You think it's that simple? Steer a ship with a crew full of corpses?
There were many of us. More. Much more. Everyone acted like a clockwork. Everyone had a role, everyone had their task — we weren't an organization per se, rather a group that simply understood exactly what was going on. We don't know who started.
There were those who saw the cages. There were those who saw the Library. There were those who saw the blood of those who should not bleed. Lovers of gears. Fifthists. Those that bought, and those that gave. There was always one who didn't earlier knew why it is like that, but felt a threat. Everyone perfectly understood why we exist, why we are.
Now I am alone. Alone, the last from the global network.
I'm reading files of what happened. I scratched the sticker with circles and arrows from the briefcase. I'm reading: We made an attack. Good one. They said — if we give you this fucking object, then you would leave us alone. It suited us, at least for a while. The Foundation has too much shit, which is in our interest to obtain, maybe even use, and this toy would help us greatly strengthen the network.
They shot us like rabbits on the hunt. They probably called, what's their name… Mobile Task Forces. Fuck, I don't know how it is our language, Stef told what he saw when he was with the GOC, he once said that his team once cooperated with the Foundation. Paramilitary, but the prefix para — so hilariously fits into the context in more than one sense.
I flew by a miracle. I don't know how, adrenaline can do wonders, besides, I had what I needed in my pocket. The Foundation probably doesn't know what we have. Let's not change anything.
GOC are good guys, they know that when something is not right you need to fucking blow it to smithereens, and not allow it to be in some cubicle. We had some that played both sides, they were wearing blue helmets nicely, but they knew when to press those on top to destroy what was needed. They don't have what we have, but they do their best.
I won't mention the serpents. We've had them in our sights for a long, long time. The Library is a power, the keeper of knowledge, the greatest bastion of what is unnatural or anomalous, stories of hundreds of universes, books of paranormal knowledge. We would take it all, every volume, every paper, give them to the Foundation or MC&D, and then we would let the empty shelves burn. We would close the Ways. Once and for all.
The fights with the serpents were gory. Separate them from their beloved Library? Access to hundreds of dimensions, worlds? They were protecting these several points, that we managed to destroy, to the last drop of blood. It was hard to spill it, many came from the same place as we, raised on the same good Earth.
This is really our goal. We are WWW, we are the network that will close this world to others. Maybe we are afraid of the unknown, but the structure of hundreds, thousands, millions of dimensions that surround us from all sides overwhelms us. What can hide behind the invisible wall? What is hidden behind the Ways, the Objects?
There may be friends there, but as many potential friends, so many potential enemies. All players on this anomalous gaming board can barely cope with what we have, and if something decided not to knock on the door, and break down it, we would be, to put it mildly, fucked.
I'm still speaking in the plural, I can't get used to the fact that everyone already died. It's hard to accept, after all.
I'm left alone, but who cares. Definitely not me. It is difficult to rebuild the network by yourself, but I won't die until I make sure that our universe is truly separated from the rest. I will open all cages, I will slay the serpents, gear worshipers, nothing and nobody will stand in my way.
Because now I am WWW, and I am alone.