Little could be seen in the gloom. His flaming torch threw shadows of forgotten cabinets and abandoned servers around the room. At one desk sat a terminal shrouded in the cobwebs of long-dead spiders. Beneath the desk sat a terminal of eldritch, or at least oblong, dimensions. A twinge of doubt passed through his heart. Could this be restarted? Archimedes had once said that given a lever and firm place to stand he could move the world. He would have been a handy person to have around. The on button looked so fixed in place that he seriously considered leaving it where it was and moving the rest of the server fractionally forward to turn the machine on.. Eventually with enough application of oil the button shifted, complaining with a grinding sound that vibrated down into his bones.
The screen flickered into life. Early notes of a thesis crackled onto the screen, followed a by a brief note on Tribble was that really five years ago? At the time blogging was seen as a fad. Images flashed across the screen. Some connections flashed and flailed wildly. Where other servers were active they grew, Others reached out to lost sites like Copernicus Sashimi before withering.
Was he doing the right thing? Would rebooting the blog mean that more Britney would have to be added to replace what had been lost? Could a blog have too much Britney? Too late, the server whirred on.
It’s hard to put a finger on a moment when something is lost, but there were brief signs. He went to the big red lever marked ‘Blog’ and tensed his muscles. The posts continued to briefly appear and vanish across the screen. Then the fateful words appeared: FriendFee… He pulled the lever.
The server screamed in protest, but the deed was done. The direction of the flow reversed. Once again FriendFeed was the aggregator and the blog was the engine. Random sparks leapt as he plugged in the various cables back to dlvr.it and Google. Gusts whirled around the room leaving it shiny faintly pine-scented. Lights winked and then flourished in the ceiling as the power for the server began to be directed outwards again rather than internalised.
A new theme wrapped itself around the content. The reboot was almost complete. A few subroutines reached out across the net for the final touches. He packed his tools and prepared to leave. As he turned he noticed the big lever was missing. In retrospect it did seem a gratuitously phallic symbol. Was this a Battlestar Galactica style re-imagining? Discreetly he checked the contents of his trousers. No, the shininess was clue. It was clearly more like a disappointing Star Trek style retcon. He made a mental note to get a plot to replace the one that had been lost, and left the room.