Jake leaned back, wiping sweat from his brow. Outside his window, the real field lay fallow, choked with thistle. But on the monitor? Golden grain filled virtual trailers. Virtual money stacked into a virtual account.
Another flicker. This time, the tractor stuttered. The sound glitched—a low, guttural growl instead of the usual diesel hum. The field warped. For a second, the canola turned black. Then brown. Then dead.
“Harvest 98% complete,” the game announced.
Jake ignored it. Just the crack acting up.