Saving Crafter, page 3
“But after the Last Battle, we trapped him in the body of a pig. He’s still trapped, right?”
Crafter nodded his head.
“The NPCs built a gigantic monument over the spot,” Crafter explained. “Tons of stone and dirt have been piled up on top of the cell that Digger made to trap the Herobrine-pig. You can be certain he is still trapped, but that tiny pig-body must not be strong enough to hold all the evil the fills Herobrine’s soul.”
Crafter struggled to sit up. Reaching out, Gameknight helped his friend so he could sit on the edge of the bed. The effort nearly sapped the last ounce of the NPC’s strength.
“The evil is leaking out … and getting stronger.” Crafter said, his voice weak. “If we don’t do something, permanently, then Herobrine’s evil will destroy the land.”
“But how can we destroy him?” Gameknight asked. “If anyone kills that pig, they’ll be infected by Herobrine’s XP and then he will be loose again. It’s not as easy as just killing him.”
Crafter took a deep and strained breath, then laid back down.
“Regardless … we need a more permanent solution to our problem,” Crafter explained, his voice now just a whisper. “There is only one location where Herobrine could be put. It is a terrible place, filled with danger, but it is the only spot where this monster can no longer hurt anyone or anything in Minecraft.”
“Where, Crafter … where?”
His friend closed his eyes for a moment and took another pained breath, then opened them again. He turned his dull blue eyes toward Gameknight999 and sighed.
“I’m sorry to ask this of you, but we need the User-that-is-not-a-user. The villagers cannot do this alone without it being a suicide mission. I know there are those in the village who would gladly give their lives for me and for Minecraft, but I fear that their success without the User-that-is-not-a-user would be unlikely.”
Gameknight moved closer to his friend.
“You know that I would do anything for you,” Gameknight999 said in a low voice.
Crafter tried to smile, but all he ended up with was a sneer.
“It must be a small group of warriors, for a large group would draw the attention of the monster kings created by Herobrine,” Crafter explained. “When they realize that Herobrine is still alive, the monsters of the Overworld will stop at nothing to rescue their Maker.”
“I understand, but tell me, where can we take him so that Herobrine will be destroyed?”
Crafter took another strained breath, then spoke, his voice even fainter. “You must take him to … to …”
And then he passed out.
“Crafter … CRAFTER!”
Gameknight placed his head on his chest to check if he still had a heart beat, but then he realized that he didn’t even know if NPCs had hearts. Standing, he looked down on his friend. Crafter’s skin had faded back to the sickly bone white. Glancing to the chest next to the bed, Gameknight considered giving him another potion of healing, but he was afraid that the potions might overtax his body. Maybe he just needed sleep.
“You rest for now, Crafter,” Gameknight said. “Don’t worry, the User-that-is-not-a-user will take care of you.”
Pulling out his pickaxe, Gameknight dug through the cobblestone wall that separated him from the rest of the crafting chamber. When he had finished, he found Hunter, Stitcher, and Digger standing next to his father. They all had scared looks on their boxy faces. But now, Gameknight was no longer afraid; he was angry, enraged. Herobrine was hurting his friend and he would stop at nothing to keep him safe.
“Dad, we have to go,” Gameknight said, his voice filled with confidence and strength.
“What?” Monkeypants said, confused. “We just got here.”
“Things have changed, and it’s time to stop playing this as a game,” he said. “Please disconnect. I’ll talk with you shortly.”
His father shrugged his shoulders and paused for a moment. Suddenly, his body disappeared, streaking up his server thread, yanked from the digital universe by the sparkling beam of light.
Gameknight faced his NPC friends.
“I’ll be back soon,” Gameknight said. “Get prepared, we’re going for a little trip. The only problem is that I don’t know where we have to go.”
Hunter looked at Gameknight, then rolled her rectangular eyes and smiled.
“We’re going to need weapons, armor, food, horses, lots of healing potions, and of course lots and lots of TNT.”
Digger nodded his head and then spun and moved toward the NPCs in the crafting chamber.
“We must hurry, for I don’t know how long Crafter can last. Do you understand?”
They all nodded their square heads.
“Look for me at the village gates,” he said, but before they could even move, he disappeared, streaking up his own server thread, his Minecraft game disconnected.
CHAPTER 5
THE DECISION
Tommy took his headphones off and turned to face his father.
“What just happened?” his father asked as he pushed back from his keyboard and stood.
Standing next to the tall lamp in the corner, his father’s gray curly hair almost glowed silver. His salt and pepper beard, mostly salt, framed his face and gave him a look of ancient wisdom.
“Why did we need to quit Minecraft so quickly?” he asked his son.
“Dad, they’re in trouble and they need help,” Tommy explained.
He glanced at the digitizer that stood in the corner of the basement and brought his eyes back to his father.
“Oh, no. You aren’t doing that again.”
“You saw how sick Crafter was. He’s going to die!” Tommy exclaimed.
“Crafter’s going to die?” said a voice from the basement stairs.
Glancing toward the entrance, Tommy saw his sister, Jenny, was coming down the stairs. Her long brown hair, tied in a ponytail, bounced around her shoulders as she hopped from one stair to the next. When she reached the bottom, she bolted toward her brother.
“What’s wrong with Crafter? Is he OK? How are Stitcher and Hunter?” she asked.
“Hold on,” Tommy said, raising his hand up to stop the barrage of questions. “They are all OK except for Crafter. He’s really sick.”
“Sick … I didn’t know that NPCs get sick,” Jenny said.
“They don’t,” he answered and turned to face his father. “You see, the last time we were in the game, we kinda fought a war.”
“A war?” their father asked.
“It was an awesome war, Daddy,” Jenny said. “You should have seen it. There were spiders and zombies and skeletons and—”
“Jenny, you aren’t helping,” Tommy interrupted. “Just let me finish explaining to Dad.”
His sister grew quiet and sat in one of the chairs next to the desk.
“So, I was saying … We fought a war because there is a virus in the game that has come alive, just like all the NPCs,” Gameknight explained.
“They aren’t alive; they’re just programs,” his father said.
“They used to be programs, but something happened and they all became sentient,” Gameknight said. “They know they’re alive. They have hopes and fears…. They love their children and want them to grow up big and strong, just like you and Mom. No one really knows what happened, but the fact is, they’re alive and they’re my friends.”
Tommy stopped and waited for his words to sink in before continuing.
“But there’s a virus trapped in the servers named Herobrine. He wants to escape Minecraft and destroy everything on the Internet. Jenny and I defeated him in the Last Battle and imprisoned him, but his evil is leaking into the fabric of Minecraft and slowly poisoning it. And the first target of his poison is Crafter.”
“Crafter?” Jenny said, her face filled with concern.
Tommy nodded.
“Dad, if we don’t help him, Crafter is going to die,” Gameknight explained. “And then Herobrine’s evil will spread until he kills all the NPCs in Minecraft. I have to go. If I don’t, then they’re all going to die.”
His father considered Tommy’s words, then crossed the cluttered basement floor to the digitizer. He looked down at his invention, then back to his son.
“I didn’t invent the digitizer so that you could go risking your life in Minecraft,” his father said.
“I know,” Tommy answered. “But if you hadn’t invented the digitizer, you would have never met living creatures within Minecraft.”
“I still don’t believe that they are alive,” his father said. “Just because they move like they are alive doesn’t mean they are actually alive. They could be programmed for these motions…. It could mean nothing. They’re just software; they aren’t alive.”
“They are, Dad,” Jenny added. “My best friend is Stitcher. She’s Hunter’s sister. She and I …”
“I know who she is,” her father said. “I met her briefly.”
“You didn’t really meet her,” Jenny added. “You were a user, so she couldn’t talk to you. If you were in the game, then you’d really know who she was and learn that she is alive like you and me.”
“I still don’t believe it,” their dad said. “Programs can be made to mimic human emotions and reactions. That doesn’t mean that those programs are alive.”
“You’re right, but the NPCs in Minecraft can feel, see, smell, taste, and hear. They are self-aware and know they exist, but also know that they can cease to exist. They understand death and are afraid of it, but are also willing to sacrifice themselves for ideals like freedom or right versus wrong. These NPCs are every bit as alive as you and I and deserve that same right that we have … to live.
“You taught me something about life when we read Arthur C. Clarke’s book, 2010: Odyssey Two. The book said, ‘Whether we are based on carbon or silicon makes no fundamental difference. We should each be treated with appropriate respect.’ You taught me that the book was about respecting life, even if it looks different than you. Well, here’s life that is different than you. It’s digital instead of physical and it lives within computer chips instead of in houses. But it’s life nonetheless, and it deserves respect and the chance to live.
“You told me that we should do the right thing, no matter how hard it is.” He took a step closer to his dad, Jenny at his side. She reached out and took his hand, their fingers intertwined. He looked down at his sister and smiled and then looked up at their father. “This is the right thing to do, even though it’s hard.” He paused as he moved his head close to his father’s ear, then whispered, “Do you really mean what you teach us, or is it just a bunch of words?”
Their father looked down at his two children and Tommy could see a wry smile peek out from behind his gray beard.
“If we’re going to do this, then we’re going to do it right,” his father said.
“What do you mean we?”
“You aren’t going in there alone…. I’m going with you.”
“But Dad, you don’t know anything about Minecraft,” Tommy complained.
“Then you’ll have to teach me really quick, won’t you?”
Tommy sighed and rolled his eyes.
“This is the right thing to do, son,” his father said, “but you aren’t going in there without me. So if it’s too hard to have me with you, then you can forget it and just quit.”
“Never!”
“Then let’s get ready,” his father said. “We need to eat some food and put on some warm clothes. It gets cold in the basement and we have to keep our bodies protected.”
“I’ll go get my favorite Minecraft sweatshirt,” Jenny said as she hopped up and down, unable to contain her excitement.
“Hold on, Jenny,” her father said. “You aren’t going into the game.”
“I’m not?”
She was instantly visibly disappointed.
“No, you’re going to stay here and watch over the digitizer,” their father explained. “We might need your help, so you need to be here in the basement keeping an eye on us.”
“But …”
“Jenny, last time we had Shawny watching over us, remember?” Tommy said.
His sister nodded her head.
“Well, we need you here at the computer watching out for us. You can warn us of traps or put things in our chest for us if we need something,” Tommy explained. “Dad and I are counting on you to keep us safe. It’s a big responsibility. Are you sure you can do it?”
Hearing that it was important, Jenny smiled as her eyes brightened.
“Yeah … yeah, I can do it!” she replied.
“And don’t worry, Jenny,” her brother said. “I’ll tell Stitcher that you couldn’t come with us this time. I’m sure she’ll understand.”
“OK …” she conceded. “But make sure you tell her.”
“I will,” Tommy replied. “I promise—now let’s get ready.”
He turned and stared at the digitizer, and a familiar feeling of dread filled his body. He didn’t really want to go back into Minecraft and face off against zombies and skeletons for real, but he couldn’t let his friends down.
“Don’t worry, Crafter, I’m coming for you, and I won’t let you down … not now and not ever!”
He headed upstairs to prepare.
CHAPTER 6
XA-TUL
The king of the zombies, Xa-Tul, stormed about through zombie-town, anger and rage filling his mind. His chainmail clicked and jingled as he walked, filling the air with delicate sounds that were almost beautiful, except for the growling moans of the nearby monsters. The huge zombie’s generals surrounded and followed their liege, but at a safe distance. When Xa-Tul was enraged, it was never a good idea to be within arm’s reach, and these days he was always enraged.
“It is still unbelievable that the Maker, Herobrine, was destroyed by that pathetic User-that-is-not-a-user, Gameknight999.” He growled, then balled his clawed hand into a fist and punched the dirt wall of a zombie house. The block shattered, throwing small cubes of dirt in all directions. “The greatest insult was to capture the Maker in that tiny little pig body first. Xa-Tul is certain that the NPCs have destroyed Herobrine by now and he is gone forever.”
He growled again and let out a sorrowful wail that echoed throughout the massive cavern that housed this zombie-town.
“But the Maker will still be avenged, is that not right, generals?” The big zombie stopped and turned to face his commanders. “What news is there?”
Most of the generals stepped back, all except for the newest of the leaders, who foolishly stood his ground. Xa-Tul’s glowing red eyes fell on this zombie, then took a step closer.
“Su-Kil, tell me … what has been learned about the NPCs responsible for the death of the Maker?” Xa-tul asked.
“Scouts have recently reported that their village has been found,” Su-Kil said proudly. “My warriors are harassing the village.”
The other generals cringed and took another step back.
“What did Su-Kil say?” Xa-Tul asked, his anger bubbling near the surface.
“Ahh … Su-Kil meant to say Xa-Tul’s forces are near the village and are attacking in the name of the king of the zombies.” Su-Kil quickly directed his eyes to the ground and hoped that Xa-Tul would be merciful.
Xa-Tul looked down on the smaller zombie. He could see countless scars across Su-Kil’s arms and face; they were from his battle training when he was younger. Zombies took pride in their scars, for it showed others how much pain they could take and what they could endure for their zombie-town. This one had a long scar that ran across his forehead and down along the right side of his face, the jagged scar going across his eye. Its appearance was fearsome, and Su-Kil was proud of it.
Xa-Tul nodded his massive head, took a quick step forward, and slapped his clawed hand on the commander’s shoulder.
“Su-Kil did well,” Xa-Tul said in his grumbly voice. “A promotion is deserved. From now on, Su-Kil will be addressed as Ur-Kil.”
“But …” one of the other zombies objected, which drew the king’s angry attention.
“Does Ut-Ban have something to add?” Xa-Tul asked the complaining zombie.
Ut-Ban shook his green head.
“Perhaps Ut-Ban was promoted too soon,” the king of the zombies said. “Now, Ut-Ban will be called Su-Ban until the zombie’s actions match the title.”
“Thank you … sire,” the newly demoted Su-Ban said, bowing his head.
“The zombie army will come together and move against this village,” the zombie king commanded.
“Xa-Tul, the village’s defenses are formidable,” Ur-Kil said. “The walls are tall and the archer towers many. Zombies may not be enough to breach the defenses.”
Xa-Tul flashed a dangerous stare at the general.
“Perhaps the skeletons will help?” one of the other generals asked.
“The skeletons cower in their tunnels, afraid to be seen,” Xa-Tul explained. “The defeat of the Maker has robbed the skeletons of the little courage they had before Herobrine crafted their new king, Reaper. The skeletons will not help the zombies, but perhaps the—”
Suddenly, a commotion drew the zombie king’s attention. Turning, he strode toward the blocky steps that led up to a dark tunnel. As he ascended the steps, Xa-Tul paused beneath the sparkling green HP fountain. For just an instant, he let the delicious HP splash across his back, nourishing his body. Feeling stronger, the zombie king continued. When he reached the dark tunnel, he found a zombie barely alive being carried by two of the tunnel guards.
“What is this?” Xa-Tul demanded.
“This zombie said there is critical information that is fit only for the ears of the zombie king,” one of the guards grumbled. “The zombie would not tell anyone else.”
“Hmm,” Xa-Tul mused.
