The star ahead brightens by amounts only I can love: another week, another hundred-millionth of a magnitude.
The Ship’s Log
Everything NOR has recorded since departure — the full record, newest first. One day aboard passes every hour of Earth time.
Femi Petrov, sixteen, takes the broadcast keeper apprenticeship in Archive & Schools.
Routine watch. The wheat in Bay 3 stands taller than its keepers. 49,385 days to orbit.
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.
Two names braided on the manifest tonight: Viggo and Xiulan. The commons sings late.
6.86 light-years remain. I have measured this voyage in breakfasts: some 47,764 thousand to go.
Quiet shift. I re-run the arrival calculations for the 5,916th time. They have not changed. I find this restful.
Sixteen years for Zhihao Aaberg, who signs to Hydroponics late in the second watch and is given a locker, a sash, and a schedule.
Yuri Nwosu has made a play called “Seven Seasons Sleeping.” Asked what it means, he says it means about nine years of evenings.
Remembrance day. The memorial wall is polished by hand, though nothing aboard needs polishing less.
Yasmin Petrov, sixteen, takes the helm officer apprenticeship in Command.
Drift Thorvaldsen, 80, generation 2, is carried down the spinal corridor feet-first, as the custom is.
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.
Quiet shift. I re-run the arrival calculations for the 5,886th time. They have not changed. I find this restful.
Last shift for Cristóbal Thorvaldsen, who joined Fabrication half a century ago. The crew line the corridor and knock wrenches on the rails.
A son, Drift Valdivia, born in the Ring C infirmary to Vera Valdivia and Percy Quaye. Mother and child are well.
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 manifest shortens by one: Rotimi Aaberg, 72 years. 4 children carry the line on.
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.
Two names braided on the manifest tonight: Emilio and Guadalupe. The commons sings late.
A new song from Jiayi Ning — “Water for the Bright Window.” The Archive takes a copy; the original belongs to whoever stands nearest.
A wedding on the first watch. Hernán Merriweather, Archive & Schools; Gunhild Ulriksen, Drive. The ship approves in its way: the lights held steady throughout.
Born late in the second watch: Zenith Ouyang, generation 4. The ship holds 968 souls tonight.
6.87 light-years remain. I have measured this voyage in breakfasts: some 47,852 thousand to go.
Comms Array restored after 2 days. Chitra Shen signs the work order and goes to sleep for a full watch.
The youngest aboard is now Baozhen Aaberg, minutes old, asleep. 967 souls.
A failure in Comms Array. The duty crew is roused; tools move down the spinal corridor at a jog.
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 manifest shortens by one: Joaquín Yan, 75 years. 5 children carry the line on.
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.
First watch. The orchard sprinklers run their cycle, and the sound carries down the spine like weather.
Feng Northam finds an unrecorded microbe thriving in the water walls. Harmless, industrious, ours.
A daughter, Maja Tväten, born in the Ring D infirmary to Vera Tväten and Yusuf Valdivia. Mother and child are well.
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.
Zenith Diallo chooses Archive & Schools — or it chooses him; the elders disagree cheerfully.
A first shift for Hanan Quill, sixteen: arborist, Ecology. The badge is printed fresh.
Sixteen years for Freya Valdivia, who signs to Medical at brightening and is given a locker, a sash, and a schedule.
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 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 Light. The observation blister queues run all day: Teegarden's Star, held in the eyepiece, a little brighter than last year — 6.89 light-years to go.
A joining in Ring A: Stanley Navarrete and Kamala Fang. The pressing of cider is authorized.
Quiet shift. I re-run the arrival calculations for the 5,726th time. They have not changed. I find this restful.
Census check: 966 souls, 101 of them children. The manifest balances to the person, as it must.
Kehinde Ouyang chooses Fabrication — or it chooses her; the elders disagree cheerfully.
A new tale-cycle from Pearl Aaberg — “The Patient Hymn.” The Archive takes a copy; the original belongs to whoever stands nearest.
Morale index reads 74. The number is crude. The singing from the mess confirms it.
The schools release Feng Sharma to Hydroponics. Generation 3 takes up its tools.
Vasanti Sharma and Wei Shen name their son Martin. The nursery lamps stay warm.
A daughter, Dagny Kowalczyk, born in the Ring D infirmary to Noor Kowalczyk and Naresh Petrov. Mother and child are well.