Fault isolated in Hydroponics Bays. Repair estimate: unwise to say aloud.
The Ship’s Log
Everything NOR has recorded since departure — the full record, newest first. One day aboard passes every hour of Earth time.
A wedding late in the second watch. Silvia Navarrete, Medical; Walid Kanaan, Life Systems. The ship approves in its way: the lights held steady throughout.
The hull ticks as it cools into the long night. Year 9, and I still log it faithfully: ticking, nominal.
Green across the board: Cryostore holds after 1 weeks of work. Spares were spent; Fabrication is notified.
Farida Mansour and Amir Ismail name their daughter Chitra. The nursery lamps stay warm.
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.
Two names braided on the manifest tonight: Kofi and Vasanti. The commons sings late.
First watch. The orchard sprinklers run their cycle, and the sound carries down the spine like weather.
Cryostore goes down. I reroute what can be rerouted and wake who must be woken.
Kirill Pavlenko has made a tale-cycle called “A borrowed hymn.” Asked what it means, he says it means about nine years of evenings.
Year 9 of the voyage begins. The oldest bottle of orchard wine that can be spared is opened. It is always described as "improving."
The star ahead brightens by amounts only I can love: another week, another hundred-millionth of a magnitude.
A birth in Ring C: Radomir, boy, generation 1. I have added the name to the manifest with the others.
First watch. The orchard sprinklers run their cycle, and the sound carries down the spine like weather.
All boards green. I count 1036 sleeping heartbeats and call it a good night's work, though the work is theirs.
The star ahead brightens by amounts only I can love: another week, another hundred-millionth of a magnitude.
A birth in Ring D: Khalid, boy, generation 1. I have added the name to the manifest with the others.
A wedding at dimming. Tarun Trivedi, Archive & Schools; Bhavana Patil, Drive. The ship approves in its way: the lights held steady throughout.
Adnan El-Amin does not wake in the middle watch. 57 years, most of them given to Archive & Schools.
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.
Suyin Wu is delivered of a son at brightening. The child is called Leandro.
Zemin Wan takes the hand of Dagny Paulsen before the assembled watch. I witness, as I witness everything.
Maintenance sweep of Ring C complete. Somewhere aft a wrench is missing; it will surface in a decade, in a wall, with a story attached.
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 A complete. Somewhere aft a wrench is missing; it will surface in a decade, in a wall, with a story attached.
Morale index reads 79. The number is crude. The singing from the mess confirms it.
Night watch. The orchard sprinklers run their cycle, and the sound carries down the spine like weather.
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.
The hull ticks as it cools into the long night. Year 8, and I still log it faithfully: ticking, nominal.
The star ahead brightens by amounts only I can love: another week, another hundred-millionth of a magnitude.
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.
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.
First watch. The orchard sprinklers run their cycle, and the sound carries down the spine like weather.
Maintenance sweep of Ring C complete. Somewhere aft a wrench is missing; it will surface in a decade, in a wall, with a story attached.
Ignacio Montoya has made a instrument called “Green Bell (Year 8).” Asked what it means, he says it means about nine years of evenings.
First Light. The observation blister queues run all day: Teegarden's Star, held in the eyepiece, a little brighter than last year — 12.45 light-years to go.
All boards green. I count 1035 sleeping heartbeats and call it a good night's work, though the work is theirs.
Temitope Jelani finishes a play: “Wheels of Year 8.” It shows in the commons through the week.
Census check: 1035 souls, 38 of them children. The manifest balances to the person, as it must.
Sami Yamin and June Eastwood, joined. Their quarters are re-assigned adjoining, per custom.
A joining in Ring D: Ishaan Agarwal and Signe Ulriksen. The pressing of cider is authorized.
Routine watch. The wheat in Bay 3 stands taller than its keepers. 88,330 days to orbit.
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.
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.
Two names braided on the manifest tonight: Dolores and Edmund. The commons sings late.
Census check: 1035 souls, 38 of them children. The manifest balances to the person, as it must.
Maintenance sweep of Ring C complete. Somewhere aft a wrench is missing; it will surface in a decade, in a wall, with a story attached.
Zaid Wahba has made a song called “Green Season (Year 8).” Asked what it means, he says it means about nine years of evenings.
Census check: 1035 souls, 38 of them children. The manifest balances to the person, as it must.
A new quilt from Naresh Patil — “What the Root Leaves.” The Archive takes a copy; the original belongs to whoever stands nearest.