The December air in Lagos carried a softness rare for the Dominion era. Even the ever-present hum of the Pulse seemed lighter, as if the System itself had decided to take a breath.
The digital noticeboards displayed the same message across every Zone:
"Cultural Harmony Interval: December 23–27.
All instructional, corporate, and trade processes paused for recalibration."
But to humans, it meant something simpler. It meant Christmas.
Inside the Luminis Institute, teachers bustled quietly, shutting down terminals and filing reports. The once-sterile halls were glowing with soft amber light , a temporary aesthetic adjustment authorized by the Education Subsystem to "encourage communal morale."
Marie leaned over Victry's desk with a grin.
"Don't tell me you're staying here for the break," she teased, folding her arms. "You've got that faraway look again ... that one that says you're already halfway home."
Victry smiled faintly, tucking her teaching pad into her bag. "It's only for a few days. My father would be furious if I didn't come home."
Marie smirked. "Baba Moses and his famous yam porridge? I'd commit a protocol violation for that."
Victry laughed softly, shaking her head. "You just want an excuse to escape cafeteria rations."
"You wound me," Marie said with mock offense. Then her tone softened. "You need this, Vic. The kids, the work, the Pulse—it's eating at you. Go home, breathe real air for once."
Victry nodded, though her mind was elsewhere. Real air. She couldn't remember the last time she'd smelled unfiltered wind.
---
The next morning, the transport hub was alive with motion. Autonomous trains glided in seamless rhythm, their silver carriages pulsing faintly with Dominion light. Above the main concourse, the system broadcast a calm announcement:
"West African Dominion Line 7 – Ibadan Route. Estimated duration: 1 hour, 14 minutes."
Julian stood near the boarding platform, dressed in travel-grade fabric that shimmered subtly with light-adaptive fibers. He spotted Victry through the crowd and gave a small wave.
"You didn't think I'd let you go alone, did you?" he said as she approached.
Victry blinked in surprise. "You got travel clearance?"
He smirked. "Economic Advisor privileges. They're not much use if I don't occasionally pretend to observe civilian zones."
She tilted her head. "You mean visit them."
"Semantics," he said, stepping aside to let her board first.
The train interior was spacious and quiet. Transparent walls allowed passengers to see the endless fields of light and metal as the city shrank behind them. As the train accelerated, holographic snowflakes began to fall across the windows , part of the Dominion's seasonal display program. It was beautiful in an eerie way, cold perfection mimicking warmth.
Victry watched silently for a long while before speaking. "You miss it, don't you? Home."
Julian's expression faltered. "Geneva was… orderly. My father worked in the defense wing before I joined the military. He believed in systems, in the idea that structure keeps chaos away."
"And you?" she asked.
He hesitated. "I believed him. Until the first time I saw what happens when a structure decides chaos is no longer useful." He turned toward her. "That's why the Dominion worries me. It's too clean. There's no room left for mess, for pain, for failure, and without those, can there even be growth?"
Victry studied him for a moment. "You sound like my father," she said softly.
---
Ibadan appeared on the horizon like a living dream. The city was a blend of the old and the new, ancient rooftops rising beside luminous fields, and far beyond them, shimmering air towers drawing light from the soil itself.
When they disembarked, the first thing Victry noticed was the smell: warm, earthy, real. It was almost overwhelming.
A familiar voice cut through the crowd. "Victry Oluwaseun Adeyemi!"
She turned and saw her father, Jacob Adeyemi, popularly called Baba Moses,was standing near the edge of the platform. His once-gray hair was now streaked with faint silver light, a quiet sign of environmental resonance. He held out his arms, laughing.
"Daddy," she said, hugging him tightly.
He chuckled, patting her back. "Ah-ah, my child. You've gone thin! Lagos work no dey let you chop?"
Julian smiled at the scene, half amused, half envious. He bowed slightly when Victry introduced them. "Julian Cross. I'm.. uh... an associate from the Institute."
Baba Moses's eyes twinkled knowingly. "Associate, ehn? Well, any friend of my daughter is welcome. Ah, let's go ... your mother will be overjoyed. The house isn't far."
He motioned toward a waiting solar cart, the kind used for rural transport. "Come, we'll ride. The air is fresh, better than all that Lagos machine smell.Let's go before this Harmattan breeze carries you away."
---
The Adeyemi home was a soft chaos of warmth and life. The Dominion Pulse here was faint, almost inaudible, replaced by the rhythmic chirping of crickets and the low hum of soil processors buried under the farmland.
Mama Lizzy emerged from the kitchen, wiping her hands on her wrapper. Her eyes lit up. "Victry! My daughter, welcome!" She pulled her into a tight embrace before turning her warm gaze on Julian. "Ah, you brought a guest. You are welcome, my son. Please, eat. You look like Lagos has been working you too hard."
Dinner was lively. The food was rich, full of spice and laughter. They sat around a wooden table instead of a self-heating surface; light came from real lamps, not Dominion glow panels. It was grounding, human.
Julian found himself smiling more than he had in months. "I'd forgotten what food with flavor tasted like," he said after the third helping of pounded yam.
Mama Lizzy laughed. "The System may feed you, but it cannot cook love into a meal."
Victry smiled. "You sound like dad."
Baba Moses nodded proudly. "Eh-heh! Even Dominion soil needs tending. Machines can feed roots, but only hands can teach them to grow."
Julian paused, watching the older man's calloused hands as he gestured animatedly. He was suddenly reminded of his own father ,the quiet strength, the certainty of purpose. Something in his chest tightened.
---
Later that evening, Victry and Julian walked out toward the edge of the farmlands. The night air shimmered faintly; fireflies blinked above the newly sprouting crops. Each stalk glowed with a soft bioluminescence , a Dominion design interwoven with organic will.
Julian crouched, touching the soil. It was warm, alive, pulsing faintly like a heartbeat. "It's resonating," he murmured. "Not from the Pulse ,from below."
Victry knelt beside him. "This is where my father works. He says the earth listens when we plant with care."
He smiled faintly. "He might not be wrong."
The silence stretched between them, full but comfortable. Then Julian spoke again, quieter now. "My father used to take me fishing by Lake Geneva. He said the best men learn to wait, not to control. I didn't understand it then. I thought control was strength. Maybe that's why I joined the military , to prove him right."
Victry turned to him. "And now?"
He looked at her, eyes reflecting the soft light of the soil. "Now I think he was wrong. Strength isn't in control. It's in knowing when to stop fighting the current."
Her heart tugged at his words , it wasn't out of pity, but resonance. "Maybe that's what the Dominion is learning too," she said. "That perfection isn't harmony. Harmony comes from friction."
Julian nodded slowly, staring at the glowing fields. "Then maybe your father's farm is more dangerous to the Dominion than any rebellion."
---
By midnight, the house was quiet. The stars were unusually bright, unmarred by city haze. Victry stood by her old bedroom window, watching the gentle flicker of the farmlands. The air shimmered faintly as if the soil itself was whispering.
She reached out with her Nurturer sense. For a moment, the Dominion Pulse disappeared, replaced by something older, deeper , a slow, rhythmic breath from the living earth.
A soft vibration rippled underfoot. Julian appeared at her doorway, still awake.
"You feel it too," he said quietly.
Victry nodded. "It's everywhere , in the soil, in the air. Like the ground itself remembers something."
Julian stepped closer to the window. The farmlands were glowing more intensely now, subtle veins of light tracing across the terrain, connecting the crops in branching lines , like the Quiet Network made visible.
Baba Moses's voice echoed faintly from the porch, speaking to no one in particular. "Every living thing listens, even the soil. Dominion or no Dominion ... the earth never forgets who tends it."
Victry looked down at her hands, feeling the warmth return. The System was still watching, still calculating , but here, in her father's fields, something had shifted. The Dominion's precision met the earth's imperfection and didn't reject it. It adapted.
Julian whispered, half to himself, "Maybe this is what evolution really looks like."
The Pulse hummed faintly in agreement ,it wasn't in command, but in harmony.
Victry closed her eyes. For the first time in months, she wasn't afraid of what was coming. The soil beneath her was alive, and it was listening.