The server stats refresh. 20 users.
SpaceGoat and SteeZ both idle after my last message: "I need to think about it."
The house is silent. Outside my door, nothing. Just the hum of the monitor and the occasional hard drive click.
I'm not thinking. The decision has already happened—somewhere between TraceOps's G-line threat and Caldwell's folder sitting on my desk. The Northwestern program. Friday deadline. Real distributed systems work, the same architecture I've been teaching myself through IRC, but with theory and mentorship behind it.
I'm not walking away from programming. I'm walking away from channel wars for something that actually builds a future.
My chest feels lighter. The weight I've been carrying for three days—ops in #mp3 and #warez, the constant vigilance, the pressure—it's already gone.
I just haven't said it out loud yet.
The #crew window blinks.
Here we go.
My fingers hover over the keyboard. Let them talk first.
The argument is building. Fast. Both of them typing at once, lines piling up.
They aren't wrong. From a pure ego standpoint, giving back the channels looks like surrender. Like we can't handle the big leagues. Like we've proven everyone right who calls us script kiddies.
But they are missing the math.
Ten seconds of silence. Then:
I switch windows. Pull up #main on our server.
I copy the lines. Paste them into #crew.
Silence for five seconds.
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I stop typing. Caldwell's voice in my head: *Make a career out of this.*
The cursor blinks. No response from either of them.
Ten seconds of silence.
A minute of staring at my last sentence—am I lagging or are they not responding?
Finally:
Another window blinks. PM.
[FLiPZ] yo is the server dying
[FLiPZ] should I move my bots
I stare at the message.
FLiPZ has been on our server since the beginning. Posted in #main every day. Helped other users with script problems. One of the community members who actually make the place worth running.
And he's asking if he should leave.
The user count drops to 35 while I watch.
The fight isn't just costing us infrastructure. It's killing what we've built.
[SKa] no
[SKa] server will stabilize
[SKa] trust me
I switch back to #crew.
The words sit there on screen. Final.
The channel goes quiet. Neither of them typing.
Twenty seconds of nothing.
Another ten seconds.
No speeches. No dramatic goodbyes. Just two people who understand the math even if they hate the answer.
I switch back to EFNet. Click into my PM list. Find SKriLLa's name.
The message field sits empty. Cursor blinking.
Five words would end it.

