 I woke up after a night of thin sleep to my mechanical alarm, realizing that today was the day I flung off my bedcovers, hastily got myself dressed, and I burst out of my house. It was the day of the Birdsville Bake Off, and I was going to win it. As I was sprinting over to the Bake Off building, I passed an old lady who told me, Look, Emily, well I didn't quite know her, so I just waved as I continued to run. Eventually, exhausted, I came to the door, the plaque above the door read, Birdsville Bake Off building, in a gray curvy font, anticipation filled my feathers, as I pushed open the heavy door and entered the confectionery contest. I found myself behind a kitchen counter, an array of assorted baking ingredients in front of me, flour, salt, eggs. I looked around at my competitors, my friends, who thought that they were going to win this baking contest. They were all wrong. I looked up at the neon clock attached to the ceiling that would time us, and the contest wasn't based around time, but it was a factor that the judges used to score the bake off, and the timer read, 20 seconds. The contest was starting in 20 seconds. I heard an announcer who I couldn't see shout over the nervousness in the room, who told us that it was time to begin. And I read the recipe for my grandma's famous muffin memorized down to the fiber, two cups of flour, three eggs, five pinches of cinnamon, mixed until you can't see the flakes of cinnamon anymore. Pour into a muffin pan and cook for 20 minutes. As I prepared my special dish, I looked around at the other pastries being baked. There were cookies, cakes, bread, doughnuts, and bagels, all being molded from dough. I was the only one making muffins. I knew that would give me an edge. Before I could press the timer button on the oven, I heard an ear-curdling scream, and I turned around to see one of the bakers, a green feathered woman with a shocked look on her face in the midst of a mental breakdown. I… I… I… she said, stuttering over her words. Never imagined it would be over this quickly. Look out the window. And then she collapsed. I suddenly became acutely aware of a darkness visible through the windows. I stopped what I was doing. I pressed my beak against one, peering into the darkness. It was morning when I arrived. Why was it night now? It wasn't night though. There were no stars. Not even any visible land, just pure dark. It was like I could reach out to touch it. Turned around and I saw a pelican girl who finished her cookies early and was taking them to the judging room. Her arms and upper body were shivering as if she was struggling against molasses. When she opened the door, I saw the blackness emanating from behind, the same as the windows. I heard her scream as she walked straight into the blackness. It has been five hours. Three other girls participating in the bake off finished their dishes, a cake, a plate of brownies and a plate of chocolate chip cookies that looked delicious. All three got possessed to bring their dishes into the blackness to die. My muffins, my great delicious muffins have been in the oven for five hours. By that time I had been in the fetal position next to the oven, panicking. One of the other bakers, a penguin girl wearing a baseball cap, she said that I'm mixing, complaining about how her arm was sore and everyone else was locked in various stages of the process. We couldn't idle. We couldn't. It felt wrong. It's been one day. The blackness outside hasn't changed and my muffins have probably disintegrated inside the oven. I forced myself to stand up and walk over to the front door. The outside is blackness too. I can't escape. I mean, suddenly the blackness began advancing. Everybody started panicking. Once I ran back over to my oven, it stopped. It looks like it gets worse when I'm not actively baking. It's been two days. I started to feel pain in my stomach and the penguin girl, her name is Karen. She called it hunger. She told me that we bake to cure the hunger. Was it just a contest? It's been three days. Mia, the parrot girl, shoved some of her cake mix into her mouth and said it cured the hunger. The others did the same. I tried to put the burnt remains of my muffins into my mouth, but the pan burned my hand and I had to use the raw flour to do this. I was thinking. And I realized I have no memory from beyond when I woke up three days ago. At least, I think it's been three days. I mean, what happened before that? I've asked the other bakers and they don't seem to have a better memory than I do. Karen asked me about my grandma, when I made the muffin recipe and I actually couldn't say anything. This is getting weird. It's been five days. Mia actually stopped frosting her cookies, screamed, and jumped into the darkness. Karen said that she wanted to do it as well and I'd be lying if I said I didn't consider it. The green feathered girl is beginning to rot. I mean, it seems so obvious now that I think about it. This began with the bake sale and I think it'll end with it too. I wonder if this could have been avoided. Karen says it was predetermined. I asked her what that meant and she said it meant we didn't have a choice in the matter. It's been seven days. We all agreed to walk into the blackness that surrounds us. Goodbye. Document recovered from Universe E4561 shortly before total entropic collapse. Most of document is believed to be the final stages of an unexpectedly aborted SAP 4800 event. Greater context unknown.