“Yes, that is true, but their hands are only free while crafting. When they stop, their arms go back to where they are programmed; linked across their chests.”
Looking about the room, Gameknight could see many NPCs standing in front of their benches, not crafting, their arms linked, useless.
“A villager can use their hands only if I enable them for crafting. This is my programming, to make it possible for other NPCs to craft. That is the only time we can use our hands. So you see, we cannot defend ourselves when attacked. We just hide and hope for sunrise.”
“So you want me to fight your battle?” Gameknight asked. “I can’t fight off all those monsters, especially if more are coming.”
“The final battle is coming. The User-that-is-not-a-user must lead us,” Crafter said, loud enough for all in the room to hear him.
The cavern grew completely silent, all crafting ceased. Gameknight could see the NPCs stepping back from their crafting benches, their arms instantly becoming glued to their chests, hands linked at the center so that their sleeves merged into one.
“I can’t do this,” Gameknight complained. “Your villagers probably hate me for what I’ve done in the past, like Digger.”
“The User-that-is-not-a-user must lead us,” Crafter shouted, even louder.
“But how can I do it? I can’t fight off all of these monsters on my own. I’m just one person,” Gameknight said, getting a little frustrated.
“The User-that-is-not-a-user must lead us,” Crafter shouted, now others in the chamber were taking up the battle cry.
Gameknight grew silent, contemplating this puzzle. How could he help these people? But it was impossible. He had to think. As he stood in silence, one of the NPCs started crafting, beating out materials into a minecart. The ringing of the tools resonated within his skull as if it were hammering on him, destroying any ability to think. Frustration building, Gameknight pulled out his pick and sprinted over to the worker. Swinging with all his might, he struck at the crafting bench, breaking it into pieces while the worker was still crafting. As the bench shattered, the worker stepped back, surprised, his hammer still in his hand. His hand . . . the worker had hands. He hadn’t stepped away from the crafting bench, it had been destroyed while he was still crafting.
“His hands!” Gameknight yelled. “He still has hands, look!”
Crafter moved to the worker and looked at him carefully. All eyes in the cavern moved from Gameknight to the newly handed worker. Gameknight stepped forward and tossed the worker his iron sword. The worker dropped the hammer and caught the sword in midair, then held it high overhead, a look of excitement filling his eyes.
Crafter turned back from the worker and looked at Gameknight again, then nodded, the User-that-is-not-a-user nodding back.
“The User-that-is-not-a-user WILL LEAD US,” Crafter shouted, and everyone in the cavern cheered.
CHAPTER 8
SHAWNY
T
he workers went back to their crafting only after each came up to Gameknight and nudged him gently with their shoulders, like a giant full-body high-five.
“So what are all of these people crafting?” Gameknight asked.
“They’re making track for minecarts, wooden beams for supporting tunnels, chests, and items for chests,” Crafter explained. “You ever notice that sometimes you find chests in Minecraft, and there are items inside?”
He nodded.
“Well, that’s one of our jobs, to put items in the chests for the users, but we also equip the jungle temples with items as well as the occasional dungeons found underground. Probably our most important job though is to force the program that rules our Minecraft world to create the world before users get there.”
“What?” Gameknight asked. “I don’t understand.”
Crafter moved to inspect some track that one of the NPCs was making, looking carefully at the pieces that were falling into a minecart, then pushed the cart down the tracks, sending it into a dark tunnel. Then he looked back up at Gameknight999.
“You ever notice how fast the world forms when you move far out away from your spawn point? Well, that’s not just an accident. The world forms quickly because it’s already been created, because we’ve already been there. We have millions of blocks of minecart tracks all throughout this world, placed in underground tunnels that are invisible to users. NPCs called ‘Riders’ use the minecarts to travel to the extents of the world, forcing the software to create new terrain so that it’s ready for the users. This is our main task in Minecraft.”
“Underground tracks?” Gameknight asked. “Why have I never seen these tracks?”
“You have, I bet, but only the portions that we’ve abandoned; those are the sections of track that stopped being invisible to the users. When a section of track becomes visible to users, we quickly remove it from the main system and bypass it. Users find these sections and call them ‘abandoned mines.’ That’s exactly what they are, abandoned tracks that were put there by us. We leave a couple of chests with some items inside to keep users occupied, but the working tracks cannot be seen by users; they are for us.”
Gameknight nodded his head; he’d seen many of these abandoned mines and never gave any thought as to why they were there, why they started from nothing and led to nothing. It all made sense now.
“So you have tracks leading all throughout Minecraft?” he asked.
Crafter nodded, then moved to another station where an NPC was making wooden planks, the nearby minecart nearly filled with stacks of the wood.
“Yes, we do. In fact, our tracks also connect all the villages that are scattered throughout Minecraft,” Crafter explained. “We are in constant communication with them. By now, they all know of our battle and your presence in our village. I’m sure the excitement is growing throughout Minecraft. I only hope that word of you doesn’t reach the mobs. When it does, they will swoop down on us and try to destroy you.”
“The mobs, when do you think they’ll attack next?”
“They’ll probably leave us alone tonight,” Crafter explained as he inspected a cart full of chests. “They usually attack in force every other night, probably waiting for more monsters to move up from a lower server.”
“So we have one day to prepare?”
“That’s right,” Crafter affirmed. “What should we do?”
“First, we need all villagers, all across Minecraft, to have free hands,” Gameknight explained. “You can’t fight if you don’t have hands. Next, we need a battle strategy, and I know just the user to come up with that battle plan, but first, the hands.” Gameknight moved to a small pile of stone and climbed on top. “EVERYONE START CRAFTING!” he yelled.
Gameknight then jumped down and moved to each crafting bench, breaking it to pieces with his pickaxe, hands of the NPCs pulling back from the cloud of splintered wood, staying free for the first time. Each one looked down at their hands in wonder, flexing their little stubby fingers in front of their eyes, each looking up at Gameknight, smiling in gratitude.
“Crafter, send people to the other villages and pass the word, telling them all how to free their hands. Next, we need to start crafting weapons, especially bows and arrows, and we’ll need lots of picks and shovels. Create more crafting benches and get them started.”
Crafter gave commands to those near him, causing some of the NPCs to jump into empty minecarts and take off down the darkened tunnels leading in all directions. As the cavern started filling with the commotion of crafting, picks and swords started to litter the ground.
“Crafter, I must get back to the surface,” Gameknight yelled over the din in the cave. “I need to call in some help.”
“Some help?” Crafter asked.
“I’ll explain when there is time, right now, we’re racing the clock, and if we’re not ready for the next attack, we’ll be destroyed. Come on.”
Gameknight and Crafter ascended the steps and headed back to the room where they’d first met. Gameknight then
sprinted down the long, dark tunnel until he reached the ladder that led to the surface. Climbing quickly, he shot to the surface, Crafter following close behind. Someone above must have heard them coming because the block that sealed the top of the shaft was broken away before they even reached it, the Mayor’s face showing at the top, his blocky head ringed with light. Reaching the top, Gameknight climbed out of the tunnel and stood by the opening.
“I hope you met the Crafter,” the Mayor said, but was then surprised to see the Crafter climb out right after Gameknight. “What’s going on? Crafter, I’ve never seen you on the surface. This is dangerous, you must go back underground.”
“Don’t worry, Mayor, I’ll be OK,” Crafter said.
Two workers came out of the shaft, each holding a crafting bench.
“Free them all,” Gameknight commanded. “All of the villagers must be ready.”
“Ready?” the Mayor asked, “ready for what?”
“For battle,” Crafter said a twinkle in his eye.
“OK, I need somewhere private,” Gameknight said to Crafter and the Mayor.
“Use the back room of this house,” Crafter replied. “I’ll put a door on behind you.”
“Excellent.”
Gameknight moved to the small room attached to the tower house. A wooden door suddenly appeared, sealing him in.
“I hope you’re out there,” Gameknight said to himself. “And I hope I can figure out how to do this.”
Closing his eyes, Gameknight999 imagined he was sitting in front of his computer in the basement, his wireless keyboard in front of him, wireless gaming mouse in his right hand. Keeping his eyes shut, he concentrated on his hands, not the blocky ones at the end of his Minecraft arms, but his real hands in the physical world. Slowly, he imagined himself moving his fingers to his keyboard, and then, with all of his concentration focused on his hands. He imagined himself typing.
Shawny, teleport to me.
He waited . . . nothing.
Driving his mind harder, he tried to form the letters in his brain, but imagined them flowing outward across Minecraft, the text floating across computer screens.
Shawny, teleport to me.
Still nothing.
Reaching deep within himself, Gameknight drew on all his strength, forming his will and the very fabric of his soul into a beacon of thought, radiating outward in all directions. He pushed with every fiber of his being, feeling his HP decrease a little with the effort.
SHAWNY, TP TO ME.
Nothing . . . just silence, thundering silence . . . but then. . .
OK.
A shimmering wave of light started to form before his eyes, and then suddenly, he was there—his friend, Shawny, blocky letters floating over his head, a long silvery thread stretching up and disappearing into the ceiling.
“Hi, Gameknight, I’ve been looking for you,” Shawny said.
He was wearing his favorite skin, one that looked like a red and black ninja warrior, with bright red stripes down his arms and a black mask across his face. A blood-red pattern was painted across his chest, making it look as if he’d just been in battle and the blood of his fallen enemy was splashed across his shirt and back.
Gameknight gave a gigantic sigh of relief.
“What?”
“Thank you for coming,” Gameknight said as he reached out with a blocky hand and rested it on his friend’s shoulder. “I’m in a bit of a situation here.”
“I can imagine,” Shawny explained. “People are really pissed about that team PvP game you trolled. Some are saying that they’re going to ban you from their servers.”
“That doesn’t matter right now,” Gameknight snapped. “We’re all in danger. All of Minecraft is in danger.”
“What are you talking about?”
“You remember my father’s latest invention?”
“That digital . . . thingy.”
“Right, his digitizer,” Gameknight explained. “Well, I got shot by it and now I’m actually in Minecraft, not just logged in, but actually inside the game.”
“Huh?”
“Shawny, I can feel every hit, hear every animal when they’re killed, I can even feel the plants and walls and people with my hands. I’m living inside the game.”
“That’s impossible,” Shawny objected. “You can’t be inside the game.”
“I thought the same thing, but the pain I feel when I get hit is real, the XP feels real when I pick it up, the sun feels warm on my skin . . . it all feels real, especially the fear when I face monsters.”
“So just log off, let yourself get killed so that you can respawn or get kicked off the server.”
“It doesn’t seem to work that way,” Gameknight said as he moved to one of the windows and looked outside. He could see villagers lining up in front of a crafting bench, getting their hands freed by one of the workers from the cavern below. “I don’t know what will happen if I get killed, maybe I’ll respawn, maybe I’ll get kicked from the server . . . or maybe I’ll really die. I’m not sure, and I’m afraid to find out.”
“Then I’ll just go to your house and turn off your computer,” Shawny said, his voice now filling with apprehension, the truth of his words sinking in.
“There’s no time,” Gameknight snapped. “The digitizer is still powered on. If the mobs here overwhelm this server and get to the next server plane, and the next and the next . . . if they reach the Source and destroy that, then they’ll cross over into our world, the physical world.”
“What?”
Gameknight explained what Crafter had told him, about the server planes, and the Source, and the danger to their world. His friend didn’t believe him, didn’t believe any of his story.
“Come, let me prove it to you,” Gameknight said sternly.
Throwing open the door he led his friend out of the building and into the center of the village. Panic erupted as soon as the villagers saw Shawny, everyone running in random directions at once, many taking shelter within their homes. Only Crafter and the Mayor remained.
“Here, this is the Mayor,” Gameknight explained. “He runs the village and is responsible for their safety. Mayor, this is my friend, probably my only friend, Shawny. Say hello.”
The Mayor stood there, silent, his arms still folded across his chest. They were clearly still connected, his bright eyes gleaming in the sunlight.
“And this is the Crafter. He lives underground and directs the villager’s crafting efforts. They make items for . . .”
“Villagers don’t craft,” Shawny interrupted. “Everyone knows that.”
“You don’t see them crafting, but they do. Crafter, Mayor, say something—anything.”
The two NPCs stood silent, their unibrows forming a furled line over their concerned eyes.
“SAY SOMETHING!!!” Gameknight screamed. “Shawny here is your only hope. He is a master strategist and builder. He can help us fortify your village—no, all of the villages. He can stop the slaughter that is coming.” Turning to the Mayor, he continued. “Mayor, if you want to protect your village, then you must talk with Shawny or all is lost.”
Silence.
“This is your last chance,” he chided. “If you don’t speak to him, then I can’t help you. I’ll have to leave and try to find my way back to my world without helping any of you.”
Villagers were starting to come out of their homes to listen, their fear of the new user having subsided, a little.
“Well?” Gameknight said to the Mayor, to everyone. “Then you leave me no choice. Come on Shawny, let’s leave.”
“It’s forbidden,” squeaked a young voice from the crowd.
“What was that?” Shawny asked.
“It’s forbidden for us to talk to users,” said the voice, a small girl standing behind her father, her young face peering from behind his legs.
“She spoke?” Shawny said, astonished.
“Quiet, daughter,” her father said sternly. “This is for the Crafter and the Mayor, not a
farmer’s daughter.”
“But, father, the User-that-is-not-a-user is going to leave. We can’t let him, or we’ll all die.”
A murmur swept through the crowd, the villagers taking a step closer, concern on their faces.
“Well?” Gameknight said to his friend.
“Perhaps some rules should be broken every now and then,” Crafter said to the Mayor, his long grey hair flowing in the breeze that blew across the plain.
The Mayor nodded.
“And Gameknight999 has lots of experience with breaking rules, don’t you?” Shawny said with a smile.
“Well . . .”
“Everything your friend here told you was the truth,” the Mayor said sternly. “We aren’t supposed to talk to users, but these are extreme days, and I fear night will fall on our world forever without your help. Please help us.”
Shawny considered everything that he’d heard, and pondered. This was just a game, not real. How could it be real?
“I know what you’re thinking,” Gameknight said, “because I thought the same thing, too, but it’s not a game to them, it’s their lives. They believe in their own existence, their lives, their hopes and dreams. They mourn when a loved one dies,” he saw Digger in the crowd and looked away quickly, “and they feel pain and fear, just like us. Their world is one of bits, electronic signals pulsing through circuits and chips, but it’s still real, and we have to help them. If we don’t, then it may be our world in danger next. We have to draw the line, stand, and fight. Are you with us?”
Shawny looked at Gameknight, then scanned the crowd of villagers. He could see the fear on their faces, fathers and mothers putting newly freed arms around their children, probably for the first time. Turning, he looked at the Crafter, the old face wrinkled with age and wisdom, and then he looked down at the brave little girl who had spoken up. Her eyes were bright with courage, her face looking up at his. How could he refuse?
“I’m in,” he said loud enough for all to hear.
And the village erupted with cheers.
“Here’s what we have to do,” Shawny said in a loud voice so that Gameknight, Crafter, and the Mayor could hear, and he explained his plan.
Invasion of the Overworld Page 8
