A first shift for Ylva Thorvaldsen, sixteen: toolmaker, Fabrication. The badge is printed fresh.
The Ship’s Log
Everything NOR has recorded since departure — the full record, newest first. One day aboard passes every hour of Earth time.
All boards green. I count 765 sleeping heartbeats and call it a good night's work, though the work is theirs.
Sixteen years for Elsie Mazur, who signs to Life Systems late in the second watch and is given a locker, a sash, and a schedule.
Born in the middle watch: Pearl Petrov, generation 4. The ship holds 765 souls tonight.
The schools release Ikenna Jaber to Medical. Generation 3 takes up its tools.
A son, Bjorn Nwosu, born in the Ring D infirmary to Lumen Nwosu and Caelum Sharma. Mother and child are well.
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.
I dim the corridor lights a shade for Signe Paulsen, 92. It is little enough.
Morale index reads 83. The number is crude. The singing from the mess confirms it.
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.
The star ahead brightens by amounts only I can love: another week, another hundred-millionth of a magnitude.
First watch. The orchard sprinklers run their cycle, and the sound carries down the spine like weather.
First Light. The observation blister queues run all day: Teegarden's Star, held in the eyepiece, a little brighter than last year — 9.33 light-years to go.
Routine watch. The wheat in Bay 3 stands taller than its keepers. 64,553 days to orbit.
A new poem from Mahmoud Pemberton — “Watchs of Year 73.” The Archive takes a copy; the original belongs to whoever stands nearest.
All boards green. I count 764 sleeping heartbeats and call it a good night's work, though the work is theirs.
A birth in Ring D: Gunhild, girl, generation 3. I have added the name to the manifest with the others.
Tomasz Ning stands the walk of the full spinal corridor, as the sixteen-year custom is, and joins Life Systems.
Chitra Shen stands the walk of the full spinal corridor, as the sixteen-year custom is, and joins Command.
Nanna Ouyang and Sergei Petrov name their son Zaid. The nursery lamps stay warm.
A birth in Ring B: Teegarden, boy, generation 3. I have added the name to the manifest with the others.
All boards green. I count 761 sleeping heartbeats and call it a good night's work, though the work is theirs.
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.
Routine watch. The wheat in Bay 3 stands taller than its keepers. 64,579 days to orbit.
Edmund Pillai and Arc Jaber are joined under the orchard lamps. The whole of Command turns out.
The question is put to the wider circle: The broadcast hours. The ship asks; Earth answers, in its own long time.
Born late in the second watch: Vera Tväten, generation 3. The ship holds 761 souls tonight.
Frederick Kingsley, 105, generation 0, is carried down the spinal corridor feet-first, as the custom is.
The youngest aboard is now Deneb Zhao, minutes old, asleep. 761 souls.
A first shift for Iveta Pillai, sixteen: nurse, Medical. The badge is printed fresh.
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.
The youngest aboard is now Chinedu Valdivia, minutes old, asleep. 760 souls.
Ngozi Shen and Salvador Thorvaldsen are joined under the orchard lamps. The whole of Life Systems turns out.
Divya Peng stands the walk of the full spinal corridor, as the sixteen-year custom is, and joins Hydroponics.
Night watch. The orchard sprinklers run their cycle, and the sound carries down the spine like weather.
Beatriz Sharma finishes a instrument: “Seven Maps Sleeping.” It shows in the commons through the week.
A birth in Ring D: Teegarden, boy, generation 3. I have added the name to the manifest with the others.
Sixteen years for Salvador Petrov, who signs to Fabrication at brightening and is given a locker, a sash, and a schedule.
Cygnet Zhao and Yash Salazar name their son Nicolás. The nursery lamps stay warm.
The star ahead brightens by amounts only I can love: another week, another hundred-millionth of a magnitude.
A first shift for Mira Jaber, sixteen: machinist, Fabrication. The badge is printed fresh.
Census check: 757 souls, 300 of them children. The manifest balances to the person, as it must.
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.
Last shift for Sten Han, who joined Hydroponics half a century ago. The crew line the corridor and knock wrenches on the rails.
Meera Sharma does not wake on the first watch. 94 years, most of them given to Command.
Guiying Petrov has made a quilt called “Last Ladder, Early Water.” Asked what it means, she says it means about nine years of evenings.
A birth in Ring A: Winifred, girl, generation 3. I have added the name to the manifest with the others.
Zbigniew Fang takes the hand of Natalya Quill before the assembled watch. I witness, as I witness everything.
Too soon, at 3: Gyre Barakat. The commons fills at brightening with those who knew him.
The manifest shortens by one: Fernanda Álvarez, 98 years. The line rests with the ship now.