What just happened?

Steven picked himself out of the rubble of his crash pod, which was now reduced to scrap. This definitely did not look like his ship.

A few moments ago, he was enjoying a nice nap on one of the plush sofas in the lounge of the Enterprise, a wayward space ship. Now, he was a survivor of either a sudden disaster or a sudden disposal. Things could've been better.

He checked himself for any wounds. Luckily, he had arrived perfectly unscathed, and his cloth pants and hoodie hadn't gotten ripped either. He looked around the landscape, only to find mountains and trees, rivers and ruins, and animals and vegetation. This place isn't too bad! But that's the issue.

Steven knelt onto the floor and began picking at the dirt. He thought about this before, and it would be disastrous if it were true. Was it true? Finally he dug into a light-ish green sediment, exactly what he feared. Steven stood up and looked around again.

This was bad, Steven thought. Based on that sediment alone, not only does this planet have toxic fog, it's sporadic, so I don't even know when the next fallout happens! Aghhh why did I have to land here?

Right, let's rationalize, he thought. Before the storm hits I'm going to need food, water, and a place to live. He looked up. Big, looming storm clouds were forming in the distant skies. That's a bad sign. 

Steven lugged the metal scrap of his cargo pod over down to some nearby ruins. It wasn't much, but it was temporary and structurally sound. There was a small pond with some vegetation growing around it, so all the necessary stuff was completed. He looked closer at the pond and instinctively cringed away. The pond was all muddy and filled with frogs and bugs, definitely not suitable for drinking. If he wanted to get fresh water, he had to go find some.

He looked at his temporary shelter, a crumbling ruin and his ruined cargo pod, essentially just rocks and scrap metal. If he really wanted to survive, he had to make a pile of rocks a home. Steven walked around the ruin's edges, finding more stone bricks and some furniture. After lugging the stone tables into his crumbling abode did he really begin to work. Steven picked up some handfuls of mud and stuffed it into the cracks of the buildings, which was better than nothing. To expand the walls, he used the leftover stray bricks and more mud to reconstruct the walls, and eventually the roof.

Steven looked at his masterpiece, a hodge-podge mess of mud, bricks, and stray stone columns supporting it all. The room was no bigger than a small bedroom, only half that size. There was probably still plenty of room for storage and furniture. He didn't have a bed, so he decided he'd sleep on the stone table. 

He was exhausted. He didn't want to do anymore, he just wanted to lay down and rest. But he couldn't. If I want to survive, I need to keep going and not give up, he thought.

Steven went over to the pond, the disgusting, muddy, bug-ridden pond. He wasn't looking for water, he was looking for something he saw earlier, something that would sustain him... Onions! Just what he thought he saw. He pulled them out of the mud, their bulbous roots shining in the sun. There were plenty of onions, he must've gotten about thirty of them! Still, they were onions, it wouldn't last him very long. He peered around the plains, only to find more food! There were apples, oranges, bananas, wheat, corn, cabbages, all sorts of food growing wildly all over the landscape! Was this a dream? Or was he on someone else's farm?

He wiped his eyes. No, these were definitely wild plants, so why were they growing here? He shrugged and ran off to pick nature's bounty. 

It was a few hours after the great harvesting spree. Steven knew he was a food enthusiast. Everyone on the ship knew he was a food enthusiast, but now everyone was either gone or dead. He sighed. He didn't want to think about it. Although he had been with his crew for a long time, they were mere acquaintances, so he wasn't that heartbroken. Whatever, he thought, it's getting late. I'll just bring the stuff in.

He went inside his small stone hut, laid all his goods onto the hard stone floor, and lit a fire. It was a whimsical moment, a moment that reminded him of the time he and a bunch of his crew mates went camping. They sat around the fire and told stories, and they'd sing and play cards. Nope! Definitely not sad at all! Definitely not... A tear rolled down his cheek.

Steven picked up an onion and sliced it up, before putting it on a stick to roast. It was getting darker, and the darkness was more noticeable. It was painfully noticeable. He wasn't always the best loner, and when he wasn't, he really depended on someone else. Thinking about it just made him more depressed. He chewed his onion kebab, the caramelized sweetness warming him from the inside. He got up, and laid down onto the stone table. It was a quiet night, with the sounds of some sort of bug chirping in the distance. He closed his eyes, and fell asleep.

The fire remained lit.