Minecraft: The Island

by Max Brooks

  As the blue surge subsided, I gawked at the material it revealed. These were smooth black stones that I’m creatively calling “blackstone.” I think by this point, we’ve established that I wasn’t a geologist back home. Whatever their real name was, these rocks were beautiful to look at, and just for the sake of a souvenir, I tried to mine up a block. And trying was as far as I got, because my pickaxe’s iron blade was about as effective as my bare hands had been against standard stone.

  “Well, you ain’t goin’ nowhere.” I shrugged at the shiny black surface, then froze when it answered with a “Guhhh.”

  I snapped to attention, sword and shield at the ready. Of course the blackstone hadn’t groaned back at me. Something else, something stinky and very familiar, was somewhere down here with me.

  I spun in a full circle. All was clear. Nothing by the light of the lava lake. “Guhhh,” echoed another groan. Was Mr. Deadhead behind a rock wall? Or…

  I crept over to the edge of the lava lake, trying to see if I could find him on the other side. Big mistake. Peering across the roiling soup, I heard an omnidirectional “oomph.”

  I thought I was being careful. At two blocks away, it’s not like I was actually at the edge. No chance of accidentally falling in, right?

  “Grahhh,” came a snarling growl, then…

  BANG!

  Festering fists bashed me in the back, throwing me forward and toppling me into the lava.

  All I could see was red, breathing it in, choking on liquid fire. It is an indescribable nightmare, the feeling of burning alive. First came the shock of adrenaline, then the worst pain I’d ever felt. I’d been beaten, I’d been bitten, I’d even been partially blown up, and yet, all that suffering could not hold a burning candle to boiling in molten rock. Imagine every cell across your body, every nerve ending, every sensor capable of feeling suddenly rising in one wailing chorus of hell.

  And yet, it was the total immersion—the complete, body-wide attack on my system—that ended up saving my life. As the pain receptors under my skin literally burned away, I was left with one numb nanosecond to move. And move I did!

  As the flames licked up before my blinded, sizzling eyes, I swam with all my might for the blackstone bank. I don’t know when I climbed out of the scalding stew, or if I continued to burn on land. Whatever was left of my rational mind locked on to the memory of the waterfall. Stumbling…fumbling…

  Mercy! I was bathed in soothing, quenching salvation.

  BANG!

  Rotting fists stabbed right through the water, knocking me back toward the flames. I swung wildly, eyes just beginning to hyper-heal. They caught a flash of rotting green. Protector swung, the impact of flesh and bone vibrating up through the blade.

  Sight and mind cleared in time for me to see the reeling zombie and to realize that, by sheer luck, its back, not mine, faced the roiling lake. On instinct, I charged, smashing my shield into its body.

  “Gugh,” growled the ghoul as I dug in my heels, ground slowly forward, and pushed it into the incinerating sea.

  If only I could have celebrated, or just watched it burn, or done anything, anything in the world except teeter backward as regenerating pain receptors swamped my brain. Grunts. Screams. Howls. I threw myself back into the waterfall for the briefest shred of relief. All I got was the sense memory of drowning.

  Eat!

  Wolfing down fish and bread, I could feel my body reform. And just as my physical nerves were putting themselves back together, my mental nerves fell apart.

  Never again! I swore, fleeing for the safety of the tunnel. Never go underground for any reason again!

  Stripped of my courage, traumatized to the core, I made it halfway up the stairs before another “Guhhh” stopped me cold.

  They’re waiting for me! I thought, sword shaking like grass in the wind. They’re everywhere!

  And then the voice came, not from my ears but from my head.

  “Moo.”

  That calming, doofy call floated in through my memories. Somewhere above me was a pal who’d stuck with me through all my trials and triumphs. What would she, and my sheep friends, have to say about surrendering to fear?

  Courage is a full-time job.

  Nerves returning, sword straightening, I ascended the rest of the stairs. And saw, for the first time, that the cliff walls around me were practically riddled with tunnels. I’d been so preoccupied with the size of the canyon, so entranced with the awesome spectacle of lava, that I never noticed these mundane but nearly fatal openings. In fact, the zombie I’d just heard was growling at me from another cave opening across from mine.

  “So that’s where your friend came from,” I said. Looking down, I could see another hole, just above the waterfall and just big enough for one of those reekers to slouch through.

  “That’s what that ‘oof’ sound was,” I continued to the other ghoul, “him hitting the ground just before he pushed me in.”

  “Uhhh,” moaned the monster as I shook my head with shame.

  “At least I’ve learned something,” I said with a sigh, “and now it’s burned into my brain, so to speak. Always, always be aware of your surroundings.”

  Standing on the edge of the cliff, feeling my courage and confidence return, I called out, “Not leaving yet, ya hear me? I’m just getting started down here!”

  “Uhhh,” moaned the zombie, prompting me to wave.

  “C’mon over,” I taunted, hoping to entice it into a death fall. “Come and get me.”

  I tried some more waving, some more coaxing, I think I even tried dancing, anything to trick it into taking one more step over the side. The ghoul just groaned a couple more times, then disappeared into the dark recess of its tunnel.

  “Of course,” I said with a sarcastic shrug, “the one time one of you mobile meatloafs does something smart.”

  With the mindset of a vigilant hunter instead of an awestruck tourist, I made a mental note of every cave and shadow and possible enemy hiding place. I also noted every mineral deposit, every seam of coal and iron and…

  Is that iron?

  I squinted at the bottom of the canyon, right next to the lava lake, at a collection of metal-flecked rocks. They had to be iron—what else could they be?—but their color seemed just a shade lighter than the orange ore I was used to.

  Situational awareness, I told myself, venturing back down the stairs. That’s the official term, isn’t it? Be aware of my surroundings. Reopening the entrance to the canyon floor, my eyes flicked frantically in all directions. Likewise my ears scanned for any sound beyond the bubbling of the lake.

  I stepped gingerly across the blackstone, shivering at the heat radiating up through my feet. One false step, one missed mob…

  Stopping well away from the edge, I strategized how best to get to the other side. Option one meant tunneling around, which meant possibly breaking through into more lava. Option two meant placing cobblestone along the side to create a walkway, which meant possibly falling or once again, being pushed in.

  Do I risk it? Is it worth it?

  If I hadn’t been so busy shuddering at either of these scenarios, if I hadn’t been so traumatized by nearly being killed ten minutes ago, I probably would have come to option three a lot sooner. Standing on the blackstone, with water behind me and lava in front, I realized the solution.

  “Water cools lava!” I cried, eyes darting from one to the other. “Just throw water on it!” I turned and started back for the tunnel entrance, then stopped with a shake of my head. “Why go back when I’ve got everything I need right here?”

  Placing a new crafting table on the blackstone, I started to make a furnace, then jumped back as the crafting table promptly burst into flames. “Okay,” I said, as the table puffed into smoke. “Blackstone transmits heat. Thanks for that tidbit, world.”

  Laying down a new layer of cobblestone—which, by the way, was a lot easier on my slowly baking feet—I soon had my ingots smelting.

  I then built a cobbl
estone staircase right up to the base of the waterfall and filled my new bucket, then poured the liquid on the farthest blackstone block.

  It worked exactly as planned. The canyon around me darkened as lava cooled to shiny solidified midnight. Well, I reassured myself, at least something good came from washing away my garden that time.

  Scooping up the water, I repeated the process two more times, then walked out onto a warm but solid surface. “Let’s see,” I began, trotting over to the new, mysterious ore. “What are you?”

  Placing a torch on the wall, I gasped. “GOLD!”

  The word glittered as brightly as the bounty before my eyes. Back in my world, it was the purest symbol of wealth. People wore it, hoarded it, killed for it. A plethora of terms were as embedded in our language as the rocks before my eyes: gold rush, gold standard, golden opportunity, and now in my case, gold fever.

  “Mine,” I breathed hypnotically, the word taking on a double meaning. “Mine!”

  Attacking the rocks like an enemy in battle, I picked furiously for the irresistible ore. Two, three, four, five…

  As the sixth gold-flecked stone fell away, I gaped at what lay behind it. These freckles were lighter, whitish blue, and sparkled like the stars.

  “Oh my,” I whispered as a few swings freed the lustrous, finely cut gems. “DIAMONDS!”

  Minutes later I was rushing up to the surface, bars of gold in one hand and a collection of diamonds in the other.

  “I’m rich!” I trumpeted, dancing my victory dance across the meadow.

  The animals just looked at me for a minute, then went back to gobbling green.

  “Don’t you understand?” I asked, waving the wealth at them. “Don’t you know what this means?”

  Moo snorted with a sidelong glance.

  “Yes, well.” I tried to blow past her response. “I know I can’t buy anything with it on this island but just look at it! Look how beautiful, how…useful!” Running over to the crafting table I shouted, “I mean, if iron is stronger than stone, then…”

  I held up the glinting golden helmet. “See!”

  “Moo,” countered the cow, forcing me to compare the two headpieces. True, the golden model looked prettier, but the metal itself seemed flimsier, softer, and less likely to protect me than iron.

  “Yeah, well, probably won’t make that much of a difference,” I argued, refusing to admit she was right. Going back to the crafting table, I placed the two diamonds I’d gathered above a single stick, and came away with the hardest, sharpest, most dazzling sword you can imagine.

  “Ha!” I belted. “Whaddaya say to this?”

  Moo didn’t say anything, and neither did the two parent sheep. At least I got an agreeable “baa” from Rainy.

  “Told ya this stuff was valuable,” I strutted, marveling at the flashing blade. “Move over Protector,” I said, packing away the obsolete iron cutlass, “because it’s time for Flash.”

  Swaggering back to the hill, I called over my shoulder, “Who knows what else I can make with more diamonds and gold!”

  Weapons, armor, maybe even new devices I hadn’t thought of yet. These were all justifications for the desire driving my feet. I’d fallen victim to a lot of things on this island: hunger, fear, sleep deprivation, and now greed.

  “We’re in the money,” I sang, recalling a tune much older than me. “La da dee dee dee…”

  Stepping down into the cave, I might have continued to saunter carelessly into the gloom, but thought I saw a figure up ahead. Not a zombie or a skeleton. It was dressed head-to-toe in black with a tall hat, and, to my great excitement, had healthy, normal skin. It was a person!

  “Hey!” I shouted, sheathing my sword and running forward. “I’m not alone anymore! I’ve got company!”

  Getting close enough to touch, I babbled, “Where’d you come from? How did you get here? What’s your—”

  Glass shattered across my armor, the shards of a bottle thrown by my new “friend.”

  Suddenly my body slowed, my limbs feeling like lead. “Whaahaaveyouuudu…” I slurred as a second bottle broke across my face.

  Nausea.

  Pain.

  Poison!

  Blood burning, lungs squeezing, I fumbled clumsily for my weapons.

  “Hahahaha,” cackled my foe, actually taking pleasure in my suffering. This wasn’t a dumb beast acting on pure instinct. This being could think, could feel, could choose to do me harm. This was what my world judged as evil.

  “W-w-witch,” I mumbled as another bottle appeared in its hand.

  My diamond blade flashed. The witch tottered back. Fighting through waves of dizziness, I cut the laughter into smoke.

  Food!

  But my pack was empty. In my mad rush for riches, I’d totally forgotten to restock. Something was hovering at the witch’s final resting place. Sugar?

  Snatching up the little white pile, I staggered up to the surface.

  SNAP!

  A second battle, the one within my body.

  SNAP!

  Poison versus hyper-healing.

  SNAP!

  Would I make it? Could I reach the surface in time?

  Crashing through invisible walls of agony, I stumbled back up into my bunker and over to the storage chest.

  Fish!

  The last two salmon went down just as the poison ebbed. “Ugh,” I groaned, slumping forward, cooling my face on the smooth rock wall. It took several moments for me to feel well enough to move again. And when my body did, my mind still had a long way to go. Are witches the only people in this world?

  “You’ll never guess,” I said, shuffling out into the clean, crisp air of the meadow, “what was down there.”

  “Moo,” replied my friend sympathetically.

  “Thanks for not judging me on this one,” I said, twitching with the recent memory of pain.

  Reaching into my pack for the bucket, I added, “And thanks for all the milk as well.” Topping off the pail, I crafted and filled two more. “I hope this works as well on poison as it did on zombie flesh.”

  “Moo,” said my generous pal, no doubt seeing the troubled look on my face.

  “No, you’re right,” I agreed, “this wasn’t just another battle with a new kind of mob. This was different.” I paused to sift my feelings into words. “This was so disheartening because, well…after all this time I finally found someone like me.”

  “Moo,” corrected the caring animal, with a distinction that made all the difference.

  “Right again,” I said with a nod, “it wasn’t like me, it just looked like me and just ’cause someone looks like you doesn’t automatically make them a friend.”

  GRRRP, growled my stomach, responding to the smell of the milk. “Gotta finish healing,” I said, and went inside for my fishing pole.

  Stepping out the back door, I noticed that three squares of wheat were ripe. One loaf should be enough to restore me, I thought.

  I was about to combine the three bushels when I noticed something I’d never had before. Remember way back when I’d tried to combine all my edible ingredients like wheat and sugar and milk into something but for some reason it never seemed to work? And remember when I realized that the key to combining wheat was just more wheat? Well, now I not only had more wheat, but two lumps of sugar, three buckets of milk, and a baker’s dozen eggs.

  “Maybe now?” I said aloud, arranging them all on the crafting table. Four seconds later: “Piece of cake!”

  No, literally! Hovering in the ether was a light brown, frosted confection complete with little red sprinkles.

  “I knew there had to be an answer,” I told Moo, setting the large, round, yummy cylinder on the ground. Yes, the ground. For some reason you can eat a whole loaf of bread but cake’s gotta be eaten in slices. Go figure.

  I took one bite, and let out a long, low zombie-like “mmm.”

  Now, if you like desserts, and if you don’t there’s something seriously wrong with you, then imagine going without them
for nearly a month. Imagine living on a diet of fish, bread, and carrots, none of which had any spices in them by the way, and suddenly biting into a slice of heaven!

  “Oh,” I groaned again, savoring the spongy, moist cake.

  “You know,” I said to Moo, “this is the first sweet thing I’ve tasted since the…”

  The word stuck in my mouth for a moment. “Apples.”

  Suddenly the cake didn’t taste so good. No amount of sugar could counter such bitter memories.

  “They were so delicious,” I confessed sadly. “So crunchy and sweet and I burned up the trees that could have made more.” My mind flashed to the accidental replanting of birch saplings and how easily they could have been oaks.

  “I’ll never taste an apple again,” I said, shaking my head. “They’re all gone forever because I thought the saplings were worthless.”

  I took off my gold hat and looked at it. “Worth,” I repeated to Moo. “I think the word means how much you want something and how hard it is to get. I sure understand that meaning now, because I know that one apple is worth more than all the gold and diamonds in this world.”

  “Moo,” she sighed sympathetically.

  “Thanks, buddy,” I answered, “but feeling bad about a mistake isn’t enough. I’ve gotta make sure I don’t make the same mistake again.”

  Turning to the rest of the animals, I announced, “From now on, I’m dividing the island in half. From Disappointment Hill to the eastern beach is mine. I can change it, develop it, do whatever I like with it. But from the meadow to the western claw, the island belongs to itself. I’ll put everything back the way I found it, fill every hole, replant every tree, and leave nothing but footprints when I’m done.”

  To the cheers of “moos” and “baas,” I replied, “We’ve gotta take care of our environment so it can take care of us.”

  I didn’t intend to build a whole house. All I wanted to do was move the chicken coop. I hadn’t factored that structure into my original environmental proclamation, so once I started scouting for a new location, I realized my options were limited. The eastern beach was too narrow—and too crowded, when you throw in the expanding garden—so the only other alternative was the hill.