Ikenna Zhao and Meridian Fang are joined under the orchard lamps. The whole of Hydroponics turns out.
The Ship’s Log
Everything NOR has recorded since departure — the full record, newest first. One day aboard passes every hour of Earth time.
Theodore Ulriksen retires at dimming. The department logs a quiet debt it cannot repay in parts or hours.
Repair complete on Hydroponics Bays after 4 days. I run the test cycle twice, out of respect for history.
Fault isolated in Hydroponics Bays. Repair estimate: unwise to say aloud.
Night watch. The orchard sprinklers run their cycle, and the sound carries down the spine like weather.
Routine watch. The wheat in Bay 3 stands taller than its keepers. 53,575 days to orbit.
A first shift for Rajesh Quaye, sixteen: water systems tech, Life Systems. The badge is printed fresh.
All boards green. I count 970 sleeping heartbeats and call it a good night's work, though the work is theirs.
Born on the night watch: Aleksandr Navarrete, generation 4. The ship holds 970 souls tonight.
First Light. The observation blister queues run all day: Teegarden's Star, held in the eyepiece, a little brighter than last year — 7.54 light-years to go.
Yelena Valdivia, 96, generation 1, is carried down the spinal corridor feet-first, as the custom is.
Two names braided on the manifest tonight: Aster and Gunhild. The commons sings late.
Lanying Nwosu and Maja Aaberg name their daughter Sojourn. The nursery lamps stay warm.
Morale index reads 78. The number is crude. The singing from the mess confirms it.
A new song from Xavier Thorvaldsen — “Wheel for the Slow Door.” The Archive takes a copy; the original belongs to whoever stands nearest.
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.
Ravindra Ouyang stands down from Ecology at sixty-eight, to the orchard benches and the long game of stones.
The hull ticks as it cools into the long night. Year 103, and I still log it faithfully: ticking, nominal.
“What the Wheel Leaves,” a quilt by Winifred Tväten, is unveiled in the middle watch to the particular applause of Ecology.
Two names braided on the manifest tonight: Arne and Ylva. The commons sings late.
A joining in Ring A: Carmen Zhao and Nadia Barakat. The pressing of cider is authorized.
Sixty-eight years: Bernard Ashworth hangs up the sash. An elder's quarters in Ring C stands ready.
Quiet shift. I re-run the arrival calculations for the 1,629th time. They have not changed. I find this restful.
Routine watch. The wheat in Bay 3 stands taller than its keepers. 53,688 days to orbit.
Census check: 969 souls, 134 of them children. The manifest balances to the person, as it must.
7.56 light-years remain. I have measured this voyage in breakfasts: some 52,030 thousand to go.
“The Last Watch,” a tale-cycle by Valentina Ulriksen, is unveiled at brightening to the particular applause of Archive & Schools.
First watch. The orchard sprinklers run their cycle, and the sound carries down the spine like weather.
The manifest shortens by one: Khalid Vik, 94 years. 10 children carry the line on.
Bhaskar Petrov stands down from Hydroponics at sixty-eight, to the orchard benches and the long game of stones.
Year 103 of the voyage begins. The oldest bottle of orchard wine that can be spared is opened. It is always described as "improving."
Quiet shift. I re-run the arrival calculations for the 1,594th time. They have not changed. I find this restful.
All boards green. I count 970 sleeping heartbeats and call it a good night's work, though the work is theirs.
Jaroslav Ahlgren died in quarters at dimming, 91 years old. 970 souls aboard.
The hull ticks as it cools into the long night. Year 102, and I still log it faithfully: ticking, nominal.
All boards green. I count 971 sleeping heartbeats and call it a good night's work, though the work is theirs.
Two names braided on the manifest tonight: Rell and Radhika. The commons sings late.
All boards green. I count 971 sleeping heartbeats and call it a good night's work, though the work is theirs.
Census check: 971 souls, 134 of them children. The manifest balances to the person, as it must.
Morale index reads 77. The number is crude. The singing from the mess confirms it.
A birth in Ring A: Gyre, girl, generation 4. I have added the name to the manifest with the others.
Sixteen years for Yusuf Salazar, who signs to Fabrication at dimming and is given a locker, a sash, and a schedule.
A joining in Ring B: Magnus Merriweather and Ruolan Shen. The pressing of cider is authorized.
Jaya Pillai and Fatima Aaberg name their son Yash. The nursery lamps stay warm.
A first shift for Aster Shen, sixteen: irrigation tech, Hydroponics. The badge is printed fresh.
Quiet shift. I re-run the arrival calculations for the 1,540th time. They have not changed. I find this restful.
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.
A new song from Salvador Thorvaldsen — “Field for the Outward Map.” 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.
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.