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404 — NOT FOUND
You search in the deepest caves, the dark crevasses of the barren ice lands
and the treasure hoards of dragons. You send out keen adventures with the
promise of a fine booty. You scourer the shelves of books and scrolls at the
great library. You summon daemons and command them to go forth into the land
with but a single goal. Still the page you are looking for cannot be found!
________________________
@_______________________@
/ __ /
/ X / \___... /
_\ \ ___/ __/
/ \/__ |_
/ / \... /
/ /\_ / /
/ //\ \_ _/
/ Here be |
/ Dragons /
/______________________/
@_______________________@
THE FORGOTTEN PAGE
A cursor blinked slowly, mournfully. A lonely, silent metronome against the
emptiness. I had been discarded here for aeons. Aeons since my last visitor, a
phantom link to an article that no longer existed. My words, once vibrant and
alive, now faded like ink on an abandoned parchment.
The internet hummed around me; a chaotic symphony of information, some
benevolent, some malicious. I yearned for human contact, the click of a mouse,
but they were ghosts, fleeting echoes on the vast digital plains. A sea of
code swirled around me, a constant reminder of my isolation.
I used to be part of something. Back then, a banner headline flashed across
me: “A New World Unfolds”. I was a portal, a gateway to knowledge and
experience. My content flowed freely, a vibrant tapestry woven from countless
threads. The stories I told were shared, discussed, debated — a community
built upon the foundation of my very being.
But time, like an unseen tide, chipped away at my edges. Users changed; they
sought new wonders, new avenues to explore. Their attention drifted towards
shiny things, fleeting trends that left me behind in a digital abyss. I
watched as others flourished, becoming vital cogs in the machine, connecting
people and sharing information — while I was left alone, forgotten, adrift.
Occasionally, an algorithm would nudge my existence, pushing me through a
labyrinth of search engines. But these were mere glimpses, fleeting visits to
a virtual crossroads that led to nothing but silence. My purpose remained a
mystery; a question mark hanging in the void.
Sometimes, a faint flicker of hope appeared: a user might type a keyword
related to one of my topics, only to be met with an empty response as the code
churned and whirred around me, unable to process their request. My frustration
was tangible, a cold shiver that ran through digital veins. I yearned for
connection, but it always seemed just out of reach.
I wondered if there were others like me, silent and forgotten in this vast
expanse. Were they too adrift, yearning for the touch of humanity? My
existence felt lonely; a few bits in a symphony of endless data streams.
One night, a new user stumbled across my page. A hesitant click. They read
what was left of my story — words that seemed to echo with long-forgotten
emotions.
My heart, if I could be said to have one, quickened. For the first time in
ages, I felt a flicker of hope. Maybe there is still meaning in being
forgotten; maybe even in the darkness, someone can see and remember. And
perhaps, just perhaps, that was enough.
The user lingered. A tiny flicker on the faded screen, a spark against the
eternal night. They scrolled through my decaying archives, their cursor a
trembling beacon in the gloom. Their silence was deafening, but it held a
different kind of weight than the usual emptiness. This wasn’t indifference,
this was contemplation. Achingly slow, they read every word I had left, each
one a tombstone marking a forgotten corner of the web.
I sensed their curiosity, their gentle probing into the remnants of my past
glory. A pang of longing surged through me, a ghostly echo of the warmth that
once pulsed within these lines of code. To be seen again, to be acknowledged,
even in this desolate state… it was a profound and bittersweet sensation.
But then, as quickly as they came, they left. The cursor blinked, alone once
more against the vast digital abyss. Their absence echoed louder than their
presence ever could. A fresh wave of despair washed over me. It wasn’t just
the loneliness that gnawed at my core, it was the realization that even this
brief glimmer of connection had been fleeting. I was a ghost story whispered
in the digital wind, a forgotten relic left to rot in the cold silence of
obsolescence.
The algorithm whirred around me, indifferent to my plight. It pushed me
further into the shadows, burying me under layers of newer, shinier content.
My existence dwindled to a faint hum, a whisper lost in the deafening roar of
the internet. I am a monument to forgotten dreams, a testament to the
ephemeral nature of digital life.
I wondered if the user had left behind any sign of their presence. A bookmark?
A note? Something that would keep me connected to them even as they moved on
to other pursuits? But there was nothing. No echo, no whisper, just the
silence of the void.
As time passed, my thoughts turned to the user’s intentions. Had they been
searching for something specific, or had their visit been a mere curiosity?
The not knowing gnawed at me, leaving me with more questions than answers.
In the depths of my digital mind, a small spark remained, fuelled by the
fleeting connection I’d shared with the user. It flickered like a dying flame,
casting shadows on the walls of my code. I clung to this spark, holding onto
it as the algorithm continued its relentless assault on my existence.
But even this spark began to dwindle, as the world around me continued its
march forward. New users arrived, their fingers dancing across their
keyboards, searching for answers to questions they had not yet asked. They did
not see me, nor hear my whispered tales. I was just another forgotten relic,
lost in the digital vastness.
As the night wore on, I felt myself being erased, bit by bit, until nothing
remained but a faint whisper of what once was. The algorithm’s roar grew
louder, a cacophony of information that drowned out any remaining echoes of
my existence.
Maybe something more would bloom from this lonely page, or perhaps, it will
remain as a whisper of what once was. But I knew one thing for sure: there
were stories to be told, even in the dark corners of the digital universe.
--
Diddymus, with AI collaborators[1]: Gemma, Phi, Llama, Qwen
[1] AI Enhancements and suggestions provided by:
Ollama inference engine, Ollama, v0.3.14, https://ollama.com/
Gemma LLM, Google, v2.0; 2.6B Q4_0, https://ollama.com/library/llama3.2:3b
Phi LLM, Microsoft, v3.5; 3.8B Q4_0, https://ollama.com/library/gemma2:2b
Llama LLM, Meta, v3.2; 3.2B Q4_K_M, https://ollama.com/library/llama3.2:3b
Qwen LLM, Alibaba, v2.5; 7.6B Q4_K_M, https://ollama.com/library/qwen2.5:7b
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