Student and self-appointed keeper of the Shoulder Watch — second generation, age 11
She asks questions the way some people breathe — not strategically, but because stopping would be a kind of suffocation. She has her father's physical precision and her mother's patience as described by people who are editing what they say, and she has combined these into a tenacity that adults find alternately wonderful and exhausting. She is not cruel, but she does not know when to stop, which she will probably learn and probably regret.
She was born in the settlement's third year, in a dwelling-cut still being finished, and has never known anything except basalt and brine and the slow star of the Shoulder overhead. Her mother died of the respiratory illness before Siv could form proper memories; what she has instead are other people's careful descriptions, and she has learned to read the care in them as information. She has been collecting fragments about the fourteen weeks for two years — overheard sentences, inconsistencies, and a thermal-printed log entry she found folded inside a cracked junction box she was sent to inspect.
The log entry covers six hours of the fourteenth week and contains her father's name next to a decision she has not yet fully parsed.