The youngest aboard is now Esperanza Singh, minutes old, asleep. 801 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.
Zhenzhen Huang, 88, generation 0, is carried down the spinal corridor feet-first, as the custom is.
After 89 years, Rocío Figueroa has let go. Remembrance in the Ring D commons at next dimming.
I dim the corridor lights a shade for Safiya Bishara, 69. It is little enough.
First Light. The observation blister queues run all day: Teegarden's Star, held in the eyepiece, a little brighter than last year — 10.70 light-years to go.
The manifest shortens by one: Shu Song, 69 years. The line rests with the ship now.
Two names braided on the manifest tonight: Lars and Shanta. The commons sings late.
Maja Fang and Clifford Barrientos name their daughter Lucía. The nursery lamps stay warm.
“Inward Door, Patient Door,” a song by Ludmila Dragunov, is unveiled in the middle watch to the particular applause of Drive.
Maja Nwosu, sixteen, takes the toolmaker apprenticeship in Fabrication.
The hull ticks as it cools into the long night. Year 50, and I still log it faithfully: ticking, nominal.
Uzoma Pillai, sixteen, takes the historian apprenticeship in Archive & Schools.
Maintenance sweep of Ring D complete. Somewhere aft a wrench is missing; it will surface in a decade, in a wall, with a story attached.
I dim the corridor lights a shade for Yakubu Abiodun, 73. It is little enough.
Jiayi Shen works out a tougher print alloy from recycler feedstock. Fabrication adopts it the same week.
Census check: 804 souls, 171 of them children. The manifest balances to the person, as it must.
“Engines of Ring B,” a quilt by Ingrid Rasmussen, is unveiled on the night watch to the particular applause of Command.
Morale index reads 67. The number is crude. The singing from the mess confirms it.
Zofia Morozov does not wake at brightening. 80 years, most of them given to Archive & Schools.
After 83 years, Aleksandr Babich has let go. Remembrance in the Ring D commons at next dimming.
Born on the night watch: Anton Shen, generation 3. The ship holds 806 souls tonight.
Morale index reads 68. The number is crude. The singing from the mess confirms it.
Pallas Navarrete chooses Drive — or it chooses him; the elders disagree cheerfully.
The youngest aboard is now Adrián Salazar, minutes old, asleep. 805 souls.
Vasili Romanov died in quarters on the night watch, 85 years old. 804 souls aboard.
A new tale-cycle from Ludmila Mazur — “Roots of the orchard.” The Archive takes a copy; the original belongs to whoever stands nearest.
Arne Paulsen does not wake at dimming. 71 years, most of them given to Life Systems.
I dim the corridor lights a shade for Mahmoud Rahman, 75. It is little enough.
Night watch. The orchard sprinklers run their cycle, and the sound carries down the spine like weather.
Departure Day, year 50. The founders' roll is read from the first name to the thousandth, and the young ones try to stay solemn.
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.
Hassan Wahba does not wake on the first watch. 80 years, most of them given to Fabrication.
Sixteen years for Agnieszka Quaye, who signs to Drive late in the second watch and is given a locker, a sash, and a schedule.
Lev Babich does not wake late in the second watch. 94 years, most of them given to Medical.
Tarun Trivedi retires at dimming. The department logs a quiet debt it cannot repay in parts or hours.
The star ahead brightens by amounts only I can love: another week, another hundred-millionth of a magnitude.
I dim the corridor lights a shade for Bogdan Tereshkova, 91. It is little enough.
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.
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.
Dolores Kong and Khalid Jaber name their son Renshu. The nursery lamps stay warm.
Ganesh Varma died in quarters in the middle watch, 82 years old. 810 souls aboard.
Night watch. The orchard sprinklers run their cycle, and the sound carries down the spine like weather.
The schools release Drift Thorvaldsen to Hydroponics. Generation 2 takes up its tools.
A new poem from Uday Trivedi — “A long lantern.” The Archive takes a copy; the original belongs to whoever stands nearest.
Remembrance day. The memorial wall is polished by hand, though nothing aboard needs polishing less.
Last shift for Dolores Quintana, who joined Drive half a century ago. The crew line the corridor and knock wrenches on the rails.
Gonzalo Juárez retires at brightening. The department logs a quiet debt it cannot repay in parts or hours.
Born late in the second watch: Fern Diallo, generation 2. The ship holds 810 souls tonight.
Qasim Saab stands down from Drive 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.