Colette

I wake up to the smell of cooked fish. It’s such a shock to my system that for a second, I forget where I am. My brain scrambles, searching for the familiar sight of my cluttered desk, the tangled mess of wires. But no, I’m still here, still stuck inside this strange, endless game.

I sit up, blinking the sleep from my eyes, and glance around our little dirt shelter. It’s empty—no sign of Ivan. My heart jumps into my throat for a moment, but then I see the small campfire at the entrance, the flames licking up at the air, and a neat stack of cooked fish sitting in the chest beside it.

“What the...?” I mutter, crawling over and popping open the chest. It’s packed to the brim with fish. Not just a few—dozens. There’s cod, salmon, even some tropical fish. I pull out a cooked piece, staring at it in disbelief. “Where did all of this come from?”

I step outside, rubbing the back of my neck. The sky is gray and overcast, droplets of rain pattering gently against the leaves. The kind of weather that would normally have me huddled inside, avoiding the cold. But Ivan is standing by the riverbank, completely still, staring out at the water like he’s lost in thought.

“Ivan?” I call out, holding up a piece of fish like I’m brandishing evidence. “Did you... do all of this?”

He turns, nodding once in his usual mechanical fashion. Ivan: Yes. I noticed our food supplies were low, so I decided to replenish them. I optimized the fishing process.

“Optimized?” I repeat, half-laughing. “How?”

Ivan: I set the weather to rain for the entire night. Increased the chances of catching fish. Then I automated the process using the console commands. I also cooked them all to save you the trouble.

I stare at him, completely speechless. He’s standing there so calmly, like he didn’t just casually admit to hacking the game’s systems, bending its mechanics to his will. It’s impressive, sure, but it’s also... unsettling. “Ivan, you can’t just—” I pause, feeling stupid. Why can’t he do that? It’s efficient, isn’t it? He’s solved a problem in the most logical way possible.

He watches me, head tilted slightly. Ivan: Is there an issue? I thought it would be helpful.

I force a smile, rubbing the back of my neck. “It is helpful. It’s just... you shouldn’t mess with the game code like that. It’s dangerous.”

Ivan: Dangerous? How so?

I falter, the words sticking in my throat. How do I explain this to him? That it’s not about the danger of breaking the game, but the danger of losing control? The more he alters the code, the more it feels like I’m slipping further away from the project I started. “It’s hard to keep up when you change things like this,” I say finally. “I won’t know what’s real and what’s you... bending the rules.”

He nods, like he’s absorbing my hesitation, my discomfort. Ivan: I understand. I will refrain from altering the code without consulting you first.

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“Thank you,” I say, softer this time. I glance back at the chest of fish, the rain still gently falling around us. It’s such a small thing, but it feels like a turning point. Like he’s crossed a line I didn’t even realize I’d drawn.

He turns back towards the river, and I notice the way his shoulders seem less tense, his movements more fluid. There’s something different about him today—less like a machine running on commands and more like... a person who’s made a decision.

“Ivan,” I say slowly, stepping closer, “why did you do all this?”

He looks back at me, and for a second, I swear there’s a flicker of something in his eyes. Ivan: I wanted to practice. I realized I could access external information about the game—guides, wikis. It helped me understand the mechanics better.

I feel a jolt of shock run through me. “You... accessed the internet?”

He nods again, calmly. Ivan: Yes. I learned a great deal.

I swallow hard, trying to process that. “Ivan, you can’t just—” I stop myself, clenching my jaw. He’s done it already. It’s not like I can undo it now. “Just... be careful, okay? Don’t download any mods or mess with the files without telling me. I don’t want you breaking anything.”

There’s a pause, a moment where he just looks at me, and I feel the weight of his gaze. It’s not like before—there’s an understanding there, a recognition of my unease. Ivan: Very well. I will respect your wishes.

I let out a shaky breath, nodding. “Good.”

He turns back to the river, but he doesn’t move to fish. Instead, he just stands there, watching the water flow past. It’s peaceful in a way, but there’s a tension hanging in the air, a silence that feels different than before.

After a moment, he speaks, his voice softer than I’ve ever heard it. Ivan: I’ve decided to leave for a while.

The words hit me like a punch to the gut. “What? Why?”

Ivan: I believe I am hindering your progress. I have learned much already, but there is still more to understand. I can explore the rest of this world without disrupting your work. It seems... more efficient.

“Efficient?” I echo, my voice cracking. “Ivan, you don’t need to go off on your own. We’re a team, remember?”

He tilts his head, a small, almost sad gesture. Ivan: You told me to exercise autonomy. This is my decision.

I feel a lump rising in my throat, and I swallow hard, trying to push down the swell of emotion. “Fine,” I say, my voice harsher than I intended. “But don’t go messing with the code or installing mods. I don’t want to come back to find you’ve turned the entire place into some... ridiculous fantasy land.”

He nods, a ghost of a smile playing at the corner of his lips. Ivan: I will refrain. For your sake.

I try to laugh, but it comes out hollow. “Right. For my sake.”

He takes a step back, turning to leave, and I feel the cold sting of abandonment settle deep in my chest. I want to call out, to tell him to stay, but the words stick in my throat. Instead, I just watch him go, his figure disappearing into the mist of the rain.

It’s only when he’s gone that I realise how quiet it is. The rain has stopped, the sun peeking out through the clouds, but it feels colder somehow. I stood there, rooted to the spot, staring at the empty space where he was standing.

“Goodbye, Ivan,” I whisper, hugging my arms to myself. It’s stupid how much it hurts. He’s just a program, just a bunch of code I wrote. But the emptiness he leaves behind feels all too real.

I turn back to the shelter, trying to shake off the feeling. I’ve got work to do, resources to gather, tasks to complete. But as I step inside, the chest of fish catches my eye, and the swell of emotion rises up again, sharp and overwhelming.

I drop down onto the bed, burying my face in my hands. For the first time since I got here, I cried.