Something Stirs in the Forest

Submitted by C B Wright on

A razor-blade masthead sits unused, deep in slumber. It has slumbered for 11 long months in this abandoned corner of the web, an eternity by web reckoning, and none who wander by can say if it will ever wake again.

Many things that ought to attract the attention of the razor-blade masthead -- things with names such as Network Neutrality, GPL v3, Microsoft/Novell Linux Patent Protection, and Web 2.0 -- fly past without fear. It is not common, after all, for sites to die on the web, even sites with promise: it has claimed the lives of many bright and gleaming ideas, swallowed up the most enthusiastic and sincerely committed of endeavors. Surely, these things say, the razor-blade masthead is dead, is gone like so many of the sites that have gone on before it. See, they say, we will come to rest on its cold form, and yet it is unmoving: it is not sleeping, it is dead. It will not awaken, for there is nothing from which to wake.

And so over time the razor-blade masthead is forgotten, lost in a jumble of tubes and wires... but mostly tubes, and very few trucks. And the things that ought to fear the attention of the razor-blade masthead forget the razor-blade masthead: it fades into the scenery with all the other half-discarded projects, dreams, ideas and tinkerings that makes the foundation of the web.

But one day the razor-blade masthead moves: it yawns, stretches, opens a bleary eye and sees what has happened around it. Then both eyes, wide with horror, see that the digerati run unchecked, amok, unhinged, and decidedly unkempt.

It bears some of the burden for this. It swore to raise the hue and cry, and instead it took a nap.

It has been blunted by time, but the razor is still there. It is dull, but recognizable, and a whetstone lies nearby.

There is a sound of stone and spark, of steel sharpening steel, and then there is silence. The trucks have arrived. The tubes are in danger. The weavers are revolting.

All Hail the Eviscerati.