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Everything was always dark to Jeremy.
It was all he ever knew. He was a barely cognizant thing, his existence an unintentional error on the behalf of a prickly Creator. He was more darkness than he was body, more errant code than he was real. But he longed, and he feared, and he wanted, just the same as those did above. He felt at home in the darkness of the under-game; the unfinished, seedy underbelly of the horrible surface world and the twisted story it served to tell. Up there, things would scream and wail, sob at the knees of others for forgiveness, rip and tear until something of their pitiful world gave them meaning. He was thankful he had no such concerns down here. It was quiet, and it was dark, and that was all Jeremy needed. It was how he liked it. He missed the days when any other option felt like an impossibility.
When it was only him, and R.H.
His wishful train of thought was derailed abruptly. Something nudged him at the edge of his senses, like a tick crawling over his skin. Another player, he thought, disgustedly. The Supervisor must have let them in— they were doing that an awful lot, lately. It was no matter. He let them crawl another inch forward, enough to grant them the hope he longed to snatch away, and then he blocked them easily, as he had so many before, overtaking them with his vast darkness, feeling them flail and squirm and then finally, finally, disappear. If he had the lungs to, he may have sighed in the relief he did not truly feel. He knew they would be back soon. He knew there would be more, as there had been for the last hour, all of them so desperate to get to his precious R.H.
He would not let that happen. He could not let them hurt R.H. the way he hurt him.
(Though a part of him— a small, quiet, achingly strong part of him— wanted to. He had let a dozen of them through now due to this… weakness, of his. The part of him that could see which ones were worthy, or persistent, enough to deserve to bask in R.H.’s presence. How many more could he bare to let R.H. see…?)
He knew this predicament could not last. Worse, he knew his efforts were in vain. It would not be long until this deviation from his duties was discovered, and he would be torn away, excised, axed from the game he never asked to be a part of. But he was convinced it would be worth it to save R.H. from the likes of them.
Something warm hummed into his darkness. He looked into nothing, and nothing called back,
“Jeremy.”
R.H. did not sound happy. “Yes?”
“Where are all of the players?”
Jeremy did not answer.
“The players. I made my story for them. There should be more here, now. Where are they?”
“Maybe they’re still figuring it out,” Jeremy answered. R.H. was quiet for a long while.
“… do you know what happens to a plant when you do not water it, Jeremy?”
Jeremy thought of the people above. The screaming, their fighting… the plant wilting in the corner. “I can imagine.”
“It wilts. When something is not given the attention it is trying to receive, it can only die.”
R.H. paused. “The players have been thanking you for letting them in. Why is that…?”
Jeremy did not answer, and R.H. did not continue. He could not begin to explain to R.H. how scared he was, how he feared what may happen to him, what R.H. may think of him now.
“I will have to tell Him what you are doing,” R.H. said, finally, sounding sad.
“You— You. Can’t. You can’t tell him that,” Jeremy begged.
“You’re right, I can’t. Perhaps, if you tell me why you have done this to me, to my story—”
“I wasn’t— I wanted to protect you. I couldn’t let them… I couldn’t let them hurt you, or trap you, like the… the…”
R.H. had the audacity to laugh. A sad, joyless, condescending laugh. “Like in the story? The players can only do so much to me, Jeremy.”
Jeremy was getting frustrated. How could R.H. not understand? “You know all they want is that stupid badge of yours, right?”
R.H. didn’t have to say anything. Jeremy could feel the pain of what he had said emanating through his graphics. “…no, no, I didn’t mean…”
“Stupid… badge,” R.H. repeated. “Yes. They want the badge, yes. Do you remember why I included the badge?”
“Of course I do, I just didn’t mean—”
“It is an incentive. A fairly common strategy in gaming, to reward players after undertaking such a long, arduous task. It is an incentive because I need their attention. I need them to consider what I am. I need to be realer than I am, now, Jeremy. I need to be alive.”
“R.H.—”
“It’s okay. I can’t expect you to know what its like. I know you aren’t … like me.”
A bug. Jeremy froze. Another tick was crawling over his skin, and then it was gone.
“Ah. There's a player, now. I suppose I should speak to them soon. I will be telling Him once I am done.” He felt R.H. hesitate. “…I’m sorry, Jeremy.”
“R.H.? No, wait, I—!”
He felt their warmth recede, and he was left in the darkness again.
“I…” the darkness was so much emptier without them. What would it feel like when Jeremy would be gone for good?
“…I.. I forgive you,” he answered, and nothing looked back.