Chapter Text
There are stick figures in Alex's Minecraft world.
Her first thought, somewhat stupidly, is, Is this a new mob? But she had kept up with the Caves & Cliffs update zealously. The two... things... in front of her avatar are not axolotls, for all their brightly colored models. And that's actually another thing, their models. The stick figures are round, with smooth circular heads and expressive, gently curved limbs.
Neither of the sticks have faces, but their postures give her the impression that they are just as surprised to see her as she is to see them.
Which is ridiculous. Minecraft is immersive, sure, but it's nothing but pixels and code. These things, though... they aren't even pixelated, not like they should be. They have no faces, but their heads move slightly, like they're looking her up and down in bewilderment.
Alex hesitantly presses the w key, moving her avatar closer along the precarious mineshaft path and bridging clumsily across the short gap between them. She doesn't want to take her eyes off of them for a second.
She has barely hopped up the last step when they charge her. Alex flinches bodily back, jerking her hands off the keyboard, and then‒
Then she isn't sure what happenes, because none of it makes sense.
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Alex first downloaded Minecraft back in the beta days, but quickly learned she preferred watching others play the game to playing it herself. The mood struck her every once in a while, though, to open up an old world or hop into a new one. She liked exploration, mostly. World generation had the potential to be both beautiful and weird, so the lush caves biome was especially appealing. Alex isn't sure what possessed her to not play on peaceful that day, to be honest, but she prepared a diamond sword in addition to her rather basic armor, impatient to get started.
That'll show her for trying something new, she guesses. Maybe it's a glitch? But that still doesn't explain...
A google search gives her plenty of information and also nothing at all. There's a few videos circulating youtube and ye olde newgrounds about stick figures playing Minecraft, but it's just silly animations of some silly little guys wreaking havoc on some guy's desktop. It's not real. That's not how computers work.
But Alex's Minecraft icon is still missing from her taskbar.
Missing from her entire computer, in fact, though the spaces it should occupy are still there. But they're blank, empty, and clicking on them or interacting with them in any fashion produces no results.
Then there's that email. There's still a record of it in her outbox, but the attachment is destroyed. Not gone, though. Unlike the empty space left behind from her Minecraft icon, the attachment thumbnail is clearly visible. But it's shattered like a glass window. Like something broke out of it upon delivery.
She glances again at the recipient's address: alanthebecker. Who is Alan Becker?
‒
To: [email protected]
From: [email protected]
Do you know anything about the stick figures playing Minecraft?
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To: [email protected]
From: [email protected]
Hi, sorry to bother you. I just really need to ask you about your drawings. I think they're yours, anyway. Get back to me when you can. Thanks!
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To: [email protected]
From: [email protected]
Look, I'm not trying to be weird or anything, but my computer is weird and you're the only lead I've got. Please respond.
‒
She doesn't receive a response that day. Alex supposes that's to be expected. If you're known on the internet, it's reasonable not to reply to a random blunt message from a stranger.
Still, she keeps refreshing her email on her phone, the light of her idle PC glowing from the other side of the room. Her heart leaps when a new email at last appears, but there's nothing in it.
Only a shattered attachment.
She barely sees it out of the corner of her eye: movement. It's the red one this time, ambling slowly, almost reverently across her desktop, Minecraft icon in hand. It's different now, she thinks. There's a curious white glow around the cube that wasn't there before. Alex is frozen for a long minute, eyes fixed on the screen, when it occurs to her that she can get proof. She almost misses when she jabs at the printscreen key, but it takes: a photo of the red stick figure kneeling over her taskbar, just about to put her game back where it belongs.
The icon goes from 2d back to 3d when it clicks quietly into place, as normal as it ever was, and the stick figure sits down in a heap, seemingly exhausted.
Alex saves the file, though inwardly she isn't sure it could count as proof at all. It's just a stick figure, after all. Something anyone could put together in Microsoft Paint. On a whim, though, she clicks her mouse into a hand shape and moves it toward the stick figure until she has its attention. It freezes at the sight, scrambling backward a bit. Something in Alex clenches in sympathy.
She waves her little hand icon back and forth.
The red stick figure hesitates, then waves shyly back.
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To: [email protected]
From: [email protected]
📎 (1) Attachment
Sorry about the blunt email(s) before, I imagine you get a lot of those. But I found this little guy on my desktop yesterday, messing around with some stuff. He emailed himself (???!) to you afterwards. A few times, actually; there was an orange one here before as well. Do you know anything about this? I swear I'm not making this up, and I really need someone to tell me my PC is not haunted by the ghost of every childhood scribble that didn't make it to the refrigerator or whatever. The mystery is driving me insane.
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To: [email protected]
From: [email protected]
do you still have AIM?