the voices had spoken ......
he sat there with shivering fingers, trying out their methods one by one. If this worked he would be out of this dark cell of solitude. He would see the light, he would once again be a part of the whole. He brought up Tapatalk, the very act seemed to fill him with a glimmer of hope, despite the frustration it had brought him in the past few days. The higher mortals were well meaning but naive, they did not know what havoc a simple change might wreck upon the a life. But the voices, they knew, they had suffered the same as him and they had solved the puzzle. They had come out triumphant and now they lent him a hand, guided him. Delete the old forum..... symbolic he thought, one must get rid of past attachments if one is to move to something greater. He punched in the new name "the digit forum"... he'd been looking for the wrong thing before, repeating past mistakes and hoping they would somehow see his effort and work, the world did not work that way. It demanded the right question to give the right answer. It showed up....The popup was like manna itself, it proved that there was something in the path he was following. The new name did have a forum corresponding to it.... but would it work. He tapped it and for what seemed like an eternity, he waited.
An error, a package file did not match with what the forum expected of it. Failed again, he thought as the walls seemed to grow closer and the light seemed to grow dimmer. Failed again! even the voices, noble and knowledgeable as they were could not penetrate these higher mysteries. Despite all the right steps some line of code written by some programmer long ago had decided it did not like what it saw when it looked in the server. There was nothing more to do
"I saw this too, try again"....... another voice, insistent, told him that it had faced the same, this error was the last trial by fire. They did not understand it, but this error would yield to repeated trials. Like a wooden shield it would break if you tried again. The dark spurred him on, the memory of light spurred him on, he tried
and broke free. There it was, a light he had almost forgotten. The voices, clearer now, he could hear them whenever he wished, no matter where he was he could listen and he could call back. He told them he was back, they welcomed him, shared in his joy. What would you ask of me in return for giving me back all of this?
They sounded as one, sounded with the enthusiasm he had come to expect of them.... "tell us the story, and tell it true"
