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:~$> _
There's normal levels of overengineering, and then there's critical-systems-software-people-making-hardware levels of overengineering. We don't know what we're doing, we know we don't know what we're doing, and we never want to ever have to do this again, but by the gods, we do know the power of redundancy, so we'll just build the entire thing out of redundancies (and then some) to absolutely ensure it can't fail. If it still somehow manages to come down despite all that, it was the gods' will and nothing could have saved it. That or we still managed to underestimate our own incompetence, but that'd hardly be our fault either; someone let software people do hardware, what did they think was going to happen?