On Earth, the calendar had been refined to absolute precision throughout antiquity and the medieval period, but even then different states and cultures kept to their own calendars. The result, however, was always the same, marking the time it took the Earth to move around the sun.
The New Year was celebrated in any number of ways, often seen as a time of renewal, a chance to begin again and leave the past behind.
Peter Flynn liked the idea of marking off the past and beginning again. It was something he longed for, but when humanity had taken to the stars, trivial calendar events like the New Year lost meaning. In the black, time stretched on. He sat, alone, in the cockpit taking his watch as Calypso sailed, still days away from their destination. Hank was also awake, but tinkered in his workshop while everyone else slept.
Flynn watched on the chronometer as the time rolled to January 1st. There was no fanfare, no confetti, no celebration, and no one to kiss at the fateful moment.
He rubbed his thumb along the ring on his right hand.