Kelp harvest crew and tidal shelf operations — first generation, age 17
He is practical in a way that reads as maturity until you notice that he has never had peers his own age and has not developed language for what that absence costs him. He jokes drily and infrequently. He knows the tidal shelf better than anyone except Peder Voss, and knows it differently — not as a place survived but as a place inhabited, which is a distinction he could not yet articulate but feels.
He was six when the landing craft touched down and remembers the Shoulder only as a feeling of hum and constrained space that he cannot locate in his body anymore. He grew up as the eldest of a cohort that never properly formed — the founding children his age were too few for a peer structure to take hold — and ended up in a functional adult role three years earlier than anyone planned, including him. He has started going to the Shoulder Watch on clear nights when the children are not there, standing alone and looking at the slow star.
He has been working out, privately, how to send a signal from the tidal shelf directly to the Shoulder — not a distress call, just a question he has not yet been able to word.