November 20th, 2038 — Oxford, early evening

  Halberg Infrastructure Systems — Executive Flat

  18:47 GMT

  The city outside their windows was already dark, autumn settling in with a damp sort of inevitability. Nathan set his briefcase down by the door, loosened the knot of his tie, and exhaled the full weight of the day.

  Ina was already home.

  She stood at the counter with a glass of mineral water, posture still perfect even in silence. Her hair was pinned back, though one strand had fallen across her forehead. She didn’t push it away. She was thinking, deeply, and in that still way only she could.

  Nathan sensed it before he spoke.

  “Long day?”

  Ina finally looked at him, the ice of her public composure melting into the warmth reserved only for him.

  “Parliament sent me three contradictory memos,” she said, tone light but edged. “Two demanded faster deployment of reclamation systems. One insisted on waiting for full psychological validation. I believe they were written by people who did not speak to each other before pressing ‘send.’”

  Nathan snorted softly and slipped out of his jacket.

  “Typical.”

  “Predictable,” Ina corrected gently.

  “Typical would imply they were thinking.”

  He grinned despite himself.

  She stepped toward him, fingertips brushing the back of his hand, their quiet, grounding greeting. She waited until he was fully settled into her presence before speaking again.

  “Schatz… I heard Levi singing in the Newsome’s kitchen when we were there last week, and it has been on my mind since.”

  Nathan blinked.

  “Levi?”

  “Yes. Something in…”

  She tilted her head, searching for the right phrasing.

  “What I thought was Plattdeutsch. Very old. Very rural. But with vowels I have only heard from my grandfather’s stories.”

  Nathan leaned against the counter.

  “He probably doesn’t even realize he’s doing it. It’s his comfort song. Something his family brought from Pennsylvania.”

  Ina’s expression softened into something rare, almost wistful.

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  “It reminded me of home. Not my city. Not Berlin. Older than that. My father’s family was from Kassel originally. My grandmother would hum melodies not so different from what Levi sings.”

  She drew a slow breath, letting the connection form in the space between them.

  “Languages survive in families in ways countries cannot. It surprised me, pleasantly.”

  Nathan stepped closer, resting a hand lightly on her waist.

  “You should tell him.”

  “I might,” she admitted.

  “Later. It feels like… an heirloom. One should not interrupt heirlooms.”

  A faint laugh slipped from Nathan.

  For a moment, everything awful outside this room fell away, politics, pressure, silhouette tests, the uneasy public sentiment curling around their work.

  Here, it was just them.

  Ina touched his cheek lightly.

  “You look tired, my love.”

  “I am.”

  He hesitated.

  “Are… you all right?”

  “I am now,” she said simply.

  She didn’t need to say the rest aloud.

  When you walk through that door, the world becomes manageable again.

  Nathan closed his eyes for a moment and leaned into her touch.

  18:54 GMT

  Catherine sat cross-legged on her small bed, pajama feet tucked under her, hair a riot of soft curls from her bath. Susan sat beside her with a brush, gently taming the curls into something closer to order.

  Julie folded tiny socks at the dresser, smiling at the domestic symmetry.

  Levi stood by the window, hands in his pockets, humming a tune that seemed older than the room, older than the house, older, maybe, than any of them.

  Catherine swayed to it, eyes half closed.

  “Mama,” she said suddenly, “Opa sings the sky-song.”

  Susan laughed.

  “That’s one way to put it, kanstle.”

  Julie glanced back.

  “Dad, what is that one? I don’t think I’ve ever heard you hum it quite that clearly.”

  Levi shrugged, flustered and modest in his way.

  “Ach… just an old Lied. Came from my Gro?mutter. Pennsylvania Dutch side.”

  Susan added, “No one ever wrote it down. Just one of those things that stays in a family.”

  Catherine crawled into Julie’s lap, curling into her like a nesting bird.

  “Mama, is it our song?”

  Julie kissed the top of her head.

  “It’s been in our family a long time, Maus. Longer than even Grandma or Grandpa can remember.”

  “Is it from Goshen?” Catherine asked.

  “Farther,” Susan said softly.

  Julie nodded.

  “Much farther.”

  Levi glanced at the door as footfalls sounded on the stairs.

  Isaac entered, hair slightly disheveled, and smiled as he saw his daughter. Her face lit up instantly.

  “Papa!”

  She launched herself into his arms, and he caught her without effort, as if she weighed nothing and everything at once.

  Isaac sat on the bed with her, settling her against his chest.

  Julie exchanged a look with Susan, warm, knowing, quiet.

  Catherine yawned, then patted Isaac’s collarbone.

  “Papa… why does Opa sing sky-songs?”

  Levi answered before Isaac could.

  “Because our people carried them across oceans and mountains, Annie-girl. From Germany, to Switzerland, to Pennsylvania, to Indiana… and now to you.”

  Catherine blinked slowly, sleep tugging at her.

  “Are we gonna have more people to carry songs?” she murmured.

  Julie froze just slightly.

  Susan’s eyes flicked to her granddaughter’s face and then to Julie.

  There it was, the seed, dropped in a child’s innocent way, the question adults were circling privately.

  Isaac smoothed Catherine’s hair.

  “Maybe someday,” he said gently.

  “But right now we’re very lucky to have you.”

  Catherine considered this.

  Then nodded.

  “Okay.”

  Her eyes closed.

  Julie drew the blanket up over her, and Levi’s song softened until it was only a breath in the doorway.

  Isaac kissed Catherine’s forehead.

  Julie touched his back, whispering, “She’s growing fast.”

  “So is the world,” he answered.

  Quiet settled in around them, real, grounding, human.

  The kind of quiet that keeps people steady when everything else begins to change.