Routine watch. The wheat in Bay 3 stands taller than its keepers. 68,367 days to orbit.
The Ship’s Log
Everything NOR has recorded since departure — the full record, newest first. One day aboard passes every hour of Earth time.
The star ahead brightens by amounts only I can love: another week, another hundred-millionth of a magnitude.
Two names braided on the manifest tonight: Cygnet and Leticia. The commons sings late.
A birth in Ring B: Uzoma, boy, generation 3. I have added the name to the manifest with the others.
Remembrance. All names read since the last one — held in silence in every ring at the same hour. I keep the lights low until it is done.
9.95 light-years remain. I have measured this voyage in breakfasts: some 47,322 thousand to go.
Night watch. The orchard sprinklers run their cycle, and the sound carries down the spine like weather.
Arne Brekke does not wake on the first watch. 96 years, most of them given to Drive.
Zhihao Kong, 86, generation 0, is carried down the spinal corridor feet-first, as the custom is.
A new mural from Jaroslav Peng — “What the Ladder Grows.” The Archive takes a copy; the original belongs to whoever stands nearest.
A wedding late in the second watch. Hedda Tväten, Ecology; Amir Aaberg, Ecology. The ship approves in its way: the lights held steady throughout.
A daughter, Florence Thorvaldsen, born in the Ring C infirmary to Oddny Thorvaldsen and Nils Quaye. Mother and child are well.
Oluwadamilola Quill takes the hand of Chidinma Pillai before the assembled watch. I witness, as I witness everything.
Iris Northam and Ebba Ning name their son Hakon. The nursery lamps stay warm.
Sixteen years for Cristóbal Thorvaldsen, who signs to Fabrication in the middle watch and is given a locker, a sash, and a schedule.
The youngest aboard is now Oluwadamilola Diallo, minutes old, asleep. 692 souls.
After 94 years, Douglas Pemberton has let go. Remembrance in the Ring C commons at next dimming.
Routine watch. The wheat in Bay 3 stands taller than its keepers. 68,446 days to orbit.
Wenling Valdivia is delivered of a son at dimming. The child is called Sable.
Ngozi Diallo takes the hand of Kestrel Quill before the assembled watch. I witness, as I witness everything.
The manifest shortens by one: Ramiro Guzmán, 87 years. The line rests with the ship now.
Night watch. The orchard sprinklers run their cycle, and the sound carries down the spine like weather.
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.
All boards green. I count 692 sleeping heartbeats and call it a good night's work, though the work is theirs.
Cryostore restored after 2 weeks. Chidinma Pillai signs the work order and goes to sleep for a full watch.
Night watch. The orchard sprinklers run their cycle, and the sound carries down the spine like weather.
A birth in Ring A: Mariam, girl, generation 3. I have added the name to the manifest with the others.
I dim the corridor lights a shade for Noor Jaber, 62. It is little enough.
I dim the corridor lights a shade for Ekene Ogunleye, 81. It is little enough.
Nabil Rizk died in quarters late in the second watch, 87 years old. 693 souls aboard.
The question is put to the wider circle: The curriculum question. The ship asks; Earth answers, in its own long time.
9.97 light-years remain. I have measured this voyage in breakfasts: some 47,528 thousand to go.
Boreal Thorvaldsen is delivered of a son on the first watch. The child is called Sable.
Trouble in Cryostore. The board goes amber; the coffee goes on.
Yasmin Saab does not wake in the middle watch. 82 years, most of them given to Fabrication.
A daughter, Xenia Petrov, born in the Ring B infirmary to Galina Petrov and Lanying Ouyang. Mother and child are well.
The manifest shortens by one: Rosario Terrazas, 88 years. The line rests with the ship now.
“Quiet Corridor (Year 62),” a song by Huifen Peng, is unveiled in the middle watch to the particular applause of Ecology.
Quiet shift. I re-run the arrival calculations for the 4,810th time. They have not changed. I find this restful.
After 105 years, Chinedu Yeboah has let go. Remembrance in the Ring D commons at next dimming.
Maja Fang is delivered of a son on the first watch. The child is called Vega.
The star ahead brightens by amounts only I can love: another week, another hundred-millionth of a magnitude.
Morale index reads 70. The number is crude. The singing from the mess confirms it.
The hull ticks as it cools into the long night. Year 62, and I still log it faithfully: ticking, nominal.
Oddny Thorvaldsen and Nils Quaye, joined. Their quarters are re-assigned adjoining, per custom.
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.
Omar Titov finishes a song: “Gardens of the commons.” It shows in the commons through the week.
Alejandro Delgado, 85, generation 0, is carried down the spinal corridor feet-first, as the custom is.
First Light. The observation blister queues run all day: Teegarden's Star, held in the eyepiece, a little brighter than last year — 9.98 light-years to go.
A child in Ring C asks the corridor speaker what Earth smelled like. I play the rainstorm recording. It is the best answer I have.