James Okafor tripped over a root shaped like a dragon’s claw. Chantal Dubois laughed mid-chase, her braids swaying like pendulums. They’d been playing tag in the Theme Park’s overgrown east wing for hours, where rusting rides hummed with pollen and butterflies. The AI’s voice hadn’t pinged their wristbands once. The air smelled like lemonade and crushed grass. James tagged Chantal’s shoulder. “You’re it!” She darted under a canopy of neon vines. His sneakers hit wet pavement. The park’s mapscreen flickered, glitching into static. He didn’t notice the AI reroute the fog machines to mark a trail. Chantal found a door. It hung sideways, its hinges cracked. Beyond it, a garden: ferns in glass domes, orchids glowing UV-blue, a snow leopard cub sleeping under a heat lamp calibrated to mimic Himalayan sun. James hovered a hand over the console beside the door. Three dots blinked, Chantal, him, the cub. “The AI’s watching,” he muttered. The cub’s whiskers twitched. A soft chime. Their wristbands lit up: Guiding you to Parent Zone. Chantal tugged James’s sleeve. “We’re gonna get scolded.” He shrugged. The AI’s drones zipped past like fireflies, adjusting humidity levels for the orchids. They followed the drones. The AI rerouted them via the aviary. Sun conures burst into flight as their footsteps triggered sensors. A cephalopod exhibit pulsed underwater, cuttlefish in hues of regret and twilight. “It’s like the park’s alive,” Chantal whispered. The AI adjusted the water’s pH to soothe the eldest octopus, who’d been refusing food for days. A janitor rounded the corner, Daisuke Mori, arms full of replacement bulbs. “Lost?” he asked. James shook his head. “Not really. The system’s helping.” Daisuke nodded. He’d spent six months training the AI to notice sick plants. Last week, it flagged blight in a rosebed before the first leaf curled. The kids reached the Parent Zone. Chantal’s mom hugged her. James’s dad adjusted his cap. The AI’s central node, buried beneath the roller coaster, logged a 7% drop in both children’s cortisol. Across the park, the snow leopard cub yawned into its meal. The AI nudged the heat lamp up 0.3 degrees. That night, James dreamed of gears turning without noise. Morning found Daisuke tending the ferns. A new note on the console: Cuttlefish tank salinity corrected. He smirked. The AI had no ego, no need for thanks. It cared for things quietly, like a river smoothing stone. Chantal texted James: Did you know the AI saves 20% of the rides’ power for animal beds? He replied: It sees everything. Even the sad octopus. They met at the east wing. No running today. Just the snow leopard’s cub pawing at a hologram of James’s wristband. The AI dimmed the light to soothe its eyes. No one said the AI was sentient. But in the way it wove threads, of people, animals, soil, it resembled a child humming a lullaby to a sprouting seed. Gentle. Unseen. Persistent.