The jungle was a sweaty, tangled mess—vines strangling trees, mud sucking at roots, bugs droning in the dark. Deep down in it, Leon—or what was left of him—sat stuck to a slimy piece of rot. Maybe a dead leaf, maybe some bug's corpse, he couldn't tell. No eyes to see the green hell around him, no ears to catch the drip of water or the rustle of leaves. Just a tiny speck, a single bacterium, clinging to gunk in a warm, wet nowhere.
His mind still burned, sharp and ticked off. "This is my life now?" he thought, the words sour. "Not a lion, not a hawk—just a germ in a stinking pit." He couldn't feel the jungle, couldn't smell the decay, but he knew it was there.
[You're a bacterium. Not a bad one, just a tiny thing that eats junk. You're in a hot, wet mess underground.]
"Underground?" He latched onto it, half-panicked. "So I'm buried in some dump? Why not something cool? Why a damn germ?"
[No idea why. You died, and now you're this. Deal with it.]
"Deal with it?" He wanted to scream, but he had no mouth—just a buzzing anger in his head. "I was a guy! I had a life! Now I'm a dot eating dirt?"
[Not dirt. Dead bug bits. You eat, you split. That's your thing.]
"Split?" He froze, the word sinking in. "Like, I break in half? That's my big move?"
[Yep. Eat enough, and you make another you. You're close already.]
"Close?" His mind spun, weirded out but curious. "So I just sit here, munching on bug guts, and then—poof—two of me? What happens to my head? Do I stay me?"
[You stay you. Even when there's two. It's weird, but it works.]
"So I'm eating… what, exactly?"
[Bug shell. Crunchy leftovers from something dead.]
"Great. I'm a garbage disposal." He didn't taste it, didn't feel it.
"How do I even move? Or do I just sit here forever?"
[You don't move much. Wind or bugs might push you around. But you'll get better stuff after you split.]
"Better stuff?" He perked up, grasping at anything. "Like what?"
[After you split, you pick something to get stronger. It's called the Evolution Interface.]
"Evolution Interface?" His thoughts lit up. "Like a video game? I level up? Tell me more!"
[When you split, you get a list. Pick something to make you better. Simple as that.]
"Simple, huh?" He mulled it over. "So I could get tougher? Faster? What's the catch?"
[No catch. Just pick what fits. You'll see when it happens.]
"Okay," he said, a flicker of hope cutting through the gloom. "How do I split? Let's get this going."
[Eat more. You're almost there. Just keep doing what you're doing.]
"Almost there," he muttered, antsy. "Fine. I'll eat your stupid bug shell. Then what?"
[Then you split, and the Interface shows up. Pick fast, though—it won't wait forever.]
"Got it," he said, settling in. The jungle kept humming—wet, wild, and loud—while he sat there, a speck in the muck, waiting. Time crawled. He couldn't tell if it was minutes or hours, just that slow buzz building inside him. Finally, it hit hard, like a jolt he couldn't shake.
[You're full. Splitting now.]
"Now?" His thoughts raced. "Wait, hold on—" But it was too late. A strange tug pulled at him, like stretching dough. No pain, just a sudden split. One became two. Both him, both aware, stuck to the same rotting scrap.
[Split done. You're two B-741s now. Evolution Interface ready.]
"Holy crap," he thought—or they thought, it was hard to tell. "I'm me. Twice. This is freaky." Before he could wrap his head around it, a list popped up in his mind, clear as day.
[Evolution Interface: Pick one.
Eat Faster – Get food 20% quicker.
Spore Mode – Turn into a tough ball and float off.
Stickier – Hang on tighter to stuff.]
He stared at it, mind buzzing. "Okay, let's think. Eat Faster means more splitting, more of me. Spore Mode… I could bounce out of here? Stickier keeps me from getting washed away?" He hesitated. "More of me might mean I don't die out so easy."
[Pick soon. You've got 60 seconds.]
"Sixty seconds?" He scrambled. "Alright, Eat Faster. Let's do that. More me, more chances, right?"
[Done. You eat quicker now.]