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Saparata ran out of food about an hour ago.
He probably could have anticipated this. He’s been on the run for two weeks and counting, and when he left Island 2 he only had half a stack of bread with him. It was easy enough to find food and shelter back then, but the barren wasteland he was forced to flee to does not lend many opportunities to find sustenance.
Maybe he could have stopped by Westhelm and stolen from their food storage after he fled from Turntapp. Saps isn’t sure if that would have been more or less foolish than venturing into the tundra with only the items he had on hand.
He will be fine. He will live. He just needs to find a place to rest.
He will not let Flux win.
The freezing snowflakes slice across Saps’ face, stinging his cheeks with the cold. His worn down boots fight through the snow, his tangled white hair clings to his neck, and he clutches his thin cloak around his shoulders. When he spots a solitary patch of grass among the snow, he immediately runs over to it.
“Gotcha,” he mutters, slipping the seeds he harvests into his inventory. All he needs to do now is force his exhausted arms to hold his pickaxe and mine out a place to rest.
And so he does. The dirt in the side of the small hill he’s found has to go first, of course, before he can start digging a cave. He has almost torn through the last block when he hears a loud whoosh directly behind him.
Saparata whips around, shovel held like a weapon, before he sighs with relief when he sees the figure in front of him.
Just Ish. It’s just Ish. Calm down, Saps.
The head Admin of the server floats a few feet off the ground, perfectly tailored suit as clean as ever. The cold has no effect on him, of course, and the snowflakes vanish right before they touch his form.
“How’s it going, Saps?”
Saps smiles, the kind of exhausted, pained smile he has grown far too used to donning lately. “Could be better.”
Ish chuckles sympathetically. “It’s been a tough few weeks, huh?”
“You can say that again.” Saps takes out his pickaxe, and begins to mine away the stone. “I don’t suppose you have any food on you?”
“Sorry, man,” the Admin says kindly. “You know the rules.”
Saparata wasn’t expecting anything else, but he still sighs. His empty stomach gnaws at his insides.
Ish watches him mine for a few minutes, asking him questions, and occasionally checking his specialized Admin communicator for updates across the server. Saps mines out a small cave, places a few torches against the walls, and sits down on the floor.
“Hey,” he asks Ish, “wanna keep me company for a little while?”
Ish hums, and checks his communicator again. “Well, there’s nothing major happening right now. Sure, why not?”
Saps smiles, despite his exhaustion, and Ish floats through the entrance of the shelter. Saps places a single block of dirt, plants his cluster of seeds, and waits for them to grow. It’s all he can do.
“So,” Ish asks. “What are you going to do now?”
“I-” Saps puts his head between his knees. “I don’t know.”
He hates the way his voice breaks on that last word.
Flux really did win, didn’t he?
There’s no point in resting here, or trying to get food. Maybe he’ll be found, maybe he won’t, but what’s the difference either way?
Ish pats his back sympathetically.
Saps has always liked Ish. He’s extremely kind, always taking the time to talk to his players as if they were equals. Not all Admins would sit in a tiny cave with one of them as they hide from the world.
Saparata tilts his head to look at Ish. “Hey, can I ask you something?”
Ish laughs. “Usually I’m the one asking the questions, but sure, go ahead.”
Saps hesitates for a moment.
“What’s it like being an Admin?”
Ish is clearly not expecting this, and he falters for a moment.
“I’m… not sure I could describe it to a player,” he laughs. “Then again, I have no idea what it’s like to be a player either.”
“It’s awful,” Saps mutters. “You can’t trust anyone.”
“Yeah, well, being an Admin isn’t too great either.” Ish leans back against the stone wall with a sigh. “It’s a loooooot of pressure, that’s for sure.”
“At least you don’t have to worry about freezing to death.”
“Hey, I could freeze to death if I wanted.” Ish makes a few gestures with his hands, and suddenly the only light illuminating him is the torches and he is shivering violently. “Hooooly shit it is cold. I do not envy you.” He returns to his Admin state.
“Ish?”
“Hm?”
“You…” Saps doesn’t know if he should say this. He’s always liked Ish. Maybe it’s the exhaustion and hunger, maybe it’s the stress, maybe it’s the heartbreak, or maybe it’s the vaguely suicidal thoughts taking root in his head. Whatever the reason, though, Saparata feels something inside of him shift.
“You don’t really care about us, do you?”
Ish blinks in surprise. “What makes you say that?”
“I mean…” He shouldn’t be saying this. Players don’t talk to Admins like this. That’s a rule.
He keeps going.
“You can manifest anything. You don’t have to follow rules, you can ban anyone, you know everything that’s going on, you could do anything here. But… you just watch us. No interference or anything.”
“I… wouldn’t say that means I don’t care about you,” Ish says softly. “If I just started giving anyone anything, or making up rules whenever I felt like it, what would happen then?”
“That’s not it, though.” Saps, despite himself, is starting to get frustrated. “It’s not that you don’t interfere because you want to be fair, it’s because you want to see what will happen when you leave us to our own devices.”
“Woah, hey, where’s this coming from?”
But Saparata isn’t done, and something inside of him snaps. “I mean, are we just props for you to watch your story play out with? Do you enjoy watching us kill each other?”
“I don’t enjoy this,” Ish insists. “But I have to be fair. Saps, where is this coming from?”
“Where is this coming from?” Saps repeats hysterically. “I watched the skulls of six of my friends split open under dripstones, and you knew exactly who was responsible! I’m being hunted by an entire island for something you know I didn’t do! And now I’m going to starve or freeze to death, whichever comes first, while I hide in a goddamn hellscape! How is that fair?”
“That’s exactly why it’s fair! I know you’re a smart guy, Saps. You know nothing good will happen if I interfere. What is this really about?”
“You don’t know anything.” Frustrated tears sting at Saps’ charcoal colored eyes. “You have no idea what it’s like to be mortal. If I punched you, right now, my fist would go straight through you. How can you say you know what’s best for us when you don’t even know what it’s like to feel pain?”
“Are you threatening me?” Ish asks this with a slight smile, and humor in his voice. This pisses Saps off even more.
“Of course not,” he grits out. “Despite popular belief, I don’t have a death wish quite yet.”
“Threaten me all you want, I don’t mind.” Ish smiles sympathetically. The sight makes Saps want to send a netherite sword through his face.
Has he ever felt pain? Has he ever had a reason not to smile?
“No…” Saps mutters, realization dawning on him. “No, this isn’t about being fair. If you wanted to be fair, you wouldn’t have made one island poor. This is an experiment.”
“Saps-”
“You do care about us. You care about us like characters in a show. Maybe you don’t want us to die, but you find it entertaining either way.”
Ish is silent for a moment, before he tentatively puts a hand on Saps’ shoulder. “Look, you’re exhausted. You need to rest, and get some food in your stomach. If you want to continue this afterwards, I won’t stop you.”
“Wouldn’t it be nice,” Saps says bitterly. “If I had food. If only there were a certain guy with the power to summon anything he wants in the palm of his hand.”
“Saps.” Ish frowns, finally frowns at him.
Saps feels a strange sense of vindication at this.
“Yeah, yeah,” he mutters. “I get it. I’ll just… wait for the wheat to grow.”
He feels the exhaustion creeping slowly up his bones, taking hold of him like a familiar friend come to drag him into the darkness. Saps doesn’t know if he has much of a reason to fight it anymore.
“Hey, Ish…”
“Mm.”
“It wouldn’t be very interesting… for your main character to die in a hole… would it?” Saps smiles softly, eyes only half open.
“Saps, come on.”
“If he… starved to death… without making any kind of dramatic display…?”
“Saps. Stop this, please. You’re not thinking straight.”
“Why?” His voice takes on a manic quality, angry tears threatening to fall, and he grins. “Why do you care? I thought you weren’t supposed to interfere? I thought that setting us up in impossible situations and watching us die is all you can do?”
Ish is silent. Saps dares a glance over at him (what is wrong with him, how could he talk to an Admin like this, has he gone crazy?) and is met with an indecipherable expression.
“You asked what being an Admin is like,” Ish says eventually. “Do you really want to know?”
Saps glares, but gives a barely perceptible nod.
“Well, it’s hard. Harder than I think you could ever imagine. All the power in the world, but no way to wield it without causing my players pain. I mean, think about it. If you could create any sort of world, what would you make?”
“Pretty obvious, I think.” Saps says. “A world where no one had to fight.”
“And if I were truly all powerful and all knowing, perhaps that would be a vague possibility. But I’m not, and it isn’t. I can create worlds and manifest objects, but I can’t alter the minds of players. I only know what I observe myself.”
“But you can ban people! Surely you could establish some sort of law! No stealing maybe, no killing, no framing the guy you manipulated into friendship for mass murder-”
Ish lets out a shaky laugh. “Believe me, Saps. I’ve tried.”
“And just what in the Nether is that supposed to mean?”
“Let me ask you another question,” the Admin says quietly. “Do you remember when you chose which island you would be a native of?”
“You deliberately avoided telling us that one would be a paradise and one would be a wasteland.”
Ish smiles regretfully. “Well, yes… that was intentional, I will admit. But my real question is this: do you remember what happened before that?”
“Of course,” Saps bites out. “Why wouldn’t I? I was…”
His breathing quickens when his mind goes blank.
“I was…”
He can’t remember. He can’t fucking remember. He was standing on a platform with what he somehow knew was exactly 1000 other players, making a decision he didn’t know at the time would lead to a world war, and he can’t remember anything before that.
How. Howhowhowhowhowhow-
“It’s funny you mentioned the Nether.” Saps barely processes Ish’s quiet voice amongst his spiraling. “That dimension is banned on this server, yet every player still knows of its existence. Have you ever been?”
He can’t remember. He can’t remember he can’t remember he can’t remember-
He must have. He knows what it looks like, he knows what kind of mobs inhabit the fiery dimension, he knows the feeling of soul sand under his boots and freshly harvested nether wart in his hand-
But he doesn’t remember how.
There must have been servers before this. He and his fellow players have only been here a few weeks. What were they doing before? Why can’t he remember?
Why did he not realize before?
Saps finally meets Ish’s gaze, desperation burning behind his exhausted eyes.
“Why?”
And Ish only sighs. “Because that’s just how it is.”
Saps is silent.
“I’ve tried to be the kind of Admin who bans the troublemaking players and summons things for the other ones. You don’t remember, of course, but you were there. Funny you suggested banning players, though. None of you even know what ‘banning’ is, just that it’s slightly less bad than death, and like death, it’s not entirely permanent. You all have the vague concepts of how this world works in your head, though you could never explain what they really mean. I truly wish I understood how it worked…”
Saps doesn’t notice when his hands begin to tremble.
“So yes,” Ish continues. “This server is an experiment. Yes, I designed it so I could see how the events play out. And yes, in some horrible way, I find it intriguing. But I swear to you, on everything I am and everything I’m not, that I care about my players as more than just props.”
Saps doesn’t know if he can process this.
He doesn’t think he wants to process this. He doesn’t want to know anything, and yet he wants to know everything.
He doesn’t want to think.
And so he lets his mind stay blank.
He slowly turns his gaze from Ish to a spot on the floor, keeps his head between his arms and resting on his knees, and says nothing.
The Admin and the player sit like this for a while.
The blizzard howls outside, snow pounding against the hastily sealed off entrance to the little cave. The wheat seeds slowly grow, searching for sunlight they will never see. The torches flicker against the walls.
An urgent sounding ping comes from Ish’s communicator.
He stands up. “I have to go,” he tells Saps. “There’s some fighting in Westhelm.”
Saps is still silent.
“Look, man…” Ish rubs the back of his neck. “I probably shouldn’t have told you all that. It’s just… no one has ever snapped like that on me. I guess the pressure of your situation must have gotten to you. I don’t want you to think that I don’t want to see you happy, but this is so much more complicated than me simply summoning an item in my hand or telling the Island 1 council what I know. If I could change how this universe worked, I swear to you that I would. But I’m not its creator. I’m just one of its Admins. And I’m sorry for everything.”
His form flickers as he starts to teleport.
“I’ll see you soon, Saparata.”
“Wait!”
Ish turns, and his form solidifies before it can fully disappear. Saps digs his nails into palms to stop the violent trembling in his hands, and his voice shakes when he speaks.
“Were me and Flux… ever friends before?”
Ish’s gaze shifts from apologetic to something more pained. The tired, sympathetic, deeply mournful look in his eyes almost makes Saps draw back in shock. It almost looks like pity.
Fuck you. I don’t need your pity.
When Ish finally speaks, he only says one word.
“More.”
The air shifts around him as his form vanishes, and then the only light in the cave is the dying embers of the torches. He is gone, and Saparata is left alone to decide whether he wants to continue living.
Not that it matters.