This week, such a decision could no longer be delayed. Plant #5 — The Red One — has departed the garden. She is eliminated. For many weeks, it remained the strangest of the chosen. Its curious mutations, pale foliage, and impossible floral formations made it a source of endless fascination. It never resembled its sisters truly. Following the great heat wave, something within the organism changed. Its thirst vanished. While the others continued to draw deeply from the soil each day, Plant #5 scarcely drank at all. The once-promising aroma faded into silence, leaving behind only a faint memory of the sweet diesel whispers that had once filled the chamber. Even the resin told its own story. Compared to its companions, the trichomes lagged behind, as though time itself had slowed within its flowers. The final transformation never truly began. The garden had spoken. The decision was not made in disappointment, but in understanding. As the remaining giants expanded, the chamber demanded more air, more space, and greater circulation to protect the swelling flowers from the unseen dangers that thrive in stagnant warmth. Every branch mattered. Every current of moving air became sacred. There was no longer room for hesitation. So The Red One was returned to the darkness. Now only two remain. Plant #1 — The Fat One — continues to swell with astonishing determination, its colossal colas growing denser by the day beneath a shimmering coat of resin. The fragrance has become richer still, an intoxicating union of ripe fruit, pungent gas, and strange chemical notes that linger long after the chamber is closed. Beside it stands Plant #2 — The Battered One — unwavering and formidable. Towering over the garden with its dense architecture and unmistakable diesel perfume, it has become a monument to resilience, its flowers stacking relentlessly as the harvest draws near. The chamber feels different now. Quieter. More focused. The remaining two have inherited the space once occupied by their fallen companion, allowing fresh currents of air to move freely through the canopy. Light reaches deeper. The flowers breathe more easily.