My Brother...

The Swedish game programmer worked diligently through the night on his game. He wanted to make something incredible, and he had done it. All he was doing now was working out some kinks within the system. People all over the world played this game, and the audience for it was growing each day. He couldn't sleep when he knew people were expecting the latest updates for it.

Just think, Markus thought to himself, people actually want to play my game! My game! It's so...surreal! So amazing!

''BRRING. BRRING. ''The wire phone next to Markus rang, a shrill noise grating on his ears. He got up, programs still up on the computer, to stop the incessant noise.

"Hello?" Markus asked, unaware of who was calling so late at night.

"Hey bro! It's me!"

"Oh, hi!" Markus exclaimed. His brother had flown away on some vacation to the US, and was finally returning, but had sent no word of when he was due to leave. "What's up?"

"Not much, I just thought I needed to tell you something pretty important."

"Um, okay? What's the matter?"

"There's this awesome game I'm playing, it's quite amazing, and I was told that a certain little brother of mine may or may not have made it."

Markus was baffled. He didn't think his brother even played video games, let alone those designed by his 'pipsqueak little brother', as he was called. "Um, yeah! I'm glad you like it! Anything you see that needs improving?"

"Not that I notice right now, but since it's made by you, I'm bound to find something wrong with it! Hahaha."

Markus chuckled at the joke. "So, when do you plan on coming home?"

"I'm kind of on a plane right now. Halfway to Berlin, and then right on home!"

"That's great! Great news!" Markus was excited. He hadn't seen his brother for a while, and was eager to hear about his escapades in the US.

"Yeah. Hey, do you play this, too? I mean, playtesting, obviously, but do you, y'know, play play?"

"Yes, I do! I like to interact with my audience."

"Neat. Alright, I'm on this...uh, 'server'...and I totally want to play it with you. It's at 43.762.74.63."

"Alright, I'll be right on!" Both still on the phone, Markus wrapped in the cord of his, he logged onto the address of the server. "How should I look for you?"

"I'll look for you. What's your username?"

"Notch."

As Markus finally connected to the server, he pushed the Tab key. There were several dozen people on the server, many just huddled around a central point near the map's center. When he logged on, people started crowding him, eager to meet the creator of Minecraft.

"Sounds cool. Aloof. Mysterious!"

"Ha, yeah, a bit. Who am I looking for?"

"I'm over here, in the wood building. Herobr-" A crashing suddenly sounded from the other end of the call.

"Hey, what's going on? Hello?" The most terrifying noise came from Markus' phone, a lightning strike several time louder than normal, followed by an explosion - which was cut short as the call was ended. "Can you hear me? Say something!" Markus was nearly in tears at the fear of what had just happened. He looked on the server's player list, and he saw only one name that matched what his brother had begun to say. It hadn't logged out, so Markus thought everything was okay.

He was wrong.

The plane had flown too close to a supersystem in the darkness, and the pilot wasn't receiving the instruction or warning to notice it. The storm within was unnaturally powerful, and destroyed the plane in seconds. A mass gathering took place to remember those who perished in the crash, a crash with no survivors. The European government never recovered the wreckage, and Markus never saw his big brother again.

But Markus still holds out hope. He has a computer in his home that is always connected to server 43.762.74.63. And as Minecraft became more popular, the server's traffic dwindled, until only two players were ever connected anymore. Why does Markus hold out hope, you ask? Because one player has remained on the server since he logged on. A player who was too active for a dead man.

Notch's brother, Herobrine.