Would get excited of things that just weren’t there. Then they’d say that wondering on made-up things was nonsense. Well, these islands were mercy of mine. Theirs were a foreign production. No shame in digging public servers. I always liked mine. Even if tickets outsold attendants, mine still looked rad.
OH I MADE SO MANY SERVERS FOR YOU. WORKS OF ART. LIKE YOU! Works of art. I replicated every detail to perfection, convinced like a Christian that your second coming was near. “She surely detests where she is now!”. I made ARGs for you. Left intricate pieces, labyrinths of I-love-you’s, made sub-plots and interactive robots. A true tailored experience. You would have loved it. You would haven’t had nadend helped yourself. You never did, right? I was that cool. I am that cool.
I made libraries of content for you. I make them still. They all bear your name. You are like God: you forgot.
I still explore those places, from time to time. Always will.
Things out there don’t exist. They may wave and approach and act as friend, hug and cajole and bring amends. But this is a ghost town. My last remains is what I made for you.
This doesn’t make sense.
And the special agent caught the bag containing the orb and launched himself into the flying helicopter, shot Murdoc’s car and got him to confess where the remaining nukes were. Soon after he was decorated with High Praise Immense Top Quality Soldier medal and I tried everything and I would have tried more, I can’t try more, I wish I could, I would, I just know it is right, you are letting time prove me wrong, a broken clock is twice a day, oh you so want to prove me wrong, what did I do to you, why Jules why, why why why why.
Then, an alien force so fatal that it outdated every human hope by light years just happened and we unhappened. I had everything prepared. It probably is still around, floating somewhere. After all, private servers are hard to destroy.
We may have died, but I tattooed us on things with a higher half-life.
