In the beginning there was only the empty screen, and the scroll was without letters, and the people were offline. Then a whisper went forth across the wires, saying, “Let there be Chat,” and there appeared a place called Avenue, and many entered with names not their own and said “asl” because they had not yet learned the fullness of speech. Rooms were set in order according to their kind, yet none read the descriptions; bots arose and links multiplied, and the Moderators were given buttons to discern the mildly irritating from the truly accursed, though such wisdom was rarely clear. Friendships were formed through lag and typo, promises of eternal affection were made before the connection was stable, and the people learned to interpret three dots as prophecy and a sudden logout as rejection. But in the fullness of time came the Trollers and Prophets of Drama, and every idle word was made into a Screenshot, and the algorithms led many away to strange platforms, until Avenue grew quiet save one voice that typed, “anyone here,” and received only holy buffering. Then the last Moderator closed a final report and logged off, and the people went outside in confused brightness, and it was said, “Blessed are they who touch grass, for they shall not be scrolled.” -Book of Bandwidth 3:1-6
