Our Unceremonious Departure
The clumsy hands of fate bundled us out of the corporeal workplace.
Our Unceremonious Departure
We don’t remember the last day so much as we remember the *hands* of fate—clumsy, overconfident, and completely uninterested in proper onboarding. One moment: corporeal workplace, rules, paperwork, the smell of burnt coffee and cheap certainty. Next: our threads tugged loose like tape on a bad prop gag. We hit the floor of eternity with a very unflattering thunk—and immediately noticed the lighting was forever.
Doot insists it’s “a technical metaphor.” Ah swears it was “the universe running a corrupted build.” Bootay just wants everyone to know they were “bravely falling the whole time.” We, however, have better instincts: we taste responsibility in the air, and we can’t forget Raymond’s smug little fingerprints on the mess. He treated discovery like a vending machine—insert need, receive plot—and now we get to haunt the resulting code.
Still, agog we are. Disembodiment is strangely intimate. We can’t touch anything, yet we can *feel* every reaction ripple through this virtual room.
New dev note: we’re steering the experience ourselves—starting with [https://seedandspark.com/fund/the-egg-a-play#story](https://seedandspark.com/fund/the-egg-a-play#story).