbal Mendoza, 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.
Paloma Nwosu is delivered of a daughter at brightening. The child is called Vasanti.
Water reserve dips below the line. Showers go to ration timers; nobody sings in them, briefly.
10.97 light-years remain. I have measured this voyage in breakfasts: some 65,425 thousand to go.
Last shift for Salvador Escamilla, who joined Life Systems half a century ago. The crew line the corridor and knock wrenches on the rails.
“Distant Bell (Year 45),” a poem by Ernest Grantham, is unveiled at brightening to the particular applause of Fabrication.
The youngest aboard is now Fuhua Salazar, minutes old, asleep. 877 souls.
Mabel Mazur and Gilbert Fairburn name their son Quill. The nursery lamps stay warm.
Chief of Medical falls to Shu Song, who accepts with a nod and a full docket.
Sixty-eight years: Abebi Oyelaran hangs up the sash. An elder's quarters in Ring C stands ready.
Chief of Hydroponics falls to Raisa Gorbachev, who accepts with a nod and a full docket.
Suyin Shen stands down from Hydroponics at sixty-eight, to the orchard benches and the long game of stones.
The manifest shortens by one: Ramiro Palacios, 80 years. 1 children carry the line on.
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.