"My orchard finally has modern appliances," Xu Zhi murmured to himself as he sat in the sunshine of his backyard garden. Beside him, the washing machine sputtered to a halt with a loud hum. He retrieved the damp laundry, hanging each item carefully on the line, then returned to his chair at the doorway. He picked up an apple and methodically peeled it, savoring the simple ritual.
"Hive mind, have players already begun entering the sandbox?" Xu Zhi asked, gazing at the crystal‑clear water of the small pond he'd installed.
He knew he couldn't see the players directly—they existed as single‑celled spores, invisible to his naked eye. Countless spores were now evolving simultaneously in that tiny sandbox, each controlled by a player's consciousness competing with nature's own evolutionary forces.
"What happens if a player quits mid‑game?" Xu Zhi wondered aloud.
"The spore continues to evolve autonomously," the hive mind explained. "Without the player's guidance, it will evolve naturally. By the time the player returns, the organism may have changed so drastically that it no longer recognizes itself—evolution proceeds every second."
Xu Zhi shrugged. This was meant to be a casual sandbox experience. It was perfectly acceptable to drop in, drop out, and start fresh. After all, each game lasted only two to three days for seasoned players; casual participants would likely face extinction within hours, lacking the hardcore evolutionary strategy needed to survive.
"When they do produce a unique, high‑potential species, we'll appropriate it for the main sandbox," Xu Zhi said with a sly grin. "I suspect my own insect‑ape lineage will remain stronger than most creations—but we'll see."
"Artificially engineered genomes seldom outperform naturally evolved ones," the hive mind cautioned.
Xu Zhi paused, considering the implication. "All right—let's watch and wait. Hopefully these players will spawn novel species to enrich the main sandbox's post‑Flood world and challenge my insect‑ape line."
He felt a thrill of anticipation. Turning his attention to the grand sandbox, he observed that progress remained slow: after the third mass extinction, ecosystems had barely begun to recover. It would take centuries for biodiversity to rebound significantly.
Following Sumer's collapse, Utanapishtim had led survivors in rebuilding tribal settlements atop the flooded Mesopotamian ruins. Over a hundred years later, his grandson Ishbi‑Erra had assumed leadership, rebranding the community as the Babylon tribe—a name destined to resonate through history. Sumer's ephemeral brilliance under Gilgamesh would give way to the enduring legacy of ancient Babylon's sorcerer‑kings.
In his dorm room, Chen Wenshan had discovered just how punishing "Spore Evolution" truly was. He had died countless times as a spore, each generation evolving slightly further until finally he developed rudimentary eyes and a mouth to consume plankton—only to be swiftly hunted down and extinguished again.
"This game is insanely hardcore," he muttered, removing his VR headset. Yet the unparalleled realism of the virtual sensation and the limitless potential for evolutionary creativity kept pulling him back in.
"I died again! My eyes were too small—I refuse to accept defeat. I'll evolve huge, beautiful eyes next time!"
Fuelled by stubborn determination, Chen rushed to his university library to study evolutionary biology. Armed with a dense English‑language textbook on genetics, he returned to the game brimming with new strategies.
Hours later, he finally succeeded in evolving a viable amphibious species: a grotesque mass of slimy tentacles encircling a single colossal eyeball perched atop a tiny mouth lined with razor‑sharp teeth.
"Yes!" Chen exclaimed triumphantly. "Look at those rivers and mountains—this world is breathtakingly vivid! After 70+ gigabytes, it's worth every byte. I'll command my species to conquer the land. This world belongs to me!"
Back in the courtyard, Xu Zhi lounged in his rocking chair, finishing his apple as he watched the bizarre new creature clamber ashore in the mini‑sandbox. He blinked in disbelief.
"What on earth evolved into that monstrosity? Natural evolution would never produce such a malformed organism. Its eye is two‑thirds of its body—what kind of obsession with sight drives this creature? Evolutionarily speaking, devoting most nutrients to a useless eyeball should be suicidal!"
He chuckled, shaking his head. "Unreliable design… unless it's meant to resemble some mythic evil eye."
His thoughts were interrupted by a series of loud knocks on the door. "Coming!" he called out.
Chen Xi appeared in the doorway bearing a tray of steaming homemade dishes. Xu Zhi rose, stepping forward—and his foot happened to land squarely on the creature's single eyeball.
Squish! It collapsed into a pulpy mess.
A sudden message flashed in Chen Wenshan's VR display: "Defeat. You have exited the game. Please try again."
Chen Wenshan's expression froze in utter confusion. He had survived long enough to emerge from the primordial sea—and now, just as he was poised to claim dominion, he'd been squashed by a random footstep? Furious, he fumed at the "devilish" game designers.
Meanwhile, Xu Zhi closed the door, unfazed. "Hesitation leads to defeat," he mused, settling back into his chair to enjoy the meal Chen Xi had delivered.