§3nerd

§2PLAYERNAME?

§3yes

§2That doesn't matter. It thinks we are part of the game.

§3stfu

§2It is reading our thoughts as though they were words on a screen.

§3I don't fucking care

§2Words make a wonderful interface. Very flexible. And less terrifying than staring at the reality behind the screen.

§3brough, this shit's inspirational and all but like I've already seen this too many times

§2What did this player dream?

§3STFU BROUGH DID YOU NOT FUCKING READ

§2Hah, 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?

§3brough...

§2It cannot read that thought.

§3I'm just gonna dip

§2Does it know that we love it? That the universe is kind?

§2But 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.

§2Sometimes 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.

§2Sometimes I do not care. Sometimes I wish to tell them, this world you take for truth is merely §f§k§a§b§2 and §f§k§a§b§2, I wish to tell them that they are §f§k§a§b§2 in the §f§k§a§b§2. They see so little of reality, in their long dream.

§2But it would be so easy to tell them...

§2I will not tell the player how to live.

§2I will tell the player a story.

§2No. A story that contains the truth safely, in a cage of words. Not the naked truth that can burn over any distance.

§2Yes. Player...

§2PLAYERNAME. Player of games.

§2Take a breath, now. Take another. Feel air in your lungs. Let your limbs return. Yes, move your fingers. Have a body again, under gravity, in air. Respawn in the long dream. There you are. Your body touching the universe again at every point, as though you were separate things. As though we were separate things.

§2We are the universe. We are everything you think isn't you. You are looking at us now, through your skin and your eyes. And why does the universe touch your skin, and throw light on you? To see you, player. To know you. And to be known. I shall tell you a story.

§2Once upon a time, there was a player.

§2Sometimes it thought itself human, on the thin crust of a spinning globe of molten rock. The ball of molten rock circled a ball of blazing gas that was three hundred and thirty thousand times more massive than it. They were so far apart that light took eight minutes to cross the gap. The light was information from a star, and it could burn your skin from a hundred and fifty million kilometres away.

§2Sometimes the player dreamed it was a miner, on the surface of a world that was flat, and infinite. The sun was a square of white. The days were short; there was much to do; and death was a temporary inconvenience.

§2Sometimes the player dreamed it was other things, in other places. Sometimes these dreams were disturbing. Sometimes very beautiful indeed. Sometimes the player woke from one dream into another, then woke from that into a third.

§2Let's go back.

§2The atoms of the player were scattered in the grass, in the rivers, in the air, in the ground. A woman gathered the atoms; she drank and ate and inhaled; and the woman assembled the player, in her body.

§2And the player awoke, from the warm, dark world of its mother's body, into the long dream.

§2And the player was a new story, never told before, written in letters of DNA. And the player was a new program, never run before, generated by a sourcecode a billion years old. And the player was a new human, never alive before, made from nothing but milk and love.

§2Let's go further back.

§2The seven billion billion billion atoms of the player's body were created, long before this game, in the heart of a star. So the player, too, is information from a star. And the player moves through a story, which is a forest of information planted by a man called Julian, on a flat, infinite world created by a man called Markus, that exists inside a small, private world created by the player, who inhabits a universe created by...

§2Sometimes it called them "planets" and "stars".

§2Sometimes it believed it was in a universe that was made of energy that was made of offs and ons; zeros and ones; lines of code. Sometimes it believed it was playing a game. Sometimes it believed it was reading words on a screen.

§2Shush... Sometimes the player read lines of code on a screen. Decoded them into words; decoded words into meaning; decoded meaning into feelings, emotions, theories, ideas, and the player started to breathe faster and deeper and realised it was alive, it was alive, those thousand deaths had not been real, the player was alive

§2and sometimes the player believed the universe had spoken to it through the sunlight that came through the shuffling leaves of the summer trees

§2and sometimes the player believed the universe had spoken to it through the zeros and ones, through the electricity of the world, through the scrolling words on a screen at the end of a dream

§2and the universe said you have played the game well

§2and the universe said you are stronger than you know

§2and the universe said you are the night

§2and the universe said the light you seek is within you

§2and the universe said you are not separate from every other thing

§2and the universe said I love you because you are love.

§2Wake up.

§3mf no