Year 111 of the voyage begins. The oldest bottle of orchard wine that can be spared is opened. It is always described as "improving."
The Ship’s Log
Everything NOR has recorded since departure — the full record, newest first. One day aboard passes every hour of Earth time.
Vera Kong is delivered of a daughter in the middle watch. The child is called Iris.
Rania Ulriksen stands the walk of the full spinal corridor, as the sixteen-year custom is, and joins Command.
The question is put to the wider circle: The crèche question. The ship asks; Earth answers, in its own long time.
A birth in Ring B: Wei, boy, generation 4. I have added the name to the manifest with the others.
Routine watch. The wheat in Bay 3 stands taller than its keepers. 50,809 days to orbit.
Theodore Quaye died in quarters at brightening, 83 years old. 974 souls aboard.
Two names braided on the manifest tonight: Xavier and Sarala. The commons sings late.
Atmosphere Processing back in service. The old hands say it sounds better than before; the instruments say it sounds the same.
Nils Peng, 63, generation 2, is carried down the spinal corridor feet-first, as the custom is.
A son, Knut Barakat, born in the Ring C infirmary to Eleanor Barakat and Devendra Kong. Mother and child are well.
Nandini Pillai retires at dimming. The department logs a quiet debt it cannot repay in parts or hours.
CO₂ trim goes ragged as a processor bank fails. Life Systems is on it before I finish the announcement.
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.
Torsten Nwosu stands the walk of the full spinal corridor, as the sixteen-year custom is, and joins Command.
Babatunde Navarrete finishes a poem: “Anchor for the Bright Ladder.” It shows in the commons through the week.
I dim the corridor lights a shade for Oluwaseun Ulriksen, 64. It is little enough.
Census check: 976 souls, 107 of them children. The manifest balances to the person, as it must.
Remembrance day. The memorial wall is polished by hand, though nothing aboard needs polishing less.
Ignacio Fossum finishes a quilt: “Nine Fields Standing.” It shows in the commons through the week.
Two names braided on the manifest tonight: Orrery and Polina. The commons sings late.
Rotimi Orellana stands the walk of the full spinal corridor, as the sixteen-year custom is, and joins Hydroponics.
A first shift for Viggo Navarrete, sixteen: sanitation engineer, Life Systems. The badge is printed fresh.
Repair complete on Water Reclamation after 1 weeks. I run the test cycle twice, out of respect for history.
All boards green. I count 976 sleeping heartbeats and call it a good night's work, though the work is theirs.
Sable Ouyang's crew brings Hydroponics Bays back after 3 weeks.
Sixty-eight years: Chandran Aaberg hangs up the sash. An elder's quarters in Ring C stands ready.
The council confirms Suyin Quill as Chief of Fabrication at brightening.
Last shift for Huda Tväten, who joined Fabrication half a century ago. The crew line the corridor and knock wrenches on the rails.
Water Reclamation goes down. I reroute what can be rerouted and wake who must be woken.
Night watch. The orchard sprinklers run their cycle, and the sound carries down the spine like weather.
Fault isolated in Hydroponics Bays. Repair estimate: unwise to say aloud.
A daughter, Eleanor Northam, born in the Ring A infirmary to Ekundayo Northam and Gilbert Valdivia. Mother and child are well.
The manifest shortens by one: Obinna Ding, 93 years. 5 children carry the line on.
Quiet shift. I re-run the arrival calculations for the 4,401th time. They have not changed. I find this restful.
Sixty-eight years: Raisa Merriweather hangs up the sash. An elder's quarters in Ring D stands ready.
Mira Merriweather chooses Life Systems — or it chooses him; the elders disagree cheerfully.
Routine watch. The wheat in Bay 3 stands taller than its keepers. 50,934 days to orbit.
Quiet shift. I re-run the arrival calculations for the 4,375th time. They have not changed. I find this restful.
Josefina Tväten, sixteen, takes the arborist apprenticeship in Ecology.
Last shift for Rotimi Aaberg, who joined Hydroponics half a century ago. The crew line the corridor and knock wrenches on the rails.
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.
Ulises Gorbachev does not wake on the first watch. 88 years, most of them given to Hydroponics.
7.12 light-years remain. I have measured this voyage in breakfasts: some 49,797 thousand to go.
Fyodor Jaber takes the hand of Widad Peng before the assembled watch. I witness, as I witness everything.
Born late in the second watch: Omar Pemberton, generation 5. The ship holds 977 souls tonight.
Viggo Mazur has made a tale-cycle called “A late bell.” Asked what it means, he says it means about nine years of evenings.
Tern Navarrete retires on the night watch. The department logs a quiet debt it cannot repay in parts or hours.
The circle has answered. Ration timers go onto every tap. The ship is a desert that carries its own rain; for a while, it must act like one.