For three days, Beatrix barely lifted a finger. She explored the Grey Labyrinth, discovered a new slime statue, even took a nap in a sunbeam with a tabby slime curled on her stomach.

Beatrix LeBeau stood on the wooden deck of her conservatory, watching the morning mist curl over Rainbow Island’s distant shores. Her bank account read: . Enough for a jetpack upgrade, maybe, but not the lab expansion she really wanted.

When she returned to the conservatory each evening, the plort collector was overflowing. She sold at exactly 7 PM – the market’s peak for hybrid plorts – and watched the numbers climb.

The pink slime nibbled the carrot. Beatrix checked her bank account one more time.

She sat on her deck again, sipping a pogofruit smoothie, watching her drones work in perfect silence. A small pink slime bounced past, utterly useless and utterly happy.