There are two things in the world that are absolutes. The first is that when you drop a piece of buttered bread, it will always fall face down. The second is that whenever you go to plug in a USB you will always have to turn it upside down at least twice before sticking it in. These are indisputable facts. So imagine my surprise when my USB not only went in the first try but also felt effortless to push in. I actually had to lean down and check to make sure I pushed it in because the thing practically leapt into my computer.

I copied the contents of the USB into a folder on my desktop and all that seemed to be within was a file called, ‘Code’.

“What is in the folder?” Kappa asked and with an arched eyebrow I double-clicked and sat back. Nothing seemed to happen but the screen that Kappa occupied was gone. I was back on my desktop and went to move my cursor to close the file window but it didn’t move. I shook it violently back and forth but nothing. I pressed some keys but nothing changed. For a moment my blood ran cold as a question I had failed to ask bounced through my head; what if this is a virus?

I immediately began kicking myself for not using a test computer at school to see what was on this thing and as I was about to lean back down to pull it out, my screen went black and a line of text appeared on my screen. Nervously, anticipating some poorly written demand for bitcoin, I read it. It was the same font, colour and program presumably as I had seen in the alleyway except what was written here gave me a wholly different feeling;

VIEW/EDIT CODE?

I had forgotten that it was a ‘code’. In my haste and sweat and fear I had forgotten the reason why I had reached into my pocket, grabbed my USB and tampered with evidence; because this was my language. This was my world. Beneath it was an open command-line and so without any hesitation I typed in the word;

VIEW

The screen populated with a massive code written in C++ (the language of my people,) that was hundreds if not thousands of pages long. I began scanning it for recognizable terms, and for the most part I could tell the colour palette used for certain things and the names seemed relatively normal. The first thing that jumped out to me was that this was one, long code. No file folders no titles, it was all populating one single thing. The second thing I noticed was that it had locations; office, bathroom and something called “aprt_1”. I spent probably 20 minutes looking through the code until I got fed up and went to the bottom. It took time. I mean, I ended up leaving an empty water glass on my Page Down key and using the bathroom because it took so long.

When I returned, the code was at its end and I sat down to examine the final lines. At first I was a bit confused. With furrowed brow I stared blankly at the screen and questioned exactly what I was looking at then read and re-read the final code before my stomach tensed with anxiety. The final code had the title;

The narrative has been illicitly obtained; should you discover it on Amazon, report the violation.

bathroom_dunn

At first my feelings were off because I thought maybe this program had studied my PC and somehow copied files from Dunn but the bathroom that was here wasn’t from my game, it was from my house. Below it there were a whole slew of lines of code; details and information about colour code, object population and interaction abilities, all seemingly normal and as they are and were in real life. I stepped away from the computer and nervously looked around my room as if being watched. In these moments having friends would have made this easier because I could’ve mistakenly blamed them for this “prank,” but it was of course not the case.

I went back to my computer and decided to scroll up to the previous section and as if in a daze I scanned the code for what part of me already knew would be there;  

bedroom1_dunn

Beneath were a number of lines dedicated to the various objects in my room, their colour palette and details. Instinctively I pressed escape on the keyboard as if closing the program would make a difference but it stayed populated on my screen. I slammed control-q and tried to launch the task manager but nothing. I stood up and backed away from my desk as if it were diseased and fumbled for my phone. Though I had never called him before, the only person that I felt could make sense of this was Mr. Derrigar and so I called the library. It rang and rang but there was no answer. I looked back on the code and despite me not talking to anyone it read;

library1_office

Desperately I tried pressing alt-enter, the prompt to change a program to full screen and to my delight the screen minimized slightly. Now with the code in a smaller window I could see my desktop, I could see my launch file for Dunn and the program for Kappa. I needed to talk to someone about this and so without thinking I launched Kappa just as the code added a new line;

kappa_merrigold

Kappa Merrigold was the full name I had given him and as he popped up next to the window his eyes stayed blank; the code on the right hand side of the screen populating line after line of text, rewriting itself over and over, correcting errors and introducing new parameter with every line as Kappa’s face twisted and contorted and then disappeared. Confused I eyed the desktop program to see the shortcut had been deleted and as I looked back to the Code I saw the bedroom code lines update.

“Lester?” I heard a voice from behind me and spun around so fast that a pain shot through my neck. There, standing in my room dressed in the faded blue leotard and crimson waistcoat, was Kappa as I had programmed him in game.

I don’t think I can accurately describe the feeling since, so far as I know, it has no equal. Even parents would have a tough time understanding the feeling because there was no part of me that ever thought I would actually get to talk to Kappa in real life. I don’t know whether it was because of the year I’d spent talking to him or because he was after all my creation but for whatever reason once that initial shock wore off, I rubbed my neck and spoke to him as I always had.

“So, this is new.” I said very matter-of-fact.