By Andrew D. Wright

I had linked to a blank site, something so rare as to be the stuff of legend. The chances of producing a valid code for an unknown site were so small as to be beneath notice. Ironically, Logos had been such an accidental discovery. A drunken student had been returning from her boyfriend's house and had ended up stranded for a week in one of those giant climate controlled warehouses that had sat empty for a million years. There were thousands of them dotting the landscape like the dimples on a golfball. I envied her. At least she had had water. I could feel myself dehydrating with every breath.