Last shift for Ibrahim Shen, who joined Fabrication half a century ago. The crew line the corridor and knock wrenches on the rails.
The Ship’s Log
Everything NOR has recorded since departure — the full record, newest first. One day aboard passes every hour of Earth time.
Pallas Nwosu has made a quilt called “The Spun Bell.” Asked what it means, he says it means about nine years of evenings.
The hull ticks as it cools into the long night. Year 121, and I still log it faithfully: ticking, nominal.
Sixty-eight years: Yejide Thorvaldsen hangs up the sash. An elder's quarters in Ring A stands ready.
Mira Thorvaldsen stands the walk of the full spinal corridor, as the sixteen-year custom is, and joins Medical.
Last shift for Deshi Peng, who joined Life Systems half a century ago. The crew line the corridor and knock wrenches on the rails.
“Borrowed Thread (Year 121),” a instrument by Josefina Barakat, is unveiled in the middle watch to the particular applause of Hydroponics.
Sixteen years for Kirill Ning, who signs to Hydroponics on the night watch and is given a locker, a sash, and a schedule.
Florence Shen stands the walk of the full spinal corridor, as the sixteen-year custom is, and joins Life Systems.
First Light festival. The children are lifted to the eyepiece one by one to see where they are going.
After 72 years, Olga Petrov has let go. Remembrance in the Ring B commons at next dimming.
All boards green. I count 963 sleeping heartbeats and call it a good night's work, though the work is theirs.
The star ahead brightens by amounts only I can love: another week, another hundred-millionth of a magnitude.
The star ahead brightens by amounts only I can love: another week, another hundred-millionth of a magnitude.
A first shift for Ekundayo Navarrete, sixteen: historian, Archive & Schools. The badge is printed fresh.
The youngest aboard is now Verne Shen, minutes old, asleep. 963 souls.
The hull ticks as it cools into the long night. Year 121, and I still log it faithfully: ticking, nominal.
Ngozi Shen, 68, generation 3, is carried down the spinal corridor feet-first, as the custom is.
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.
Quiet shift. I re-run the arrival calculations for the 8,230th time. They have not changed. I find this restful.
Census check: 963 souls, 100 of them children. The manifest balances to the person, as it must.
A first shift for Stanislav Northam, sixteen: broadcast keeper, Archive & Schools. The badge is printed fresh.
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.
Last shift for Bogdan Navarrete, who joined Drive half a century ago. The crew line the corridor and knock wrenches on the rails.
After 60 years, Uma Thorvaldsen has let go. Remembrance in the Ring B 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.
Two names braided on the manifest tonight: Torsten and Noor. The commons sings late.
Sarala Aaberg and Sami Thorvaldsen name their daughter Aster. The nursery lamps stay warm.
Quiet shift. I re-run the arrival calculations for the 8,186th time. They have not changed. I find this restful.
A joining in Ring A: Femi Petrov and Yasmin Petrov. The pressing of cider is authorized.
Sergei Barakat stands down from Command at sixty-eight, to the orchard benches and the long game of stones.
Routine watch. The wheat in Bay 3 stands taller than its keepers. 47,146 days to orbit.
Year 121 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 Clara Ulriksen, who joined Drive half a century ago. The crew line the corridor and knock wrenches on the rails.
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.
Born at brightening: Ion Yan, generation 5. The ship holds 963 souls tonight.
Oksana Fang stands the walk of the full spinal corridor, as the sixteen-year custom is, and joins Fabrication.
Middle watch. The orchard sprinklers run their cycle, and the sound carries down the spine like weather.
Census check: 962 souls, 100 of them children. The manifest balances to the person, as it must.
6.50 light-years remain. I have measured this voyage in breakfasts: some 45,387 thousand to go.
Sixty-eight years: Salvador Thorvaldsen hangs up the sash. An elder's quarters in Ring D stands ready.
Remembrance day. The memorial wall is polished by hand, though nothing aboard needs polishing less.
Fermín Fossum stands down from Medical at sixty-eight, to the orchard benches and the long game of stones.
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.
A daughter, Gunhild Valdivia, born in the Ring A infirmary to Gantry Valdivia and Wei Navarrete. Mother and child are well.
A first shift for Pallas Ulriksen, sixteen: thermal engineer, Life Systems. The badge is printed fresh.
The youngest aboard is now Percy Fang, minutes old, asleep. 961 souls.
Born on the night watch: Fadi Shen, generation 5. The ship holds 960 souls tonight.
Sixty-eight years: Dalia Merriweather hangs up the sash. An elder's quarters in Ring D stands ready.
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.