In a post-collapse future, humanity lives inside carefully controlled zones, segmented, monitored, and preserved. They do not remember Earth. That forgetting was by design. Observer 6:3:1, a non-human intelligence assigned to monitor the human remnants, has never interfered. It records quietly, unseen. Until a red-haired child looks up and speaks a name that was never given. She calls him Hummie. What begins as an anomaly becomes a quiet unraveling. One child's awareness sparks echoes in a system designed to suppress emotion, memory, and connection. As the boundaries between observer and observed begin to blur, so does the fragile illusion of order. She Called Me Hummie is a haunting, lyrical exploration of control, memory, and the unexpected power of being seen. Part speculative fiction, part poetic elegy, it asks: what does it mean to awaken when you were never meant to feel at all?