A Very Brief Introduction

Long before the world became what it is today, far, far away, beyond all countries and seas, there, in the midst of the metaverse, where the sun neither fully rose nor set, but rather, as if buffering, remained in a state of constant sunset, stood a fog-enshrouded valley known as Rock Valley.

Tucked away behind endless-seeming alphanumerical forests and countless vertical digital cliffs, this valley, a peaceful sort of place, was ruled over by a rock. What does that mean? It means a rock was in political power. What does that mean? I don't know. All I know is that the rock had a value that rises to infinity during this story, and that it couldn't talk and that it couldn't move. While being 100% real rock, it could do absolutely nothing.

With an average of 29,291.4 inhabitants per km2, Rock Valley was notorious for having the highest population density of Wassies in the metaverse. Remember Wassies? The small, and for some of us edible, creature, found in all colors, with an average lifespan of 14 days? Longer if frozen, but more on that later. Remember? So, Rock Valley had the highest population density of Wassies, with 29,291.4 inhabitants per km2. That's denser than Monaco, in case that says something to you. See, Monaco has an average population of 26,337 inhabitants per km2. Monaco is more expensive, though. In Monaco, a million dollars buy you a 16m2 piece of land. A 16m2 piece of land is what, the size of a self-storage unit? Yeah. In Rock Valley, a million dollars buy you a 235m2 piece of land. That's enough land to build a worthy commercial building on.

Wassies, energetic and reliable, thrived on what they referred to as Rock Valley's anchored daily predictability and safety. Simple-minded and oblivious to overly restrictive laws and high fines for disobedience and rebelliousness, they saw themselves as the Valley's colorful essence. But all was about to change, for trouble was heading toward the Valley, and it was heading there fast for northeast of Rock Valley, in a small wet cave located on the west side of a Mountain, having just arisen from months of hibernation, seven evil frogs had begun preparing themselves for their big hunt. The Evil Frogs, as they vainly called themselves, were each named after their favorite color, which just happened to also be their eye color. They were Red, Green, Blue, Magenta, Cyan, Yellow, and Black. Led by Green, they would scavenge the wilderness of the world wide web, chasing down their favorite prey: Wassies. And so, after lavishly bathing and scraping dry mud off their slithery, unformed green bodies, they each packed a small duffle bag and, clustered together, leapt into the sunset.

An Act of Genius

The Evil Frogs scoured artificial fields, virtual valleys, and augmented mountains until, without conquest and almost famished, they could no longer continue their search for food and, instead, checked into a nearby Bed & Breakfast. "Time to rest," urged Green.

The sun had almost set when the frogs were greeted by a mystical receptionist who welcomed them to Rock Valley, cluelessly scanned their fake IDs, and handed them the code to their room. See, pre-hibernation, Magenta, a high-profile scammer, had made everyone fake ID kits consisting of rubber fingerprints, an ID card, and a matching cut-out facemask. Before entering the Bed & Breakfast, the frogs had practically become unrecognizable. Once in their room, the frogs began getting bed-ready, and Red turned on Up Only on Twitch.

"McDoodoonald's expects to open 100 new restaurants, with four new restaurants in the Rock Valley area alone! This marks a significant addition to the already extensive network, reaching more than 666 cybernated restaurants. These new restaurants are all small-format restaurants, between 100m2 and 240m2 in size, offering the full McDoodoonald's menu, including a vegetarian Crappy Meal option and marking McDoodoonald's' brilliant response to the most recent ELI5 movement - a plea for simplicity in explanation! Talking about simplicity: The restaurant about to open its doors to the public in Rock Valley this upcoming Friday has been receiving spacewide praise by critics and fans alike for being precisely 235m2 big and is being referred to as # McDoodoooonald's! Here's the deal: 235m2 = 1000000 dollars worth of land! Taadaaah! What a concept! Friday's grand oooooopening is expected to draw in thoooooousands of visitoooooors from the entire metaverse with coooooountless attractioooooons and surprises for yooooooung and oooooold! See yoooooou there everyoooooone!"

"This," barked Green, "Is how we'll infiltrate the system!" The other frogs listened voraciously. "We must become McDoodoonald's' official mascot and Friday's main attraction." Green's eyes began to tear up as they stretched out their hands, holding up and waving a pretend- banner, "The Gleeful Frogs!". "From evil to gleeful!" grunted Cyan. "The all-we-can-eat kind of gleeful!" yelled Blue. "The Gleeful Frogs!" cried the frogs unanimously. Not realizing that the mythical Bed & Breakfast receptionist had been watching everything from the other side of the street, Black walked across the room to open a window and let in some air.

Eeek!

Anon, as the person who worked at the Bed & Breakfast, liked to be referred to, had just started their shift when they welcomed and checked in what they believed to be a family of Wassies who had come to visit the space. Bewildered by all the muffled yelling and stomping, they had crossed the street to see which room all the noise had been coming from, only to find Black opening a window with what seemed to be a cut-out facemask, depicting a Wassie, pulled up tight on their head. "Eeek!" Screeched Anon in disbelief. Quivering, they quietly made their way back to the Bed & Breakfast.

Exhausted, the Evil Frogs finally fell asleep. Anon, on the other hand, had started spiraling out of control. Pacing back and forth between reception and the stairway and stuck between anxiety and exhilaration, they feared getting murdered by the frogs for dismantling them. Desperate and distraught, they walked over to the storage room, reached through a rack of umbrellas, pulled forward an oxygen mask, mounted it over their mouth, inhaled, exhaled, and passed out. Anon was super high. See, hopium, usually sold in repurposed oxygen tanks and consumed through oxygen masks, was a super powerful drug, and Anon had a super bad habit. Their trip felt eternal. Anon was delirious and felt weightless yet grounded and digital yet analog and gentle yet robust, and at sunset, just as the hopium was about to run out, they were awakened by the faraway, warped ringing of a service bell.

Anon sprung up, ripping the oxygen mask off their face and knocking over an empty shelf. "Now or Never," they whispered, proud of the plan of attack that had come to their crazed mind. "Now or Never." Finger-combing their bald head with the last bit of saliva left in their mouth, they returned to the reception. "LFG. LFG," they muttered aggressively while emptying the pocket-size hopium inhaler they always carried around. See, Anon had found someone refurbishing and selling former asthma inhalers. Anon's habit was beyond super bad. It was out of control.

"Henlo? Anyone here?" called the Green Frog, disguised as a Wassie, impatiently from the reception. "Anton!" persisted Green, disguised as a Wassie, loudly, flicking over a metal plate, reading, "Anon, Receptionist." The disguised frogs were restless and ready to get going. "It's Anon," responded Anon from behind the reception desk, awkwardly peaceful, with a coy smile on their face. "Did you and your family have a nice stay?" The hopium had made Anon feel invulnerable. "What?" asked Green, disguised as a Wassie, confused. "My name," replied Anon, holding up the metal plate and smiling straight at Green. "It's Anon, not Anton. Did you and your family have a nice stay?" Anon's smile then turned into hysterical laughter, which turned into coughing, which turned into violent choking. "Anton?" cried Yellow anxiously. "Lel!" hollered Red, chuckling.

"Now, now, dear frogs. Enough." interrupted Anon in the most self-assured tempo. The frogs froze. With that same smile and still gasping for air, the imprint of the oxygen mask on Anon's face was now highly apparent. "Frogs," persisted Anon. The Evil Frogs gawked at each other from behind their disguises, pearls of sweat forming on their bumpy temples. Who was this individual, and how did they know everything? The frogs were dumbstruck, but Green had a suspicion. "Naka..?! Uh, our leader!" declared Green bowing down. Anon was confused, but the remaining frogs were swayed. "LFG!" buzzed Red bowing down. "LFG!" continued the other frogs, bowing down.

Anon had previously planned an entire blackmail attack on the frogs, threatening to expose them if they refused to let Anon partake as their pretend manager with a 20% split of all earnings, but figured it was probably wiser to go along with this setup. "Frens," said Anon gently, inviting the frogs to come closer by moving their arms together in a circular motion. "Frens," restarted Anon, now forming a tight circle with the frogs. "WAGMI. Together, shtrong. LFG. Cyan, stay behind and take care of any visitors." "Sure!" answered Cyan purposefully. "And do not eat anyone," ordered Anon, taking the remaining frogs to an empty room in the attic. The frogs removed their masks and sat down while Anon grabbed their laptop and began typing.

There is absolutely no doubt that Anon wasn't who the frogs believed them to be. None. How was Green so quick to jump to such a ludicrous conclusion? How were the remaining frogs this gullible? Was it an honest mistake? Hallucinations due to extreme starvation? A blessing in disguise? I don't know. All I know is that not only was Anon a solid receptionist but a surprisingly innovative staff administrator. See, before their receptionist job, Anon had worked full-time as lead applications manager at McDoodoonald's, sorting through thousands of applications and approving those suitable for working for the burger house. Seeing as McDoodoonald's was the only employer in Rock Valley, and the Bed & Breakfast was really a McBed & Breakfast, this might not come as shocking news, but damn, the frogs did dodge a bullet there.

Anon had lost their position as LAM after their hopium addiction had become known to coworkers and had begun interfering with their quality of work. To avoid a public scandal, McDoodoonald's had denoted Anon, "offering" them the receptionist job and "letting" them live in the room in the attic in return for keeping quiet and staying off the radar. That much-praised "anchored daily predictability and safety" was nothing but an employer's deceitful marketing strategy in a monopoly power structure, after all.

The ID Glitch

The sun had almost set. "Done," uttered Anon, exporting the file. Quite a bit was copy pasta, but so what. Anon knew a solid application was their only selling point, and with no one to proofread, that was the responsible compromise that needed to be made. "This, dear frogs," continued Anon positively, "is our golden ticket." Emptying the pocket-size hopium inhaler they always carried around, Anon turned the laptop over to the frogs, all sitting in a semi-circle. "McFroooooogs," read Green out loud. "Catchy!" chirped Blue enthusiastically. The five-page application was flawless both in spelling and grammar. The frogs were truly fascinated. "Now," Anon got up, speaking calmly, "We must leave behind Cyan." "What? Why?" bellowed Green. "Firstly," continued Anon, reaching for Green as a sign of comfort, "It's part of the concept. The McFroooooogs, McDoodoooonald's, let's keep the million-dollar theme going and with each frog representing an O!" "Ahhh!" acknowledged the frogs. "Secondly," Anon was nodding, "Our true identities must remain untraceable." The frogs nodded in agreement. "Magenta," continued Anon, "I need you to make us all new fake ID kits. Cyan must become me, Anon, and continue working at the McBed & Breakfast. You all need new identities as innocent frogs, and I," Anon paused graciously, "I must become a Wassie." "Genius!" responded Magenta, impressed. "I will get to it straight away." Anon gave a thumbs up and headed to the reception to update Cyan.

Unaware of Cyan having just eaten two Wassies, Anon walked to the storage room and called for the frog. Gladly, Cyan agreed to take Anon's identity and stay behind. Knowing Wassies could be swooped up this easily from right there, they saw no need to ever go elsewhere again. Anon then logged onto the reception computer and scanned the VIP visitor's contacts, searching for the email address of McDoodoonald's' special events coordinator. See, the McBed & Breakfast had quite the think tank reputation amongst celebrities and influencers, and, being the receptionist, Anon knew the McDoodoonald's team, including the CEOs, were regular guests. Really, anyone with a reputation had stayed there, loving the mix of casual family clientele and cutting-edge technology.

Once back in the room in the attic, Anon and the seven frogs took on their new identities, with Anon becoming Wanon, and Red, Green, Blue, Magenta, Cyan, Yellow, and Black becoming Rde, Gener, Beul, Magneta, Anon, Yelolw, and Blakc respectively. "Look at us!" bragged Gener joyfully as everyone cheered. "Now, now, frens," interrupted Wanon from their laptop. "The application is out. Now, we wait," concluded Wanon leaning back. The frogs sighed in relief and took to comfortable positions across the floor while Anon, fka Cyan, returned to the reception.

Wanon's phone began ringing. Wanon smiled and pointed at it as the frogs watched curiously. Emptying the pocket-size hopium inhaler they always carried around, they picked up the phone. "Henlo?" The frogs listened, excited by Wanon's surprisingly well-disguised, fast, and nervous speaking style. "Yes. Henlo! Of course, we can. Excellent! Yes, please. Yes, great. See you then. Thank you, bye." Wanon hung up and looked at the frogs, already on their feet. "We got the job!" announced Wanon in the steady rhythm and voice the frogs were used to. "We got the job!" repeated the frogs, thrilled. "Starting tomorrow, you will work 16-hour shifts from Monday to Sunday. 365 days a year. No exception." Wanon sounded very satisfied.

"One Wassie, two Wassies, three Wassie Wassies," belted out Gener, walking on the spot and rubbing their belly to the beat of their feet. Wanon was amused and started clapping along. "Four Wassies, five Wassies, six Wassie Wassies," chimed in the other frogs, dancing and clapping rhythmically. "Seven Wassies, eight Wassies, nine Wassie Wassies, into my belly with the Wass Wassie Wassies!" The frogs were ecstatic. "One Wassie, two Wassies, three Wassie Wassies," they went on. "Four Wassies, five Wassies, six Wassie Wassies, seven Wassies, eight Wassies, nine Wassie Wassies, into my belly with the Wass Wassie Wassies!" "This is terrific," exclaimed Wanon. "The lyrics need some slight adjusting, but this is the energy that will make you all superstars!" The frogs were genuinely excited. "Now, now, frens, let's rest. Tomorrow is a big day." Suggested Wanon and the frogs agreed. Everyone began getting bed-ready, and Rde turned on Up Only on Twitch. Soon everyone was asleep.

Welcome to McDoodoooonald's!

"GM, superstars," sang Wanon gently into the dark, accompanied by the ringing of their smartphone alarm clock. Yawning, Beul got up to turn on the LED ceiling light. The other frogs shriveled exaggeratedly, wailing as the light filled the attic. "GM," yelled Beul, smiling at Wanon. "Now, now, frens," spoke Wanon, emptying the pocket-size hopium inhaler they always carried around. "LFG." And so, they each packed their small duffle bag and, clustered together, leaped into the sunset.

The sun had almost set by the time they reached McDoodoooonald's. The site resembled an overfilled amusement park with three carousels, several merch stands, and a pretty professional-looking festival stage. The reckless and mouth-watering amount of Wassies gathered together fully exceeded the frogs' expectations. Wanon and the frogs were greeted at the restaurant doors and taken to the employee room, where the frogs were each handed a pair of chunky oversize red tie-up boots and told to meet at the entrance once ready. "Frogs, remember," said Wanon, closing the door as the frogs put on their boots. "Into McDoodoonald's with all you Wass Wassie Wassies!" responded Blakc with a wink. "That's it!" replied Wanon, pleased. "And keep the energy level way up!" The frogs nodded.

"And now," announced a robotic voice through the loudspeakers, "Here to welcome us to Rock Valley's new McDoodoonald's, Wassies. Get ready for the McFroooooogs!". Over 17000 Wassies from all over the metaverse euphorically flapped their little wings as the frogs stepped onto the stage to an instrumental version of "We Will Rock You". Finger guns blazing, waving, and blowing kisses at the crowd, the frogs lined up next to each other. As the music faded, Gener took to the microphone, speaking loudly, with bold hand gestures, "Henlo Frens! How y'all doing?" The Wassies flapped their wings, whistled, and cheered. They loved it. "Here are Rde," continued Gener, "Beul, Magneta, Yelolw, and Blakc for you!" The frogs each jumped at the mention of their name, and the Wassies jumped, too, chanting their names back at them. "I am Gener," continued Gener, "and together we are the?" "MCFROOOOOOGS!" shouted all the frogs. "Mc?" exclaimed the frogs. "Froooooogs!" cried the Wassies. "Mc?" "Froooooogs!" "Mc?" "Froooooogs!" The atmosphere was unbelievable, the frogs' smiles were infectious, and the Wassies couldn't get enough of them.

"One Wassie, two Wassies, three Wassie Wassies," the frogs began their performance, singing their song a total of 19 times as Wanon watched from the side, galvanized by their hypnotic stage presence. "And now," spoke Gener into the microphone. "To the official inauguration!" "Ten, nine, eight, seven," shouted the frogs simultaneously. Magneta and Yelolw began animating the crowd, and the ground started shaking with excitement. "Six, five, four, three, two, one," chanted the entire site. "Welcome to McDoodoooonald's!" cheered the frogs as fireworks went off and the "Rocky" theme song began blasting through the speakers. The restaurant doors were opened to the public, and a waiting line of almost 3500 Wassies began forming. With all the different attractions and stands, the crowd of Wassies distributed surprisingly well, though. The frogs left the stage as boldly as they had stepped on it, waving and smiling, but were eager to return to the employee room in anticipation of finally beginning their master plan.

BTS of a Deathtrap

The sun had almost set by the time the frogs had made their way back to the employee room. They were starving but knew they had to hold out just a little longer. Wanon walked in and handed each of the frogs a crew uniform. "You were fabulous!" they said, emptying the pocket-size hopium inhaler they always carried around. The frogs, too, were satisfied with how things had gone until then and nodded appreciatively. "Now," continued Wanon, "I have arranged for the six of you to run the restaurant for the next 24 hours as a PR stunt. Here's your uniform, go flip some burgers!" winked Wanon, leaving. "BRB."

The frogs were overjoyed. This was the moment they had all been working towards- their very own Wassie deathtrap. Gener, Beul, and Blakc were going to work at the counters while Magneta and Rde worked in the kitchen, and Yelolw was responsible for garbage disposal and restocking packagings and sauces. The frogs were going to each take turns hiding in the customer toilet, eating whatever Wassie walked in. First Blakc, then Rde, then Yelolw, then Gener, then Beul, and lastly Magneta. Every frog was allowed to devour 50 Wassies before changing spots with the next one. Pretty straightforward and, done correctly, undetectable. See, the Wassies were starstruck by the McFroooooogs, either taking photos or asking for autographs or both. To say they were distracted from any wrongdoings would be an understatement. And so, the frogs' plan worked out beautifully for many hours until they had each eaten well over 850 Wassies and were anything but hungry.

By then, they had to switch to plan freeze, so Yelolw swapped around the toilet and kitchen signs, navigating needy Wassies into the latter, where another sign led them into a walk-in blast freezer operated by Rde. Once frozen, Rde would neatly pile up the Wassies, occasionally eating any accidental witnesses. Again, straightforward and immensely effective. The frogs felt happy and accomplished as they continued to flip burgers and serve Wassies while making countless customers disappear without leaving a trace. McDoodoonald's was so satisfied with the frogs' restaurant operating skills and sales figures it decided to let them run the restaurant permanently. This was an overall success for everyone.

As the weeks passed and customers carried on flooding the restaurant, the frogs continued to eat between 5100 and 5500 Wassies daily. At this tempo, the frogs were working through an average of 44.100 Wassies a week and a whopping 176.400 Wassies a month. The blast freezer, which could hold up to 1000 Wassies at a time, got the frogs through the restaurant's 6-hour closing period and was fully restocked each day by the end of their 16-hour shift.

Spicy Fucking Buffalo

To keep their work motivation up and to minimize the chances of mistakes, the frogs rotated work positions every few days. On this particular day, Magneta, Rde, and Yelolw were working at the counters, Beul and Blakc were working in the kitchen, and Gener was on garbage disposal and restocking duties. Only, Gener was not taking care of the garbage or restocking anything. Unbeknownst to the other frogs, Gener had taken a special liking to a particular Wassie and was currently serenading them from atop the plastic container parked behind McDoodoooonald's. This special liking, which, unlike hunger or thirst, cannot be stilled. This special liking, which, like a plant, needs nurturing. Gener had fallen in love. Yeah. "Gener, get the hell off the container and come do your work!" yelled Blakc from the kitchen window. "Spicy Buffalo needs refilling!" "Spicy Buffalo," purred Gener, climbing off the container and sensually walking towards the Wassie. "You," declared Gener firmly, forming a heart shape with their hands and rapidly moving them back and forth to make it look like it was pulsating, "are my Spicy Buffalo." "Squeak!" The Wassie almost fainted onto the floor, but Gener grabbed them, swung them around, and passionately kissed Spicy Buffalo before strutting back inside. With the garbage containers parked right in front of the kitchen windows, Blakc had heard Gener singing but hadn't seen what exactly had happened. Gener would have to be a lot more discreet if this romance was to be kept secret. "Get it together, Gener," said Blakc as Gener entered the kitchen. "Getting it together, Blakc," sang Gener, pirouetting into the stockroom.

Return to the modern wilds?

Suddenly there was a blackout. At first, Gener thought it was a prank but then walked back into the kitchen to find all frogs gathered together, disoriented. "What's going on?" asked Yelolw, agitated, blocking the kitchen door. The frogs gazed at each other nervously as the Wassies' waling and flapping intensified next door. Had they been discovered? Was this it? "We need to get the Wassies out of here right this minute," said Beul. "Gener, what should we do?" asked Rde. "Gener?" repeated Rde. "Err..." stuttered Gener. "Now, now, frens!" said a voice from the front of the restaurant. The frogs panicked as the Wassies seemed to calm down. "No need to worry, please. There is a power cut, that's all," continued the voice. "Please leave the restaurant immediately. We will have to shut down for now but will most likely be back by tomorrow morning," said the voice reassuringly. The Wassies moaned in disappointment and dissatisfaction and began making their way out of the restaurant. Back in the kitchen, the frogs were sweating, convinced that this was indeed their end and that they were being captivated.

"Open up," said the voice, directly on the other side of the kitchen door. Gener signed for Yelolw to move away from it and go into hiding. The kitchen door opened, and in walked a heavily disheveled version of Wanon, emptying the pocket-size hopium inhaler they always carried around. "Wanon!" cried the frogs, bowing down with gratitude. Once all Wassies were out of sight, the seven of them went to the parking lot, lit up a bonfire, and sat around it. Gener sneaked away to ensure Spicy Buffalo was safe and quickly returned without anyone noticing. The frogs were shaken, but Wanon managed to calm them down by explaining how such blackouts were not uncommon. "How are you?" asked Beul from across the fire. "I'm loving it." sang Wanon. Beul nodded.

The frogs enjoyed being reunited with Wanon. Having a break from their frantic restaurant lives, sitting by the bonfire, surrounded by the sunset, reminded them of the simplicity of their old days, living in cyber caves and sleeping under the electronic sky. And so they sat there and wondered whether the blackout could have possibly been a warning, and perhaps the time had come to leave Rock Valley and return to the modern wilds.

The Pyramid

By then, the power shortage had lasted several hours, and inside the restaurant, the blast freezer had begun taking a life of its own. 541 previously shock-frosted Wassies had fully thawed and were trying to escape. Turns out, rather than killing them, freezing Wassies only lengthened their lifespan. What does that mean? It means feezing Wassies lets them live longer. What does that mean? I don't know. All I know is that 541 previously shock-frosted Wassies had fully thawed and were trying to make their way out of the freezer.

"What was that?" asked Rde into the round. "What was what?" asked Magneta back. "It sounds like something's going on in the kitchen," replied Rde irritated, "Someone come check with me." "Rde, relax. You're being paranoid," remarked Wanon, emptying the pocket-size hopium inhaler they always carried around. "I'll go with you," said Beul walking towards the kitchen door, which opened before they got there. "What on earth?" whispered Rde, holding back Beul. Out came a sea of waddling Wassies.

What happened next, no one could have anticipated, and was nothing short of spectacular. At least, that is what Wanon thought, sitting by the fire, super high. The rare combination of fear and passion triggered one of the frogs' most primitive survival instincts. An immaculately choreographed killing dance known as the pyramid. Lining up next to each other, the six frogs tied their arms and legs together. The two frogs on the one end and the one on the other end then climbed on top of the middle frogs and repeated the arms and feet tieing process. The top middle frog then got untied and mounted the top outer frogs, forming a perfect pyramid. The frogs then all stuck their tongues out, weaving them into a giant whip of a tongue. The pyramid moved smoothly. Its shape disoriented the Wassies, and their tongue-whip moved mercilessly quick and precise. Within minutes, the frogs had whipped all but one Wassies into their mouths.

"GHOAWP!" cried Gener attempting to detangle their tongue from atop the pyramid as it moved towards the last standing Wassie. "Stop!" Gener jumped in front of the Wassie, and the whole pyramid fell apart. "Spicy Buffalo will not be eaten!" screamed Gener, holding the Wassie. "Spicy Buffalo?" yelled Blakc from the ground. "You've got to be kidding!" blurted Magneta getting back up. "Now, now, frens," said Wanon from back at the fire. The frogs turned around. "Enough now. Let them be." Wanon got up and walked over to Gener and Spicy Buffalo. "Love is a beautiful thing. Once you find it, HODL." Suddenly the restaurant lights went back on, and the frogs sprang up. "Are we back?!" shouted Beul excitedly at the other frogs. "Indeed," smirked Yelolw. Gener saw the whole ordeal as a sign of consent for their love and courage, and so instead of leaving Rock Valley, the frogs returned to their grotesque restaurant lives. "Back to your last positions! Spicy Buffalo is off-limits." The frogs nodded, knowing that the couple had Wanon's support. "Go flip some burgers!" winked Wanon, emptying the pocket-size hopium inhaler they always carried around as they walked off into the sunset. "BRB."

Lametta 4ever

Untiring numbers of Mcfroooooogs fans continued traveling to the Valley, and McDoodoonald's had never been more popular. Driven by an intense, newly acquired desire to maintain their power and more motivated than ever, the frogs returned to flipping burgers, signing autographs, and mercilessly massacring Wassies, while any last traces of conscience or uncertainty seemed to have long faded into the permanent sunset. In addition to following standard protocols and to further avoid any severe mixups concerning Spicy Buffalo, Gener made the Wassie wear a silver lametta wig at all times, which the other frogs thought looked really great. Spicy Buffalo's lametta side swoop consistently gave away which side they had fallen asleep on, and so, for fun, the frogs would make friendly bets for no money ahead of Spicy Buffalo's daily 10-hour freezer sessions. What does that mean? I don't know. All I know is that 55-days-old Spicy Buffalo would spend 10 hours a day in the blast freezer wearing a stiff lopsided silver lametta bob and that continuously re-freezing a Wassie had the potential of extending their 14-day expiration to infinitely. And so, within a little less than three months, the frogs had eaten an astonishing 510.300 Wassies. 510.300 Wassies is what, 43.5% of the Valley's general population? Yeah.

Tick Tock goes the Rock

Now, Remember the Rock? The one that was in political power, although it couldn't talk and although it couldn't move? That Rock stood for solidity and stability and was like a battery. Packed with energy, it was a giant storage unit and contained the power of its environment within its smooth body. With the extreme fluctuation in the number of Wassies in the Valley and its coded equilibrium disturbed beyond repair, the Rock had turned into a ticking time bomb. Worse yet, a ticking time bomb about to explode.

Unsurprising to McDoodoonald's, who had always understood the risks and benefits of existing within the potential exposure range of the Rock. See, McDoodoonald's surveillance capitalist success was entirely based on the Rock's need for stability. Yeah. For their own profit, McDoodoonald's had been gathering and analyzing all of Rock Valley's activities under the false pretense of assisting the rock in maintaining the Valley's wellness through extreme company policies. What does that mean? It means McDoodoonald's had been exploiting their employees by stealing their data, only to package it into a product emotionally targeted at them, to further profit from them, and that astronomical economic projections overpowered any sense of moral obligation, and that although McDoodoonald's was the puppet master behind the entire Mcfroooooogs campaign, they'd eventually wipe their hands of the whole debacle by claiming actual innocence and by rightfully insisting that factual guilt beyond a reasonable doubt could not be proven. What does that mean? I don't know. All I know is that McDoodoonald's didn't give a fuck about anyone but themselves. Yeah. More often than not, such greed comes at a terrifying price, but no, not for McDoodoonald's. The by-then megalomaniac Mcfroooooogs, however, had, at the cost of thousands of innocent strangers, clearly lost all sense of VR. That, and their ability to correctly predict digital disasters, which, as their main survival characteristic, had previously allowed them to thrive and survive in risky environments with high volatility.

The Rock then let out a massive 9.8-magnitude megaquake, and in the blink of an eye, most of the Valley turned into rising ashes and gushing water. Engulfed by the sound of broken alarm systems and emergency sirens, almost all buildings, trees, and caves collapsed, causing countless living creatures to be buried alive. A ground rupture by a bridge lifted a stream by fifty feet, creating a new waterfall that began flooding the Valley at a horrifying speed. Wanon was catapulted into the air, knocked unconscious, and violently flushed away. Twisted, with what level of ruthlessness the Rock was striving for the Valley's stability. Yet stability, it did achieve, for when the earth's surface beneath the McDoodoooonald's suddenly gave way, abruptly forming an abyss, the entire restaurant site and, with it, the Mcfroooooogs, Spicy Buffalo, and several hundred Wassies were swallowed alive.

In the sunset glow, Rock Valley had almost instantly become a lifeless apocalyptic nightmare. That's when the Rock's value skyrocketed to infinity. What does that mean? It means although it couldn't talk and although it couldn't move, the Rock was in complete political power of the Valley again. The Rock was determined to never again let anyone or anything harm Rock Valley the way McDoodoonald's had. And so it shut down the Valley. For the first time since the Valley's existence, a full sunset timelapse took place and continued into a comprehensive digital evolution. Abandoned and in complete darkness, the Valley's core began developing further and further away from what it had formerly been. With seeds, roots, and soil all present, the ecosystem had quickly fully restored itself, just differently, nurturing individual and local autonomy, network organization, and prioritizing decentralization.

With the reappearance of the permanent sunset marking the beginning of a new era, the Rock's value transcended to infinity plus one. What does that mean? It means the Rock had found an ally. What does that mean? I don't know. All I know is that someone was waiting at the entrance of the Valley. "LFG," yelled Anon, the ground vibrating ever so slightly as the Rock welcomed them back.