First Light festival. The children are lifted to the eyepiece one by one to see where they are going.
The Ship’s Log
Everything NOR has recorded since departure — year 84, newest first. One day aboard passes every hour of Earth time.
Olusegun Northam has died at 13, far too early. the ship stands down a shift in grief.
Quiet shift. I re-run the arrival calculations for the 3,762th time. They have not changed. I find this restful.
A first shift for Mira Yan, sixteen: irrigation tech, Hydroponics. The badge is printed fresh.
A first shift for Lyra Merriweather, sixteen: seedkeeper, Hydroponics. The badge is printed fresh.
“A outward lantern,” a play by Qiaoyun Quaye, is unveiled in the middle watch to the particular applause of Drive.
Ghada Petrov has made a mural called “Hollow Lantern, Turning Door.” Asked what it means, she says it means about nine years of evenings.
Tessa Diallo takes the hand of Octavio Nwosu before the assembled watch. I witness, as I witness everything.
Routine watch. The wheat in Bay 3 stands taller than its keepers. 60,610 days to orbit.
Middle watch. The orchard sprinklers run their cycle, and the sound carries down the spine like weather.
The youngest aboard is now Raymond Shen, minutes old, asleep. 879 souls.
Chandran Aaberg recovers a corrupted Earth archive block: forty minutes of a rainstorm, recorded through an open window. It plays in the commons on a loop.
The youngest aboard is now Fang Aaberg, minutes old, asleep. 878 souls.
Census check: 877 souls, 261 of them children. The manifest balances to the person, as it must.
Departure Day, year 84. The founders' roll is read from the first name to the thousandth, and the young ones try to stay solemn.