Characters watch in silence.

This is the rabbit hole.

mask@gardenofremembering:~$>
mask@gardenofremembering:~$> ls

Hello.

mask@gardenofremembering:~$> help

This is the garden.

We changed the name when the world ended. No need to remind us of what we lost, right? So we changed it. We used the patterns already established to obfuscate the illicit, and we obfuscated the licit. We changed the name and we forgot. The contents moved.
They no longer tied to that which was lost.

But that could mean almost anything. Even now we obfuscate. We mention nothing specific. No great wars, no circular hypertext, no libraries, no anglers, no scary sisters plotting in their corners. There of course was no series of dreamers, no random phrases applied to just as random pretties. No, these nightmares were perfectly planned, flawlessly meaningful, arranged impeccably by date.

There is no recollection here.

Do not enter the garden.

mask@gardenofremembering:~$> wtf

It is said that the internet is forever.

This is not true. Things get lost, times change, people forget.

mask@gardenofremembering:~$> _
Some plants are made of antifreeze. Others just freeze solid and then repair themselves. Others still just die, but go out screaming, so loud even we can hear it, even if we don't know what it is we're hearing. There's getting attached to your plants, and then there's actually learning some of what they are. And every one is different. And every individual, too. Even clones from the same progenitor, over time they grow distinct, and some scream so much louder than others. But I don't want to hear them scream, or see them wither, or feel them lose their structure and break down. I can't just let them die, when they are so much themselves, each entirely their own. And that's why I have way too many fucking plants.