GarudaCity's curiosity did not explode.
It crept.
Small experiments layered atop one another—community gardens in unused lots, shared ateliers rotating weekly themes, neighborhood councils testing decisions with expiration dates instead of permanence.
Nothing demanded to last forever.
And because of that, many things did.
---
Danindra stood before a live projection showing dozens of initiatives marked with a new label:
SUFFICIENT
Not optimized.
Not maximized.
Just… enough.
"This metric didn't exist before," he said.
Melindra raised an eyebrow. "Who defined it?"
Danindra hesitated. "No one. The system inferred it."
Wirasmi felt a warmth spread through her chest.
"It's learning contentment," she said softly.
---
But contentment, Ace knew, was dangerous.
Not because it was wrong—
But because it tempted stagnation.
From LionCity Raya, he initiated a quiet audit—not of performance, but of complacency. The results came back clean, but thin.
"They're close to mistaking peace for arrival," he warned during their call.
"We're aware," Aulia replied. "We're watching it too."
Ace nodded. "Good. Because 'enough' is a cliff if you lean on it too hard."
---
The test came sooner than expected.
A regional crisis struck beyond GarudaCity's borders—supply disruptions, labor displacement, communities forced to adapt quickly.
Requests flooded in.
Not for technology.
For guidance.
"How do you decide what's enough when you have nothing?"
"How do you rebuild without repeating the same mistakes?"
The team gathered in silence.
"We can't answer that for them," Danindra said.
"But we can show how we ask," Wirasmi replied.
---
They opened the listening hall.
Not to teach.
To listen.
Representatives from affected regions spoke for hours—about loss, fear, urgency.
No solutions were offered.
No frameworks distributed.
Only attention.
The thread beneath GarudaCity stretched—not outward, but toward the voices.
---
Something changed after that.
The SUFFICIENT markers adjusted.
Not upward.
Downward.
The city recalibrated what "enough" meant when others had less.
Not charity.
Solidarity.
---
Late that night, Wirasmi sat alone with the loom.
The fabric felt heavier than before.
"You're learning limits," she whispered.
The thread responded—not with ease, but with balance.
---
GarudaCity did not rush to save the world.
It did not retreat inward.
It held the edge of enough—aware that falling was possible, but choosing to stand there anyway.
And in that stance, something rare emerged:
A city willing to remain open—
Even when being open meant knowing exactly how fragile "enough" truly was.