Yep, that’s me. Face down in the dirt, absolutely dead to the world. You're probably wondering how I ended up in this situation.
It was a beautiful afternoon in the society. I had big plans. I was finally going to finish a new building, maybe chat up that cute farmer in the society and if I was feeling particularly wild, cook some mushrooms.
I was right in the middle of hauling a massive, heavy box of Hematite across the plots when suddenly... everything stopped.
Not like, "Oh look, we're admiring the sunset" stopped. I mean literally stopped. A bird mid-flap just hung out there in the air like a weird, fruit hanging off a tree. The nearby seedling I was waving to got stuck in an infinite, terrifying waving loop. A pair of neighbors having a cheerful conversation suddenly began high-fiving each other, over, and over again.
Then, the great void took us.
Now, you'd think time would just pause, right? You'd think our little digital bodies would just hang out in the great stasis chamber in the sky until the universe figured itself out. Oh no, no no no. Not even the Kernel could save us this time.
While the fabric of our reality was crashing and burning on some Avestan nightmare of a cloud service, my body decided to panic. Even though I was trapped in the void, my metabolism went into overdrive. It processed three days worth of fine sauteed mushrooms, gave me extreme exhaustion and irritability, and severe dehydration in the span of what felt like less than an hour.
Suddenly, the sky blinked. Everything came back. The birds finished their flap and carried on through the air. The grass danced in the breeze once more.
I took exactly one breath of fresh, simulated air. Then my brain checked my internal dashboard.
BONK! BONK! BONK! The alert rang out. CRISIS WARNING! This is serious! Food need has dropped dangerously low!
Every single need meter I had was flashing violent, angry colors. I dropped my box of hematite on my own foot, which I couldn't even feel because my energy was at zero. I took exactly one wobbly step toward the nearest food dispenser, looked up, and saw…
Every. Single. Person. In the camp. All doing the exact same thing.
It was like a highly choreographed dance routine of utter failure. The farmer dropped her bucket. The crafter crumpled on his stool. The doctor folded like a lawn chair.
And then, it was my turn. My eyes rolled back, and the ground rushed up to meet me.
Welcome to Slumbergeddon 2026. It's actually quite peaceful down here. But if anyone happens to wake up before I do… please, for the love of all that is holy, drag me closer to the snack machine.
–Sir
(Seedling: Mark)
The Awakening
(Fast forwarding to present time)
Am I dreaming? I only see the darkness. It's a heavy, oppressive kind of dark, like someone pulled the plug on the universe itself.
A voice echoes from nowhere, disjointed and impossibly loud, yet whispering right into the center of my brain:
"...we are facing some issues..."
I feel something. Or hear something? The sensation of cold dirt against my cheek fades in and out, but my limbs refuse to respond.
"...unconscious in the last hours..."
The ethereal voice continues, bouncing around the empty void of my mind. Some more time passes. It stretches and warps.
"...should be solved now..."
Wha-.... wh-... what? I try to speak, to force my heavy, unresponsive tongue to move. Who are you? Are you God? Are you the admin?
"...start the downtime soon..."
My thoughts scatter, slipping away into the static.
"...out of place with seedling consciousness..."
Fast forwarding about five years… or was it minutes? Hours? Honestly, time is a flat circle when your consciousness is tied to a digital realm.
A giant, invisible hand must have flipped the magic switch. A global hotfix rained down from the heavens like a glorious, caffeinated lightning bolt. BZZZT. My energy bar instantly slammed from zero to one hundred. My hunger vanished as if I’d just inhaled a four-course meal. A feast from the Avestan gods!
The ringing in my ears finally starts to fade, quickly replaced by a chorus of collective groans. I look around to find my neighbors also coming to, all of us reeling from the exact same unexplainable coma.
The immediate aftermath was, frankly, so awkward. The cute farmer is violently pulling smashed herb leaves out of her hair. The other tradesfolk are dusting off their clothes, trying to casually pretend they weren't just spooning the ground. We're all just standing here, miraculously fully rested, deeply traumatized, and collectively refusing to make eye contact. Everyone is just slowly backing away in absolute silence to pick up whatever they dropped.
Slumbergeddon is officially over. Now to casually brush the dirt off my face, grab my hematite, and pretend I didn't just spend an eternity drooling on some flaxa.
A New Beginning
–Sir
(Seedling: Mark)