ini di biningging...
The chorus of the old meme, sang like a hymn, resonated throughout the newly-established Archive City. Bums, orphans, and Redditors covered the streets like flies, begging for either a coin or some attention. Memes are scarce to come by now. With no means of being delivered to everyone at an instant, they gained longer lifespans, just like jokes of the old times.
Revent rode his bike through the pale-lighted pavement, glancing at street corners as if he was lost. He was looking for Sir Breming, an internet veteran who had saved terabytes worth of meme compilations. The system may have gone down as a whole, but education finds a way, at least in the hands of the old man.
Revent took a turn to a dim alley, and leaned his bike against the drab wall. The chorus was the loudest from there, and he knew it was the right place. As he walked into another corner, he saw grouped up people, of various ages, sitting down, singing ini di biningging. The old man in front, Sir Breming, was sitting down on an old wooden box, eyes closed, feeling the moment and taking it in as a core memory. To him, it was the camaraderie brought by the internet, and it is something that cannot be destroyed nor forgotten.
"My boy. You've come," Sir Breming beamed and walked towards Revent. "Trouble finding the place?"
"No, sir, the singing helped."
"Certainly, that was my intention, oh surely," he laughed with his eyes crinkled, amused by his own humor. Revent smiled in response, but was curious with what the hymn was for.
"Well," Sir Breming blinked, "it captures the wondering of others. As you know, we cannot be too forward when stating the topic of our lectures here. Come and sit somewhere, maybe on that two decade old sofa, if you can call it that."
The old man returned to the wooden box, used his brown leather sling bag as cushion, and raised his hand to call attention. The singing stops, with one ancient man continuing.
"Wageous, if you may, please," Sir Breming said gently.
"ini di-- Oh, apologies, Brem. Seventy years in this lifetime is enough to make one deaf," Wageous scratched his head and smiled, his earrings clinking as he sat properly.
"Wageous, you are eighty years old." Several people laughed.
"You are only some years younger than me, you arrogant prick!"
Sir Breming laughed, then turned to the crowd, and postured with authority. "My friends and students, especially those who are new to this meeting, we are here to look back on the days of..." He stopped abruptly, clutched something in his pocket and brought it out. It was a paper written with The Internet. He pointed his finger towards the sky. "The above and beyond. The era of connection like never before, and never been since. And I aspire that you all experience it, as I have experienced it years ago. But before we delve into it more, I must tell you that it is strongly against our rules to say the term written here," Sir Breming unraveled the paper once more. "The world does not see it the same as it was back then, and is now treated as danger more than benefit. In order for us to be safe, we must call it This Place."
Sir Breming went on to discuss several concepts of internet culture, stating his favorite was the open-endedness of memes and how it evolves throughout time. "They have a life of their own, and people mistakenly thought they were wasting time creating and cultivating them. They did not know they were participating in humanity's largest, most connected works of art, and it was a celebration of creativity and wit of all of us. They were inside jokes, wherein most of us were in on it. If you happen to not understand or despise a meme, there were of ones suited for you. There was something for everyone. It was instant and ever-changing. And it was beautiful."
Revent was ecstatic with the newfound knowledge of what has been before his time. He wanted to write most of what he learned, but paper was scarce.
"Sir Breming," Revent called, raising his hand. "Could I have your paper?"
"What paper, my boy?" Sir Breming turned to him with a smile.
"The one with The Internet written on it."
The night air turned chill as several people in the alley stopped with their eyes wide open. They turned to Revent, who stood frozen as well, trying to grasp what he said. Everything, and everyone, and everywhere, was silent, as dark figures walked towards the alley. Sir Breming's students scrambled to escape, turning to all directions and hiding in corners.
"Get out of here, Revent," Sir Breming commanded. "Wageous!"
Wageous immediately grabbed Sir Breming's sling bag. He took a long glance to Sir Breming and he responded with a smile.
"So long, old friend." Sir Breming tapped his friend's back and pushed. "Go."
Wageous grabbed Revent's wrist and ran, making lefts and rights in a seemingly maze of corners and back alleys. They covered quite a distance, but they cannot escape the sound of it.
Several gunshots.
Wageous winced, and looked back at Revent who he was pulling along.
"Make it count, boy."
