Chapter 6 — The Last Seed Keeper

Harvest Festival is the only occasion of the year when the Green Dome's sunset-simulating lights are left on longer than usual, lasting nearly two hours, so that the entire community can gather outdoors — if the large courtyard between terraces can be called "outdoors" — under the softest orange-yellow light the lighting system can produce.

Khe Mien, twelve years old, stood next to Dieu Lam at the edge of the yard, looking at the long rows of tables set up early in the morning, covered with dishes made from the fruits of a season: cakes made from freshly milled grain flour, hot steamed vegetables, and especially, a rare dessert that only appeared on this occasion - fruit jam from fruit varieties that the Grain Warehouse allowed to harvest in addition to the portion reserved for propagation.

"There's Red Bell jam this year," Dieu Lam whispered, her eyes shining with excitement. "You contributed a lot to that, you know?"

Khe Mien laughed, a warm feeling of pride spreading in her chest that she didn't try to hide. Last season's seven Red Bell tomatoes, after saving enough seeds for the Seed Store, left a small portion to be turned into a special jam for this year's Harvest Festival — a small honor that not every young seed keeper gets in their first year of training.

Harvest Festival is not just an occasion to celebrate the harvest. It was also an opportunity for the entire Green Dome, from the families living on the top floors of the honeycomb residential area to those working deepest in the Respiratory Station, to gather as a unified community, temporarily putting aside the division of daily work. Children run and jump between rows of tables, and old people sit and tell stories in the shade of columns decorated with real vines — one of the few places in the Green Dome where trees are grown purely for beauty, not for yield.

In the center of the courtyard, a small wooden platform was erected, where the Head of the Green Dome - Bien Ba Uy - prepared to give his annual speech. He is a man in his fifties, with a stocky physique, his face always looks serious even though it is not cold, the kind of seriousness of someone who is too used to having to make decisions that affect thousands of lives to be able to laugh and joke as easily as others.

"My fellow Green Dome people," he began, his voice echoing through a small speaker system temporarily installed for the holidays, "another season has passed, and once again, we can stand here, together, to say: we are still here."

Scattered applause rang out, not loudly, but with a quiet solemnity typical of the Green Dome — joy here always comes with a deep awareness of the price of existence.

"This year's grain output reached ninety-seven percent of the plan," Bien Ba Uy continued, "a good number, although not perfect. The Respiratory Station continues to operate stably thanks to the efforts of the technical team led by engineer Vu Dinh Khoat." He nodded toward the crowd, where Khe Mien could see his father standing among the group of engineers, slightly embarrassed by the sudden attention. "And our Seed Store, under the guidance of our Seed Keeper Co Diem Ninh and her disciples, continues to successfully preserve many of the rare breeds that we almost lost in previous years."

Khe Mien felt her cheeks heat up as a few eyes around her turned towards her, even though the speech didn't specifically mention her name. Dieu Lam gently nudged her friend's arm, giggling.

Chief Vom's speech continued for a few more minutes, mentioning minor challenges during the year — an irrigation system repair on the eastern terraces, a brief incident at the Respiratory Station that was promptly remedied — before ending with the usual congratulations and a reminder of the shared responsibility of each Green Dome resident in maintaining the community's fragile balance.

As the crowd began to disperse to enjoy the party, Khe Mien noticed another man standing near the podium, not participating in the conversation, just observing the crowd with a thoughtful expression. That is Su Dinh Lam, Head of the Water Engineering Department, one of the youngest members of the Dome Council but has a reputation for being so careful that he is sometimes considered rigid.

"She still doesn't like the festival?" Khe Mien asked softly when he saw his father approaching, holding two plates of food.

"He," Vu Dinh Khoat corrected, giving his daughter a plate. "Su Dinh Lam doesn't hate festivals, son. He's just always thinking about numbers even when everyone else is celebrating. He once told me that each party like this consumes three days' worth of water equivalent to an entire neighborhood's normal rations, and he's not wrong — he just doesn't know how to say it without spoiling the good mood."

"So why does the Council still hold Harvest Festival if it costs so much?"

Vu Dinh Khoat looked at his daughter, then looked out at the crowded yard, the smiling faces, the children running and chasing each other between the rows of tables, the orange and yellow lights dyed everything with a rare warmth.

"Because people don't just live by numbers, Khe Mien," he said. "If we only calculated things in terms of pure efficiency, perhaps we would survive a little longer in material terms, but we would lose something equally important — the reason to continue to exist. Su Dinh Lam is good at keeping us from dying from lack of water. Bien Ba Uy is good at keeping us from having a reason not to want to die despite having enough water. Both are necessary, even if sometimes they don't look in the same direction."

Then, when the party was in full swing, Co Diem Ninh found Khe Mien sitting with Dieu Lam, holding a small plate containing the exact dish Red Bell jam.

"Taste your handiwork," she said, sitting down next to him with the slowness of old age, though her eyes were as sharp as ever.

Khe Mien tasted a small piece of jam, the rich sweetness mixed with a bit of sourness typical of the Red Bell variety, a flavor that, according to what she read in the Grain Warehouse records, had almost disappeared from Green Dome nearly a decade before this season.

“Delicious,” she said, and this time, unlike every other social compliment of the day, she meant it.

"Do you know what makes me happier than its delicious taste?" Co Diem Ninh asked, looking out at the courtyard where hundreds of Green Dome residents were eating, chatting, and laughing under artificial lights simulating a sunset that none of them had ever seen in real life. "It's seeing everyone here taste a flavor that just a few years ago was in danger of disappearing forever, and most of them don't even know, don't need to know, what process has kept that flavor alive until today. That's the true meaning of the work we do, Khe Mien. Not to get credit. But to let good things quietly continue to exist, long enough for people to forget that they almost disappeared."

Khe Mien sat there for a long time after Co Diem Ninh left to chat with other old people, looking at the brightly lit yard, looking at her father laughing and talking with a few colleagues at the Respiratory Station, looking at Bien Ba Uy and Su Dinh Lam standing in two different corners of the yard, each with a different perspective on the same community that they are both trying to protect.

A moment later, when Dieu Lam ran away with a group of other children to watch a game of ring throwing near the cake tables, Su Dinh Lam suddenly passed by where Khe Mien was sitting, stopping for a moment as if considering whether to start a conversation or not.

"You are a disciple of the Grain Warehouse," he said, not really a question, his voice dry but not cold. "I heard about the Red Bell variety. You pollinated it yourself, right?"

"Yes, that's right," Khe Mien replied, a bit surprised that a busy person like him would pay attention to such a small detail.

"Good." He nodded, his eyes still looking toward the yard, as if he was calculating something in his mind. "Do you know that every seed added to the Seed Vault means a cost in water and energy to maintain storage conditions? I'm not saying this to negate your hard work — I just want you to understand, right now, that everything that exists in the Green Dome has a price, even the best things. It's easy to forget that on nights like this."

"Your father said you always think about numbers even during festivals," Khe Mien said, unable to hide a bit of mischief in her voice.

Su Dinh Lam slightly curled his lips, almost a smile, although not quite a full smile. "Engineer Khoat is not wrong. But remember this, disciple of Kho Nut: people think about numbers not because they don't know how to appreciate good things, but because they understand better than anyone else how fragile those good things are." He nodded and walked away, leaving Khe Mien sitting there, thinking about that sentence longer than she thought.

Little did she know that this would be one of the last Harvest Days she would fully enjoy in this way—not because anything was going to happen immediately, but because time, like a seed, always grows silently in a way one only realizes in retrospect. But that night, when the lights finally dimmed back to normal night mode and people began to return home, Khe Mien only felt a complete peace, the kind of peace that can only come when one does not know in advance what lies ahead.