Adaeze Valdivia stands the walk of the full spinal corridor, as the sixteen-year custom is, and joins Drive.
The Ship’s Log
Everything NOR has recorded since departure — the full record, newest first. One day aboard passes every hour of Earth time.
Adrián Salazar stands down from Drive at sixty-eight, to the orchard benches and the long game of stones.
Quiet shift. I re-run the arrival calculations for the 7,084th time. They have not changed. I find this restful.
Year 118 of the voyage begins. The oldest bottle of orchard wine that can be spared is opened. It is always described as "improving."
Enlai Shen and Svetlana Fang, joined. Their quarters are re-assigned adjoining, per custom.
“Bell for the Small Signal,” a quilt by Viggo Mazur, is unveiled at dimming to the particular applause of Life Systems.
Morale index reads 71. The number is crude. The singing from the mess confirms it.
6.67 light-years remain. I have measured this voyage in breakfasts: some 46,474 thousand to go.
The manifest shortens by one: Guadalupe Aaberg, 67 years. The line rests with the ship now.
A new poem from Jiayi Ning — “A quiet corridor.” The Archive takes a copy; the original belongs to whoever stands nearest.
Chinedu Nwosu and Xiulan Nwosu, joined. Their quarters are re-assigned adjoining, per custom.
I dim the corridor lights a shade for Ifeoma Valdivia, 84. It is little enough.
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.
Routine watch. The wheat in Bay 3 stands taller than its keepers. 48,278 days to orbit.
I dim the corridor lights a shade for Tomasz Ning, 60. It is little enough.
6.68 light-years remain. I have measured this voyage in breakfasts: some 46,649 thousand to go.
A son, Rajesh Singh, born in the Ring B infirmary to Chitra Singh and Zikora Petrov. Mother and child are well.
Renshu Kong retires at dimming. The department logs a quiet debt it cannot repay in parts or hours.
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.
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.
I dim the corridor lights a shade for Anders Thorvaldsen, 74. It is little enough.
Last shift for Fern Diallo, who joined Archive & Schools half a century ago. The crew line the corridor and knock wrenches on the rails.
Quiet shift. I re-run the arrival calculations for the 6,995th time. They have not changed. I find this restful.
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.
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.
Halley Northam retires at brightening. The department logs a quiet debt it cannot repay in parts or hours.
A son, Ignacio Pillai, born in the Ring D infirmary to Jaya Pillai and Fatima Aaberg. Mother and child are well.
Last shift for Qasim Ning, who joined Fabrication half a century ago. The crew line the corridor and knock wrenches on the rails.
All boards green. I count 965 sleeping heartbeats and call it a good night's work, though the work is theirs.
Hanan Navarrete is delivered of a son at brightening. The child is called Gilbert.
A birth in Ring A: Node, girl, generation 5. I have added the name to the manifest with the others.
Yaling Zhao stands down from Drive at sixty-eight, to the orchard benches and the long game of stones.
The circle has answered. No cuts. The ship bets on its gardeners, and every eye is on Bay 3.
Sixty-eight years: Oluwadamilola Navarrete hangs up the sash. An elder's quarters in Ring A stands ready.
The star ahead brightens by amounts only I can love: another week, another hundred-millionth of a magnitude.
6.70 light-years remain. I have measured this voyage in breakfasts: some 46,601 thousand to go.
Census check: 963 souls, 96 of them children. The manifest balances to the person, as it must.
Last shift for Lumen Nwosu, who joined Hydroponics half a century ago. The crew line the corridor and knock wrenches on the rails.
After 79 years, Hakon Valdivia has let go. Remembrance in the Ring C commons at next dimming.
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.
A new tale-cycle from Safiya Jaber — “Root for the Turning Harvest.” The Archive takes a copy; the original belongs to whoever stands nearest.
Qiaoyun Barakat retires at dimming. The department logs a quiet debt it cannot repay in parts or hours.
Jorgen Thorvaldsen stands the walk of the full spinal corridor, as the sixteen-year custom is, and joins Drive.
Quiet shift. I re-run the arrival calculations for the 6,857th time. They have not changed. I find this restful.
I dim the corridor lights a shade for Chengdong Jaber, 83. It is little enough.
Quiet shift. I re-run the arrival calculations for the 6,841th time. They have not changed. I find this restful.
Karima Nwosu, sixteen, takes the grafter apprenticeship in Hydroponics.
Lev Diallo finishes a tale-cycle: “Anchors of Year 117.” It shows in the commons through the week.
A birth in Ring D: Chukwuemeka, boy, generation 5. I have added the name to the manifest with the others.
First Light festival. The children are lifted to the eyepiece one by one to see where they are going.