Tales of the Admins

[fencore]

Hey kids, have I ever told you how new administrators are made?
But I thought all the administrators lived forever!
Heh, it might seem that way, but boy have I got a story for you.
Does it involve a Mommy Administrator and a Daddy Administrator loving each other very much?
No, no, it's a little more interesting than that. It goes a little something like this.

In the depths of the Battlestar sat Gheis on a rusting metal chair bolted to the floor. Shackled to it by his ankle, he slaved away at the computer in front of him. The only source of illumination was its monochrome cathode-ray, the only sound to be heard the heavy clack of mechanical keys. Thus was the daily routine of the young moderator, punctuated only by arrivals of oatmeal and water through a slot in the wall as well as a single visitor.

It was on this, a slow moderation day following a recent round of particularly heavy bans, when he came in. An administrator. Grumpy as always, the administrator slammed the iron door open and stepped over its threshold into the suddenly illuminated cell. He stood for a moment, hands behind his back, eyes peering down from beneath a floppy hat. "Y-Yes?" Gheis stammered. The administrator raised one hand to his chin, stroked his bushy beard, and grinned.

"You haven't made your quota today, Gheis."

"B-But, sir, w-we just banned everyo-one. There's nobody caus-"

"You know what, though?" the Administrator cut him off. "It's okay, I don't mind the days you miss your quota. Because then I get to hear something enjoyable."

'No. Not that. Anything but that. I'll lock everything, I promise, I'll do it. Anything." The moderator's pleas fell on deaf ears, as the hand remaining behind the Administrator's back revealed itself, and the oh-so-familiar implement of Gheis' misfortune, and came down with a solid *thunk*

"AAAAHHHHHH. I'm s-sorry! It's n-not your fault! It's n-"

*thunk*, the Administrator brought down the wrench again. "What was that?"

Gheis wailed again. "I-it's not your fault!"

"I don't think you mean it." The administrator raised his arm again, when suddenly the Moderator did something unexpected.

He said "No."

That caused the Administrator to pause, surprised that the young moderator would have said anything. "What was that, you twerp?"

"N-no." Gheis turned to look at the administrator, who was lowering his arm and staring in disbelief.

"How dare you talk to me li-"

"No." Gheis repeated, stronger than before.

"Oh, you're gonna get it no-"

And with newfound determination, Gheis rose to his feet staring down the administrator, and commanded, "No. Not this time. This time, it is your fault." The room became as brightly lit as it had ever been as Gheis began to glow, the air in the room swirling as he siphoned the strength of the administrator. Dropping his wrench, the bearded tormentor backed down, tripping over a discarded bowl of oatmeal long gone cold.

Turning from the cowering administrator, Gheis looked down at his shackle, pointed, and commanded that it was gone, and so it was. Fading back to his normal appearance, the new administrator turned one last time and sneered at the older man, then walked out of the cell he had known as home for so long.

And thus he stepped onto the server, and became generally indifferent to the world.

And that, kids, is how new administrators are made.
No it isn't, Gramps.
Yes it is. Now go see if Grams needs any help making dinner.
Awwww maaaaaaan!