"It's good to finally have modern appliances at home."
Felix lounged in his yard as the washing machine rattled to a stop beside him. He pulled out the damp clothes and hung them one by one on the line, then eased into the creaky chair by his door, peeling an apple under the sun.
"Hive Mind," he said, eyes drifting toward the clear water of the sandbox pond, "didn't you mention a player already entered the simulation?"
Of course, he couldn't see them. At this stage, the player was still nothing more than a single-celled spore—microscopic and insignificant.
Inside the sandbox, spores came and went like sparks in a fire. Constantly evolving. Constantly dying. Players were just another batch of contenders thrown into the eternal struggle for survival.
"What happens if a player quits midway?" he asked lazily.
The Hive Mind replied in its calm, metallic voice:
"If the player disconnects, their spore will continue evolving autonomously, guided by instinct and probability. Upon returning, the player may no longer recognize the lifeform they began with."
"Fair enough," Felix said with a shrug.
It was supposed to be a casual simulation game. People had real lives—logging out midway was normal.
And if you lost? Just start over. Try again. See what bizarre creature you could become next. That was part of the fun.
Honestly, most players wouldn't last more than a few hours. Without a solid understanding of evolutionary theory, surviving against the sandbox's naturally selected apex organisms was nearly impossible.
Felix grinned darkly.
"I'll just wait until they evolve something decent… then steal their work. Plagiarize the fruits of their labor. My Bugapes will outperform whatever trash they manage to cobble together."
The Hive Mind responded dryly:
"Species created through artificial genetic engineering typically possess lower long-term evolutionary potential than those shaped by natural selection."
"…So you're saying theirs might be better than mine?"
Felix paused, mildly offended, then let out a slow sigh.
"Fine. We'll see. Hopefully they make something interesting enough to at least compete with my Bugapes."
He turned his gaze back to the pond.
"Come on, new species… show me something worthwhile."
So far, the only player had repeatedly died in the earliest stages. Bored, Felix shifted his attention to the broader sandbox world.
The Great Flood had scoured the land clean. Civilization lay in ruins, and recovery would take centuries.
But with the simulation running at one-hundred-times acceleration, that translated to only a few days in reality.
In the aftermath, Utnapishtim rose as a wise and noble leader, guiding the survivors after the fall of Sumer. He led his people to the devastated plains of Mesopotamia and founded a new settlement.
A century later, his grandson Ishbiela inherited leadership. Ambitious and brilliant, he renamed their tribe:
Babylon.
That name would echo through history.
The age of the Sumerians had been brilliant but brief—a spark in the dark. The Magus Kingdom of Babylon, however, would endure for generations.
---
Meanwhile, in the real world, Marcus Hale was getting absolutely destroyed.
He had died countless times. His early offspring were wiped out before they even developed eyes. Eventually—barely—he managed to evolve a mouth and weak sensory organs.
Then he died again.
No limbs. No weapons. Just a miserable floating blob.
"F*ck this game. It's way too hardcore!" he groaned, yanking off his VR headset.
And yet… he couldn't stop.
The realism was insane. The sensory feedback. The limitless evolutionary paths. Every failure only fueled his obsession.
"Extinct again? My eyes were too small!? Fine—next time I'm evolving huge, beautiful eyes!"
Fueled by frustration and spite, Marcus stormed into his college library. People stared in disbelief as the notorious game addict buried himself in thick textbooks.
Evolutionary chemistry. Biogenetics. Advanced simulation theory.
No one could believe it.
Half a day later, armed with basic theory and pure stubbornness, he finally succeeded in creating something that lived.
Slimy tentacles. A fanged mouth. And—true to his word—a massive, grotesque eye.
The creature was nothing more than a giant eyeball wrapped in writhing tendrils.
Hideous. Monstrous.
But alive.
"Hahahaha! I did it! Look at this glorious eye! Big! Beautiful!"
Heart pounding, Marcus guided the monstrosity toward the shore.
"What an incredible world… the detail, the scale, the realism! I've evolved an amphibian! The world is mine!"
---
Back in the yard, Felix took another bite of his apple.
Then he blinked.
Something strange was crawling out of the pond.
"…What the hell is that?"
He squinted at the hideous creature dragging itself ashore.
"A giant eyeball with tentacles and fangs? Seriously? That's your evolutionary breakthrough?" He shook his head. "Naturally evolved species would never look like this. You obsessed maniac. You just really wanted to see the world, huh?"
By all evolutionary logic, any organism that dumped that many nutrients into a single oversized eyeball should've been eliminated long ago.
It was utterly useless.
Felix laughed helplessly.
"What an abomination. A half-finished monstrosity… though I guess it does resemble an Evil Eye from myth."
He was still amused—
"Hey!"
A knock sounded at the gate. It was Ellie.
"Open up! I brought food!"
"One sec," Felix called back.
He glanced at the eldritch creature one last time, then casually stepped on it as he passed.
"Can't hesitate in this world."
---
Inside the simulation, Chen Wenshan's screen flashed red:
YOU HAVE DIED. PLEASE START OVER.
"…???"
He stared blankly.
I worked so hard. I evolved. I climbed ashore. I was about to conquer the world!
And then—bam. Game over?
"F*cking developers! Come out and fight me!!!"
At the gate, Felix opened the door with a smile.
"Welcome back," he said.
Ellie stepped inside, carrying warm food.
Life—both divine and mundane—went on.