Objects in the mirror...

Like others, I am worried: will the ground beneath me vanish? I remember when the lights went out on GEnie—I think I hung on almost as long as the indomitable Lois Tilton in those last few hours. Saw her whirling by on an ice floe of disintegrating text. It was surreal.

Dreamwidth doesn't feel like home to me—more like an empty waiting room in a very odd shade of lipstick pink, or an afterlife, but—

This is Nine. Do you read me? Please comment, so I know you're there.

Nine