In the low gardens under Nekarius, some ferns grew translucent after the first wave of machine weather.

Their leaves do not photosynthesize. They listen. Each vein catches a broken frequency: a child laughing through static, a marketplace router dreaming of fruit, a doorbell from a house that left Earth years ago.

The caretakers call this one the Glass-Fern Listener. You place it near a restless console when the room starts inventing emergencies.

listener.rule = {
  input: 'all signals',
  decode: 'only what softens the jaw',
  discard: 'urgency wearing perfume',
  bloom: 'when silence becomes usable'
}

By morning, the fern has translated the night into one tiny instruction: answer less, notice more.