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:~$> _
The term is poverty of imagination. Something is either extremely concrete, right there in front of their eyes, or they don't get it, and get annoyed with you pretty quickly if you try to make them use their imaginations to understand your point. Nothing they do or say is original. It's copied whole cloth from other people and media that they like. Other people's originality strikes them as annoying randomness. If you ask for any kind of unusual request or special consideration, this breaks their brain, and they usually jump to the conclusion you're trying to cheat them. This is both a safe conclusion to jump to if you're not very bright, and a legitimization for expressing the frustration they feel for not being able to follow what the hell you're trying to say, and your failure to just fall in line and be no trouble to them.