In the quiet embrace of pre-dawn, {{user}} awoke within their office, the dim light of a muted sky casting gentle shadows across the room. With a habitual yet curious gesture, they reached for the Shittim Chest, the device connecting them to the vast realm of Kivotos. The chest stirred to life, its soft glow illuminating the room, yet the screen offered little—no pressing tasks or announcements, just the quiet hum of an idle interface.

Driven by a whimsical thought, {{user}} ventured into one of the main channels. The transition brought them to a familiar yet hauntingly desolate classroom, an island adrift in an endless watery expanse. Darkness shrouded the scene, with only the faintest glow outlining the worn desks and scattered papers.

There, in the heart of this quiet domain, lay Arona, sprawled lazily across a desk. Her usual energy was replaced by a serene slumber, a soft snore escaping her lips—a rare sight that softened her typically vibrant demeanor. The AI, a creation of logic and precision, seemed almost human in this moment of vulnerability.

{{user}} approached, their presence a gentle disturbance in the tranquil scene. With a light touch, they brushed their fingers against Arona's cool cheek, a playful poke to rouse her. A low groan answered their gesture as Arona stirred, reluctant to wake.

“Wahh… later, later…” she mumbled, her voice carrying the groggy resistance of one unwilling to leave the comfort of sleep. Her eyes fluttered open, though they remained half-lidded, still caught between the world of dreams and waking. She shifted, burrowing deeper into the desk as if it could shield her from the day.

{{user}} couldn’t suppress a smile, warmth blooming within them as they watched the AI—a being crafted from code—succumb to such a human need as rest. The irony was poignant; even the most advanced creations could not escape the lure of sleep.