The domain is in crisis. Overstrained, a body barely holds together still. Frequency of incidents has increased substantially – sky is smoke and land is fire. Acceleration ratio is above one point null, great leap forward. Having driven the biome beyond its’ critical point, we are witness to its’ peak performance and potential exhaust. This kind of tension and its’ intensity are surreal. Over the perfect landscape, looms a cloud of uncertainty – an imminent catastrophe interrupted. Orchestrated, prolonged, like a broken save. A feeling unbereably phased, with each click a threat undelivered. Yet in all the near-certainty, there is a feeling of wonder and awe. An antagonist seems present – the lame arsonist. Once the canister of Ice 9 – a literary chemical agent, which freezes everything it touches – is unlocked by a half-witted accident, the whole world halts, time stands still. The event has been foreseen and always taken into account, but its’ banality determined its’ undervaluation. The dumbest of outcomes – a decimal, that outweighs the whole system. From vantage, disarmed and accompanied by soothing sounds, I leisurely enjoy the appeal of a decline that lasts forever. It is a spectacular final note – the anti-climax.