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Where do you see OCR in ten years?

Thin Crust

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That tops it, thats the most chilling thing I have ever heard. Every hair on my body stood up when I read that.

To be fair, this is a rather idyllic vision of the future.

The dystopian version is a 404, register this domain name for only $14.99. Overclocked Remix is gone, little more than an electronic whisper in deep and silent folds of the internet. Everything you have ever known or loved about this place will be snuffed out. Erased. Eradicated. It will be as if Overclocked never existed in the first place... And in the long and torturous years to come, you will remember the din cry of one of your most cherished songs and your fingers will race ahead of your mind. But as you go to click on that most wonderous bookmark in your browser, you'll remember. That slow, sickening realization will rise like scattering spiders in your throat.

"I forgot. Overclocked is dead"

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OCR In Ten Years...

Coop sits quietly by the fire, watching the small flames dance over the slowly charring logs. The short-lived waves of warmth that come from it do little to ward off the chill that's sunk deep into his bones, and the rain beating against the window nearby gives him no moment of peace to collect his thoughts. As he tries to make sense of things, what comes next is inevitable.

A hurried banging pulls his gaze from the fire, and Coop stares hard at the handle of the front door. A moment later, a voice shouts "Open the door, Coop! We know you're here!" from behind it, as its metal knob begins to rattle.

He should say something... but what? "No one's home", or maybe "I'm on the crapper"? Would it make a difference what it was? Probably not, since they wouldn't hear it over the banging. Coop just looks back into the fire, and decides it's not worth it. He knows there'll be a lot of talking shortly. May as well save his voice.

The door bursts in, and the room fills with police officers... guns drawn, and pointing straight at the back of his head. "DON'T MOVE!" and "STAY WHERE YOU ARE ASSHOLE!" ring out in a dozen different voices. But they eventually grow silent, and a set of nearly heavy footsteps start to get closer.

"Not doing much to hide yourself, huh?" comes a raspy voice.

"Not really, no," the Coop says calmly.

Footsteps come around, and a detective comes into view. He picks up the poker, and starts prodding the logs in the fireplace. Looking back at Coop from under his weathered brow, "You'd probably feel a lot warmer if you kept this going better."

"I doubt it," Coop grins.

The detective looks back at the fire. "Yeah, I do to." After a few moments, he stands up and shakes the rain from his overcoat. "So," he says, wiping off his sleeves, "are you up for a little talk?"

Coop looks up at him. "About what?"

"Oh, just this and that," the man says passingly, as he steps away from the fireplace. Leaning back against the wall along side it, "You wouldn't know anything about a website called... um... hang on a sec." He slowly rummages around in one of the liner pockets of his overcoat. "Let's see..." he mumbles, pulling out a piece of paper. "Oh yeah. OverClocked Remix?"

Coop nods a little. "A bit, yeah. I used to post there a lot."

"Really?" the man says. "Well, then maybe you can help me out. See, the guy running the place, named 'djp', was nearly killed a week ago."

"That so?"

"Yep," the man nods. "Seems someone came to his house with backhoe, and started tearing into it. The thing is, they were tearing into where his bedroom was."

"Wow," Coop says in an even tone. "Some serious business."

"Tell me about it. Whoever was driving that thing was doing a lot of shouting too. Things like, 'First UnMod, then Off Topic, and now Other Stuff?', and 'See how you like loosing part of your home!'."

Coop raises his eyebrows. "Sounds like a real nutjob."

"More than likely, yeah. You uh... you got any ideas who the person driving that backhoe was?"

"No. No I don't," Coop says, shaking his head. "I do know that there were a lot of people who got pretty pissed off about the shenanigans there. Could have been any number of them."

The man scratches his head. "This is true. But uh... yours was the only old account still active on that site. According to djp, you were the only remaining older poster who was there for the deletion of all three forums this backhoe driver named. He says you were stilling posting when Other Stuff got the axe... up until a week ago. You haven't posted since the backhoe attack."

"My Internet service was shut off a week ago. Seems my provider went under, and I'm still trying to find one that doesn't overcharge me."


"Really," Coop nods.

"Interesting. I'll have to check that out. But uh... in the mean time, try not to make yourself scarce, huh?"

"I'll be right here."

"Good. Good." After a few moments, "You know, it's a shame he decided to shut down the site. Looking some stuff up, it seemed to have a lot going for it. Was pretty popular from what I read."

"It was a fun place, once," Coop says calmly. "But with dozens of restructurings after merging with VGMix, banning everyone who didn't have a remix on the site, and that whole "pay to post" debacle... well, the fun fades when the things people like start getting pulled out from under them. There was always talk about building a stronger community, but it's kind of hard to build a community when you keep splitting it, ya know? Guess someone got tired of it."

The man stands there for a bit longer, then turns and starts for the busted in front door. "Well, I'll be in touch." Then to the police in the room, "C'mon guys."

Just as the detective reaches the door, "Oh, and detective?" Coop calls back.

"Yeah?" the man says, looking back over his shoulder.

"If you find the one who did this, be sure to tell them, 'It's just a forum'."

The man nods, and leaves the way he came in. The last cop out attempts to prop up the mangled door, but gives up after a few tries. The sound of engines roaring to life drift in over the steady rain. They eventually slowly fade, and Coop is left alone, staring coldly into the dying fire again.

Picking up the poker, Coop nudges one of the logs, sending a shower of sparks onto the fireplace floor. "Serious business, indeed."

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DJP sires an heir apparent, somebody with a lot of back-end programming and web savvy who can perpetuate the site without too much guidance. DJP hands over all the pertinent access, and then heads into the sunset, gathering the smoldering ruins of his social life along the way. OCR, under its new regime, continues (ostensibly) largely unchanged.

Programming? Web-savvy? You mean, he'd hand it over to the ThaSauce staff? Awesome. But unfortunately...

We'll all be dead before then. No worries.

2012, baby. We all gonna die.

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