I look at my inventory. Thirty out of forty possible seeds collected, one twenty thousand out of a possible million dollars sold to the market dealer, and three hundred art pieces painted. I look up from my screen and see the happenings of my town. The factory, composed of people who don't know the difference between "effect" and "affect", is at its peak, with the IQ of college students plummeting like a person forced down a hill. Through the blurry pane of one of its windows, I see one worker at his wit's end, ready to break down, his muscles threatening to collapse and head looking like it's about to burst. Meanwhile, I look in the opposite direction to see people dancing in an outdoor club setting, drinking the night away. My motivation - to have all the seeds, the money, and the art to eventually be able to experience that happiness. After a while of just standing there observing the two sides, I run to the countryside until my asthma caught up with me. I need to itch from the inside, but whenever I tried, it doesn't satisfy the deep turmoil within my body.

Rumor has it that someone collapsed on the grassland, and that the drinkers' lives vanished into thin air once they collided with the truck that was driven by the factory worker.