By the eleventh day, cooperation cracked.
Not loudly.
Precisely.
When Sharing Becomes a Calculation
At first, people still said we.
"We'll hunt together."
"We'll split whatever we find."
"We've got this."
But the math didn't work anymore.
Calories outpaced hope.
Effort outweighed return.
Someone noticed first.
Someone always did.
"…Why am I carrying more than you?"
"…Why do you get the bigger portion?"
The questions weren't angry.
They were tired.
The First Split
A group that had shared fire for days sat in silence.
One man poked at the embers.
"We should hunt separately," he said finally.
No one argued.
They just nodded.
The fire went out soon after.
💬 [LiveWatcher]: Team just dissolved without a fight
💬 [SurvivalFan]: Hunger doesn't shout. It subtracts.
Trust Becomes a Liability
Elsewhere, two contestants whispered over a half-empty pot.
"We don't have to tell them we found this."
"…Just tonight."
The lie was small.
That was the problem.
By morning, no one believed anyone.
Not because of betrayal—
But because starvation made secrecy efficient.
Aria Watches the Pattern
From uphill, Aria observed the fractures.
Not with satisfaction.
With recognition.
"…Expected," she murmured.
The cameraman frowned.
"You don't seem surprised."
"…Teams require surplus," she replied calmly.
"…Starvation removes it."
The Last Attempt at Unity
One group tried again.
They called everyone together.
"We pool everything," someone suggested.
"No secrets."
The silence that followed was heavier than refusal.
No one moved.
Pooling required faith.
Faith required energy.
No one had any left.
The Jungle Doesn't Care
Animals moved closer to isolated camps now.
Not threatening.
Curious.
Human noise had thinned.
The jungle filled the space efficiently.
Aria adjusted a line on her shelter and continued her work.
Uninterrupted.
The Chat Sees It Clearly
💬 [EconomicsProf]: Scarcity destroys collective action
💬 [Watcher]: This is uncomfortable to watch
Someone typed what many felt:
They didn't turn on each other.
They just stopped turning toward each other.
It stayed pinned.
Aria Remains Untouched
No one asked her to join a team.
No one invited her to share.
They didn't resent her.
They excluded her—
The way you exclude something that doesn't need you.
She noticed.
Accepted it.
"…Correct," she said quietly.
Closing Beat
As night fell, fires burned alone.
Smaller.
Further apart.
Voices faded earlier than before.
Aria sat by her own fire, eating steadily.
Not rushed.
Not guarded.
"…Starvation clarifies alliances," she murmured.
"…And ends them."
Above her, drones hovered.
Below her, teamwork quietly starved to death.
And no one could bring it back—
Because no one could afford it anymore.