Census check: 954 souls, 93 of them children. The manifest balances to the person, as it must.
The Ship’s Log
Everything NOR has recorded since departure — the full record, newest first. One day aboard passes every hour of Earth time.
The youngest aboard is now Xenia Ulriksen, minutes old, asleep. 954 souls.
Maintenance sweep of Ring D complete. Somewhere aft a wrench is missing; it will surface in a decade, in a wall, with a story attached.
Last shift for Howard Quill, who joined Life Systems half a century ago. The crew line the corridor and knock wrenches on the rails.
Routine watch. The wheat in Bay 3 stands taller than its keepers. 47,712 days to orbit.
After 78 years, Ngozi Diallo has let go. Remembrance in the Ring A commons at next dimming.
6.59 light-years remain. I have measured this voyage in breakfasts: some 45,546 thousand to go.
Mariam Diallo retires at brightening. The department logs a quiet debt it cannot repay in parts or hours.
The schools release Aleksandr Navarrete to Hydroponics. Generation 4 takes up its tools.
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.
I dim the corridor lights a shade for Howard Fang, 62. It is little enough.
Last shift for Zbigniew Fang, who joined Fabrication half a century ago. The crew line the corridor and knock wrenches on the rails.
First Light festival. The children are lifted to the eyepiece one by one to see where they are going.
Domingo Thorvaldsen finds an unrecorded microbe thriving in the water walls. Harmless, industrious, ours.
Census check: 955 souls, 93 of them children. The manifest balances to the person, as it must.
Sixty-eight years: Lev Peng hangs up the sash. An elder's quarters in Ring A stands ready.
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.
The star ahead brightens by amounts only I can love: another week, another hundred-millionth of a magnitude.
A first shift for Sojourn Nwosu, sixteen: nurse, Medical. The badge is printed fresh.
Theodore Thorvaldsen stands down from Archive & Schools at sixty-eight, to the orchard benches and the long game of stones.
A new poem from Noemí Barakat — “Orchards of Year 119.” The Archive takes a copy; the original belongs to whoever stands nearest.
Olga Tväten died in quarters on the night watch, 56 years old, once seedkeeper. 955 souls aboard.
Salvador Fossum has made a instrument called “Fields of the spinal corridor.” Asked what it means, he says it means about nine years of evenings.
Routine watch. The wheat in Bay 3 stands taller than its keepers. 47,792 days to orbit.
Ravindra Navarrete, 64, generation 3, is carried down the spinal corridor feet-first, as the custom is.
A new tale-cycle from Iveta Pillai — “Doors of Bay 3.” The Archive takes a copy; the original belongs to whoever stands nearest.
After 69 years, Halley Northam has let go. Remembrance in the Ring C commons at next dimming.
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.
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.
Sixty-eight years: Keel Ning hangs up the sash. An elder's quarters in Ring B stands ready.
All boards green. I count 958 sleeping heartbeats and call it a good night's work, though the work is theirs.
Sixty-eight years: Tatiana Merriweather hangs up the sash. An elder's quarters in Ring D stands ready.
Born on the night watch: Nora Aaberg, generation 5. The ship holds 958 souls tonight.
A new poem from Harriet Singh — “A kept furrow.” The Archive takes a copy; the original belongs to whoever stands nearest.
6.61 light-years remain. I have measured this voyage in breakfasts: some 45,816 thousand to go.
Year 119 of the voyage begins. The oldest bottle of orchard wine that can be spared is opened. It is always described as "improving."
Last shift for Zenith Ashworth, who joined Archive & Schools half a century ago. The crew line the corridor and knock wrenches on the rails.
Last shift for Meilin Nwosu, who joined Hydroponics half a century ago. The crew line the corridor and knock wrenches on the rails.
Irina Peng isolates a repeating radio source in the wake. Natural, almost certainly. The word "almost" keeps the commons busy a month.
I dim the corridor lights a shade for Efua Thorvaldsen, 95. It is little enough.
First watch. The orchard sprinklers run their cycle, and the sound carries down the spine like weather.
A son, Yaw Fang, born in the Ring D infirmary to Anastasia Fang and Ion Barakat. Mother and child are well.
Sixty-eight years: Hedda Ulriksen hangs up the sash. An elder's quarters in Ring D stands ready.
The schools release Gyre Diallo to Archive & Schools. Generation 4 takes up its tools.
Morale index reads 69. The number is crude. The singing from the mess confirms it.
Yash Pillai chooses Hydroponics — or it chooses him; the elders disagree cheerfully.
Too soon, at 53: Fermín Shen. The commons fills on the night watch with those who knew him.
The star ahead brightens by amounts only I can love: another week, another hundred-millionth of a magnitude.
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.
Atmosphere Processing restored after 5 days. Mariam Diallo signs the work order and goes to sleep for a full watch.