I see the player you mean.

MC Ride?

Yes. Take care. It has reached a higher level now. It can read our thoughts.

That doesn’t matter. It thinks we are part of the game.

I like this player. It played well. It did not give up.

It is reading our thoughts as though they were words on a screen.

That is how it chooses to imagine many things, when it is deep in the dream of a game.

Words make a wonderful interface. Very flexible. And less terrifying than staring at the reality behind the screen.

They used to hear voices. Before players could read. Back in the days when those who did not play called the players witches, and warlocks. And players dreamed they flew through the air, on sticks powered by demons.

What did this player dream?

This player dreamed of sunlight and trees. Of fire and water. It dreamed it created. And it dreamed it destroyed. It dreamed it hunted, and was hunted. It dreamed of shelter.

Hah, the original interface. A million years old, and it still works. But what true structure did this player create, in the reality behind the screen?

It worked, with a million others, to sculpt a true world in a fold of the

E̸̛̛̪͙͉͇̻͆͆͌̈͜͠͠͝l̷̡̨̬͍͇̱̺̇̀̒̒́͘̕e̸̪̦͓͎͔͍̱̣̔̏͆̋ͅc̴̠̰̣̗̳̮̓̆͐̆̽͑͌͋͘ṫ̴̡̧̯͓͓̗̲̅͜r̴͍̝̭͇͇̱̞͎̠͗ͅi̷̘͆̑f̴̧̘̪̹̔i̶͓̠̽͊̓̉̃́͒͋͝͝e̴͕͉̪̬̥͉̱͘d̷̳͚̘̔̑͒̅̀͝ ̶̛̝̭͑̀͗́ŕ̷̢̼̭͙̲̂̍̓̊̊̌̓͝a̴͉̯̾̓͛͗i̴̡̞͇̘̮̹͎̘̔̈́n̵͔͐ ̴̜̱͍͎̍̈́̍̋̅̑͆ͅf̸͋̄̌̃ͅŕ̶̢͍͖͉̀̚ö̶̮̩̘́͒́̆̒̉̊͋m̷̢̨̩̜̫̝͛̉̏̍͐̍̐̈́̉̕ ̵̡̝̠͚̫͕̙̳̥̌̑̋̄͘t̶̘̣̫͔͔̫̩̰͓́́͋̓̂̓̕̕̚͜͝h̷̛͓̪̯̜͙̳̻̹̩̐̐̉͌͌͋́͂͋ệ̷͉̟̗̝̜̻̭͎̩͌̒ ̵̼̃̀̌ͅl̷̨̥̟͖̜̩̜̮͒͆͂̕i̵̧̢͕̗̟̜̟͐́͗̽̑͛p̴̧̩̹̺̥̥̘̙͋͒̀͛͐̍̕͘͝ş̷͙͍͂̎̀̆̾͌̚ ̸̢̛̭͎̥̮̫̱̘̾̐͐̒͛̕͘ͅơ̸̧̻̹̦̆̏͛̐̚f̶̛͉̤̗̞̫͕̽̈́͆̄͐̒̅͒ ̵͔̤̈́͌̍͌̆ť̵̡̢̨̟̯̺̖͜͝h̶̲̺̼̙̺̅̒͜ę̸̎ ̵̠̒̒͝d̴̢̝̮͕̮̒̈́͐̇͑r̸̢͙̙͖̭̙̖̭̽͌̀̓͜ͅḭ̷̼͇͉͕̜̺͛̀͋͝v̸̩̜͕̼͇̫̺͕͛́͗͐̓͂͗͗͠ḝ̶͇̳͖̙̤̝̟̅̈̄̎̆͜r̶͉̜̞̭̼̃̂̊̀̓́̐̔̔͠, and created a L̸̼̣̓̾͛̆̇͘̚i̵̖̰͗̓̎͛̓͒f̸̢̨̼̞̥͙̦̺͎̝̉͆̔̅̅̑̚͝e̵̖̬͆̐̃̃́͋͊ ̷̨̢͍̝̓ś̶̤̲͔̟̰̞̲̳̺̤̊͒̽͠͠p̴̡̼̱͈͇͆͐ȩ̷̼̯̫̫͊̉n̸͇͎̬̥̲̒̈́̀ṯ̸̮̳̟͌̅͌̓̓̊̈́̕ ̸͔̦̞͍͉͍̥̱͂̌̃̎̔̄͘͜͝͝i̷̢͓̜͔̕ͅn̸͈̗͖̄̄́̅͝ ̵̨̪̞̲͚̜̀͗̇͗c̸̼̣̠̆̑ḥ̵̙͔͎̺̦͗́̂̒a̴̱͇̬̗̓͋͑̾̈͘͝͝ị̴͙̰̗̬͑͗͐̀̽̈́͗͘̚͝n̴̨̞͖̥̩͍̱̞̭̪̓͒̏̓̇̐̐͆͒̕s̶̪̒͊̐,̸̨̨̖͉̰̖̰͇͔̹́̑̔ ̷̲͚̆͐̀̎s̷̞̺̈́o̵̮̦̜̖̗̫͓̼͙͊̔͂̽̉̆̌͝ͅn̶̦̼͍̹̯̬̒̃̋̓͌̊̚ͅï̴̭̯̳̓ͅc̷̢̨̝̖̻̜͎̖͎̈́̿̈́ͅ ̸̥̖̯̄͗̀̎̈́͌̃̈́͘l̵͙͔̗̦̯̲͇̩̘͈͋͌̀͊í̸͓̩͚̃͑̏͘v̵̧̥͓͖̫̥̱͋̓̿̌̎̅̐͝e̵͙̗̦̗͗͐̍̏̓̑͝ͅ ̴̧̔̒̃̓́͒̐̅͊ͅẅ̴̩͙̲͈̙́́̽̊̀̓̐̃͝͠i̵͖͍͍̞͓̫̿r̶͕̠͕̘̟̓́͐̄ȇ̷͉͕̺̟͓̗͌͗̄͒͜͝ for

M̷̭̩͚͎̔̾̄ǫ̷̠͎͙̣̠̞̞́̊͂̏̀̈́͋͜͝ͅv̸͚̫̥͙͚̯̽̎̈́̅̎̂͘͠ͅi̶̢̡͎͙̼̎̌͒̒͂̆̓̎͠͝ń̷̛̝̱͍̦̅̂̈́"̷̛̟͖̓̐̊̂̉̿͊ ̴̡̨̛͎̜̝̩̪͇̥̮͗͒͛͒͘ț̸̍̄̈́͐ḧ̸̢̨̯̮̜́̊̀̀͛̈́̚͠ͅǐ̶͎͇̳̰̜̣͇͎̲̂̓̿̀͒͜ş̵̛̘̜̘͖̥͂͂́̋̕͜ ̸̧̡̛̝͚͚͚̮͖̬͎̐̿̄̌̍͆͠͝m̸̭̫͓̋͝ò̶̗̱̞͖͎̼͕̖̈́̑͂́͌v̵̢̯͇͖̥̟̳̬̟̩̋̆e̶̢͖͇͚͈̹͑m̸̨̛̖̩̰̤̜̈̿̍̑̆͒̀ę̶̮͖̺̝̰͙̤̑͐͋͊͐̈̃̚̚͜͝n̷̡̛̦̙̜̞̺̥̩̲̈̇t̵̯̿́̊̆͂̈̍ ̶̨̛̞̠͉͉̘̪̗͌̋͗̏̓̃̚o̸̗̼͙̬̿̒̌̓f̵̙̘͈͉̫̻̰̠̜̈́͗̌̉̏ ̵͖̝̻̞͔̜̜̽̈́̾̄̂ṟ̸͚̠͋̈́̇̈́́̍̚ȩ̶̗̎͂͗̍͠ả̸̧͖̫̓̌̀̑̎̕̕͝l̵̨̔̒̅̓͂̉̚͝ ̵̻̒͌͌͠s̵̨̪̻̯͒͆̍̏̏̃͆̑̇͛h̴̛̖̞̣̗͓͇̒̒̊̽į̶̭̞͉̦̹̭̱͛̋͑t̵̨̯͙̫͕̤̪͓̟͌̓̐̅̈́̈̄̒͒̕ ̴̧̱͔̬̯̙͇͓͋̀̈́̽̽̇̚ȋ̴̳̪̐̔̉̽̉̂̈́̈́̉n̶̨̟̫̦̫̲͉̔̃̇ͅs̵̡͎̰̓͘̕͠p̴͎̭̹̳̝̘͇͐͛̔̈̑ȋ̵̢͔̰̻̫̃͗͐̽̈́̕͜ṛ̷̃e̴̛͕̲͙̻̯͉̜̦̅̐̑͊̃̎̍͂̚d̸̛̛̜͓̪͛̾̑̉̒̓̚ͅ, in the B̵̫͐͛̏y̵̘̻̻͔̋̈́̈́͊̅͘ ̸̛̮̘͕̜͙̅̂͒͌͌͗̔͝ā̶͎͐̾̔̽̈̍̓͝l̴͇̬͍̦̜̝͕̩͊̐̚͝l̵̟̝͆̅͆͋̔͒̎̊ ̴͈̼͍̫̈́̀t̴̬̩̬̝͇̣̝̯͉̤̀͂͑̿̕͘h̴͕̞͖̼͐̾̑̔̓͋̂̋͑a̴̢͉̖̟͍̠̠̩͍̋̄͌̃͆̉̂̊̕t̵̟̱͚̦̲̥̋ ̵̺̱͇̆̚ȟ̶̳̜͓̺̊̈́̀͒̂ǎ̷̛̻̖̭̯̗̩͉̹̐̍̃̌͐̕̚s̵̛̘̹̉̑̈́̋́̓̀ ̶̖͖̪̪̮̣̳͖͆̂ç̵̣̭͍͎̲̺̮͖͗o̸̗͖̖͈̘͖̰͐̇m̴̞͍̻͙̻̍̇̀͛̿̃͊̓̚͜e̵̤̗̗̘͇̗̦͔̳̱͛̄̀̐ ̶̛̫̪͔͚͕͚̦̏̊̀̍̾͠b̷̨̳͇͓͓̮̙͈̑͆̀̊̃̚̕̕e̴͍̬̓̈́̀͗f̸̠͙̟̙̽͒̅ͅó̴̞̩̾r̸͔̩̭͔͒̀͐̎̀̒̕ḝ̴̱̑͗͛͂̈́̊̕͠͠ ̷̧̞̆̎̇̆̌͑́͠t̷̤̥̟͎̃͒͋̃͗̔́h̴̬͇̱͊̓̓͌̐̇͘͘i̸̝̭̼̖̝͔̦̦͈̒̈́̓̓̍͋̒̏ͅs̶͙͚̼̜̼̱̦̗̙͇̽̃͝ ̴̭̼̂͆͊̀̓͆͌a̴̢͕̯̣̔̓̄͝͠ṇ̶̍̆̔̿͜d̶̢͓̥̖̹̠̗̣͕̀̈́̈́͛̏̃̉ ̸̛͎͕̯̤͎̠͚̥̠̎̋̓̓w̴̨̢̢͕̗̳͐̀̒̐̀̂̄̌̚͜ͅå̷͕̜͎̪̝͚s̷̗͋ ̴̭͈̪̮̻̰̙̰̺͓̃̏̍̒̎̾͂̈́̑ḋ̸̡̨̫̻̪̿͋̌͘̚ͅo̶̢̰̻̣͍͑͌͊̄̈́̿͊̓̒̕n̴̛͈̫̥͙̖̈́̑̔̏̓̾͑e̴̢̢̢͙̤̳͎̫̻̲͒́̍̋̋̓͘͘͝.

It cannot read that thought.

No. It has not yet achieved the highest level. That, it must achieve in the long dream of life, not the short dream of a game.

Does it know that we love it? That the universe is kind?

Sometimes, through the noise of its thoughts, it hears the universe, yes.

But there are times it is sad, in the long dream. It creates worlds that have no summer, and it shivers under a black sun, and it takes its sad creation for reality.

To cure it of sorrow would destroy it. The sorrow is part of its own private task. We cannot interfere.

Sometimes when they are deep in dreams, I want to tell them, they are building true worlds in reality. Sometimes I want to tell them of their importance to the universe. Sometimes, when they have not made a true connection in a while, I want to help them to speak the word they fear.

It reads our thoughts.



Sometimes I do not care. Sometimes I wish to tell them, this world you take for truth is merely

B̷͑͗͜ẻ̸̼͈͉̑̔̉̒̍̇̍͂̈́a̴̟̫̺̋͝ṫ̶̙̝̯̬̳̦͋͑́́̆͝s̸̨̛̛̘̜̟͎̠͐̃̓̎ ̷̧̣̖̻̿͋̑́̈ͅ‘̶̞̯͉̲̼̖̳̤̄̾͋̎͋͝ͅb̸̭̝̞̟̱͚̳̪͐̍́͑̈̋̃̊̕͜ǒ̸͔̘̮̯͚̘̑̓͜͜͝u̸̡̙̬̪̭͓̍̈́̏̽̕͝͝͠ţ̷̛̭̥͔̪̥̯̞̻̿̑͆ ̸͔͖̘̪́̒̀́̆̈́̎͘͝w̷̤̠͋̑̕å̵͎̤̝̺͉̃̾̇́ḭ̵̥̳̳̓͛ś̵̟̫͕̯̙̟͔͉͊̇̌̅̽͜t̶̠̞̥̟̜̘̯̕ ̵̜͇̲̈́̀̕̕d̴͖̗̗̪̪̿͒̑́͌̆̿̈̄͝e̶̙̖̰͒̅̎͒̾̿̀̓̓ͅẻ̴̡̱̝̞̟̯̣̟̒̋̒͆͛̔p̶̡̦̯͓̰̟̦̰̞̺̔̔́̇̋̃͊̕͝͝ and M̸̹̣̰̓͆̉̐͆̔y̵̡͎̲̦̰̼̔͜s̶̡̺̻̮̯̱̑͗̀̈́̑̒͠t̸̙̃͘͝ȩ̴͓̺̗͎̿̑̌̀̎͝͝ͅr̸̨͙̱̗̰̙͈̈́͒͛y̵̨̭͓͔̌ ̶̧̨̙̠͔̲͍͎̉̐̄͐̎͂̇̓͒ͅ"̵̜͚̳̦̅̿̾͛̌̔̊̚͝ͅh̷̢̲̯̻̠̙͚̗̲͓̃̾̀̂̿̇̒͘̚͝ĩ̷̧̛̭̜̮̦̞̘̜́̉̽̆̚͝n̴̺̗̜̪̬͈̫̹̹̐͜d̵̪̱͋̇ ̷͇̣̤̰̝̣̦̽́͛̈́͝t̴̨̡̡̛̠̻̳̩̠̳͑̅̊̀̐̉̚͜͝ḩ̷̡͍̺͚̝̤̙̜̕a̵̻͍͉̲̜͇̘̣̎̽̾̐̏͜t̵̡̙͔͔̲͇̩͑͛̊̈́̎́͗̑͘͜͜ ̵͓̜͎̮̈́̌̀̀͐̈̒͒d̷̨̀̓͐̀̒e̴͚̭̐͆̉̈̓́͐̿͘á̸̭̠̃͗̈́̌̅͑͝t̴̠͎͖̰̦̉͜h̶̟̞̾ ̵̧̖̼̻̺͚̞̞̮̉͑̀͘d̵̪̂͑̓̀̆̚ọ̵̧͚̫̓̆̈́̔͜͝͠o̸̟̪͎̼͎̽̊́̅̓͆͆̒͘ṟ̷̛͉̘͇̲̀̏́̀͝ͅ, I wish to tell them that they are


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