The Zone had settled into something solid. Days passed without emergencies, and people stopped waiting for the next collapse. Houses stayed put.
Crops grew on schedule. Even the sheep seemed less chaotic, though they still demanded their bandanas. With stability came a new kind of itch. People started talking about names.
It began small. Someone joked that their old name felt like borrowed clothes. Others agreed. The Reset had wiped a lot, but not everything, and what remained sometimes pinched. A loose tradition formed:
Name Days. Once every couple of weeks, anyone could stand up in the central square and declare a new name for themselves. Amrit, who still held the reins of the Zone's deeper rules, made those declarations stick for twenty-four hours. Temporary. Playful. No big commitments.
The first big Name Day drew a decent crowd. Skritch stepped forward with his usual swagger, chest puffed out.
