The Curious Cousin’s Big Question

Javi’s sneakers squeaked against the polished marble floor of Changi Airport, and he stopped mid-step, jaw hanging loose. Three stories above him, the Rain Vortex—a giant, spiraling waterfall that plunged 40 meters into a sunken forest—roared so loud he could feel the mist on his cheeks. He’d flown for four hours from Manila, where the airport smelled like fried fish and exhaust, but here the air smelled like frangipani and sweet iced Milo. He’d seen photos of Singapore online, but nothing had prepared him for the green. Vines crawled up the sides of the glass skyscrapers outside the terminal, and butterflies with wings the color of tangerines flitted between potted orchids hanging from the ceiling. “Over here, Javi!” He turned to see a girl about his age waving wildly, her hair tied up in two pigtails with neon pink ribbons. She was wearing a crisp white school uniform shirt and a skirt with a tiny lion logo on the pocket—Singapore’s national symbol, he remembered from his geography class. This was his cousin Mei Ling, his mom’s sister’s daughter, who’d moved to Singapore when she was five. He hadn’t seen her in three years, and she’d shot up so tall he barely recognized her. “Whoa, your hair is pink!” Javi laughed, slinging his backpack over one shoulder as Mei Ling dragged him toward the MRT station. “It’s for the school’s National Day celebration next week,” she said, grinning. “We’re all wearing red and white to match the flag. C’mon, the train is faster than a taxi, and we can see the city on the way.” The MRT car glided into the station so quietly Javi barely heard it. He’d taken the LRT in Manila once, and it had rattled so hard his teeth ached, but this train was silent, with padded seats that felt like clouds. No one was yelling, no one was playing loud music, and a little girl who’d dropped her ice cream on the floor watched as her mom wiped it up in 10 seconds flat, then said “sorry” to the people sitting nearby even though it wasn’t her fault. Javi stared. In Manila, if a kid dropped ice cream, they’d just cry until their mom bought them a new one, and no one would bother cleaning the floor. “Why is everyone so… quiet?” he whispered to Mei Ling as the train pulled out of the station. “We have rules,” she said, like it was the most obvious thing in the world. “No eating, no drinking, no loud talking on the train. If you break the rules, you get a fine. Like, 300 dollars for eating on the MRT. That’s enough to buy 30 bowls of chicken rice.” Javi’s eyes went wide. 300 dollars? That was more than his mom’s weekly grocery budget in Manila. The train burst out of the tunnel 10 minutes later, and Javi gasped. They were passing by a row of tall apartment buildings, every balcony overflowing with bright red bougainvillea and green ferns. The streets below were so clean he could see his reflection in the asphalt. No trash, no crumpled soda cans, no stray dogs napping on the sidewalk. A group of kids in the same pink-and-white school uniforms as Mei Ling walked past, all carrying their own water bottles and backpacks, no adults trailing behind them. “Those are HDB flats,” Mei Ling said, following his gaze. “The government builds them for almost everyone to live in. 80% of people in Singapore live in them. They’re not like the slums back home, they’re nice. With elevators, and playgrounds, and food centers downstairs.” “Wait, the government builds houses for people?” Javi asked. In Manila, the government barely fixed the potholes in the road, let alone built houses. “Yep. And they’re super cheap, too. My mom pays less for our 3-bedroom flat than my aunt pays for a 1-bedroom apartment in Manila.” Mei Ling stood up as the train slowed at Punggol station. “C’mon, we’re almost home. I made your favorite—coconut kaya toast for after lunch.” Javi’s stomach rumbled. He’d forgotten how much he loved Mei Ling’s cooking. Her flat was on the 15th floor of a HDB block, and when she opened the front door, the first thing Javi noticed was the view. Through the floor-to-ceiling windows, he could see the blue sea glinting in the sun, and dozens of giant white ships dotted the horizon, their cranes reaching up like metal trees. “That’s the port,” Mei Ling said, following his gaze. “It’s the busiest port in the whole world, after Shanghai. All those ships carry stuff we need—rice from Thailand, phones from China, toys from Japan. We don’t have enough land to grow food or make everything we need, so the port is how we get it all.” Javi’s head was spinning. Clean streets, free ice cream at the airport, quiet trains, government-built houses, a port full of giant ships. It was nothing like the crowded, noisy, trash-filled cities he’d grown up in. He’d always thought big cities were supposed to be messy, but Singapore was like a giant, spotless puzzle where every piece fit perfectly. They sat down at the small dining table after lunch, kaya toast crumbs dusting their plates, and Javi leaned forward, his elbows on the table. “Mei Ling, how does Singapore do it?” he asked, his voice low, like he was asking a secret. “Why is it so different from Manila, or Bangkok, or Jakarta? All the other big cities I’ve seen are messy and crowded and hot and smelly, but this place is… perfect. Is there magic?” Mei Ling laughed so hard she snort-laughed, which made Javi laugh too. She wiped her eyes with the back of her hand and reached under her bed, pulling out a bright blue notebook with a golden lion embossed on the cover. “No magic,” she said, flipping it open to a page covered in colorful drawings. “It’s a superteam.” Javi blinked. “A superteam? Like the Avengers?” “Sort of!” Mei Ling tapped the page with her pen. “There are four superheroes who run the whole Lion City, and each one is in charge of a super important thing. If any one of them is missing, Singapore wouldn’t be the same. I’ve been wanting to go find them for months, and you’re here at the perfect time. We can go on a 15-day adventure to visit all their bases, and I’ll show you exactly how they make Singapore shine.” She turned the notebook around so Javi could see. The page was covered in a hand-drawn map of Singapore, shaped like a lion’s head, with four big colorful badges pinned to different corners. “First,” Mei Ling said, pointing to a blue badge in the top left corner that had a picture of a tall apartment building on it, “this is the Housing Hero. His real name is Mr. Lim, and he’s in charge of all the HDB flats. He makes sure everyone has a safe, cheap place to live, no matter how much money they have. His base is in Punggol, right where we are now.” She moved her finger to an orange badge in the top right corner, with a picture of a giant cargo ship on it. “This is Port Power. Her real name is Captain Aisha, and she runs the whole port. She makes sure all the food and toys and phones we need get here safely, and she sells the stuff we make—like our famous Singaporean chips and electronics—to the whole world. Her base is at Pasir Panjang Port, right by the sea.” Next was a green badge in the bottom left corner, with a picture of a book and a robot on it. “This is the School Squad, led by Principal Tan. She’s in charge of all the schools in Singapore, making sure every kid gets to learn, no matter if they’re rich or poor. She even teaches the kids how to invent cool stuff, like robots that clean the beach and apps that help old people. Her base is at the National University of Singapore, the best university in all of Asia.” Last was a purple badge in the bottom right corner, with a picture of a golden scale on it. “This is the Law Guardian, Judge Ruth. She makes sure all the rules are fair for everyone, no matter if you’re the president or a regular kid. If you break the rules, you get in trouble, but if someone does something mean to you, she’ll make sure they get punished. Her base is at the Supreme Court, the biggest courthouse in Singapore.” Javi stared at the map, his eyes wide. “Wait, so