This was a story I wrote when it seemed like @Virgil had given up and was content to let the website die for good. I’ve been on niche webforums for as long as I can remember, and I’ve seldom seen an Admin as good as Virgil. We have always been lucky to have him, and he’s a terrifically central figure to this community. He brought us back together after the Dark Times, and gave us somewhere to do this weird anti-social art we all make. Thanks Virgil. Glad you didn’t let the fuckers win.
Racecar was shivering. Quaking, damn near. Daddeh had given him a deadline, and the site was still all brokeded! He was so sad about the broken site, but he didn’t know what daddeh would do when he got home. He was thinking about that when he heard the door.
Daddeh calmly walked in and sat on the couch. “Computer, bring Racecar to couch.” The Alexa dinged as the Roomba deployed and scooted a half asleep Racecar across the living room floor, idly complaining of “wubby owwies” and “wowstes wuggy buwnies” as he went. He stopped at daddeh’s feet, but before he could beg, daddeh held him.
Didn’t pluck him. Didn’t snatch or grab or pull or yank. Cradled and held him. Laid him softly on his lap and sighed.
“Daddeh, Wacecaw am sowwy bout webby s-”
“It’s okay, man. I know. It’s not your fault, you did your best and I love you.” He paused, and looked at Racecar. “I don’t say that enough. I hassle you and harass you, but I’d be lost without you little buddy. I would.” Racecar was taken aback. This was an unambiguous display of fondness the likes of which he’d seldom seen. “D…daddeh? Ebbyting…awwite?” Daddeh smiled, meekly. “Virgil threw in the towel. I just heard. Can’t say I blame him, frankly. Running a site in this environment is hard, especially when it shits the bed like that. It’s impressive the thing worked as long as it did, and we all owe a debt to him for that.”
Racecar frowned. “Cummoonity gone? Nu hab webby pwace nu mowe?” Daddeh ruffled his hair. “Nope. Not no more. It’s gone, now. I think the Discord is still up. Gotta figure that shit out I guess.” He looked off to the side at his keyboard. Racecar noticed. “Daddeh otay?”
“You take things for granted.” He hadn’t looked away from the keyboard, speaking almost more to himself than Racecar. “You get tired. Take a break. You walk away from places because you’re busy, after all: They’ll be there. They’ll always be there.” He takes his pipe out. It’s a stubby wooden one, the kind an old man in a cartoon might smoke. He loads a vaguely sweet green herb into it and lights up a match as he draws in.
“Hell, it didn’t matter that the new place only existed BECAUSE the old one died. Made the same mistake.” He refocused his gaze on the middle distance as smoke billowed. “We’ve still got Reddit, but it’s always so tenuous. Something about the site felt secure. Like it was ours. Like they couldn’t take it from us. Guess that wasn’t what we should have been worried about.” Racecar was happy he wasn’t blamed, but sad about the news nonetheless.
“Wha bout aww Wacecaw nyu fwends? Wike Chicky Heebo? An Tuwwbyme? Wah bou Ted?” Daddeh comforted him. “Hey don’t worry pal, they’ll all be here too. But Virgil won’t. He’s had enough. Too much, maybe. Running forums burns people like they’re fuel oil and he’s run dryer than most folks could’ve.” Racecar pouted his lips and teared up. “Gunna miss Viwgow. Awways nice tu Wacecaw. Awways teww Wacecaw gud bwite tiem.” He looked up. “Wat if Viwgiw nu can cum backsies? Wat if nebba see gain?”
“I wouldn’t worry. If he stays gone, he stays gone. If he wants to leave, I wish him well. If ever that changes, I’m sure we’ll know him by his signs and works.” He pulled a small token from his pocket. A pin of a very fussy babbeh with a “42” drawn on the back in silver ink.
“We can always recognize one of our own.”