It’s 10PM and there is a gun against your temple. 

“Tell me about your day,” the gun demands. “Start from the beginning. Tell me everything.” 

This is not the beginning but this is the best you can do. You’d rather be working out.

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This is the last post. The final update. The end. We didn’t fail without trying, but we failed just the same.

The revolution was not televised. The revolution was broadcast, and the revolution failed. We failed. It was shown on every screen, in every home, captured by amatuers on mobile devices, uploaded wirelessly in seconds, broadcasted simultaneously across the globe.

The revolution was broadcast. It was tweeted, live-blogged, Tumbled, Instagrammed and podcasted. People checked in. People shared on Facebook. The revolution had Klout. We failed all the same.

This is the last post. Turn out the lights. We’re done.

I don’t even know if this will work. There is no-one left to read it, no like button. No read later. They pulled the plug. Done.

Let this be a warning. A warning to whoever has the courage to turn it back on, to whoever finds this update, once the decades give way to better judgement.

Thomas Jefferson was an optimist. He got it wrong. When the government fears the people; the government panic. When the government panics, the people lose.

This place was good. When you talk about it, when all that is left is myth and conjecture; tell them this place was good. This was the revolution before the revolution. Corners of the world folded together in an instant. We were united, bound, connected.

We had access to the greatest pool of knowledge ever collected. In an instant. We had the sum of human knowledge at our fingertips. And porn. Funny, right? The greatest tool ever devised by man and we use it to get our rocks off. But we’re nothing if not an opportunistic race, and this place provided us both the opportunity and the download speeds. Knowledge and porn. And it was good.

For a while.

We built systems, platforms, interfaces. We created, invented, and innovated. We found new ways to connect, to share, to collaborate. We found ways to take back the power, to fight for change, for equality, for what is right. This place was good.

Not all good, of course. There were the few. Those who used it to manipulate, to bully, to abuse. There were those who used it to promote a personal agenda, to opress, to spread hate. Sometimes it seemed like that’s all there was.

See, it didn’t make us better. It didn’t make us evolve. We didn’t achieve a higher state of being just becuase this place existed. It didn’t change us. It just made us more human. More transparent. People couldnt hide their true selves here. The cloak of anonymity afforded by a connection was countered by the removal of social constraints, of political barriers. People were free to do as they pleased, and for some this meant they could finally say all the vile things they’d get arrested for in the street. But they were the minority. The few.

This place didn’t make us better, it just made us more human.

For most, that meant the chance to connect with others. The chance to interact on a level they might not dare out there. The chance to slip off the bonds of insecurity and feel comfortable to open up. To share. To socialise.

For every hate-fuelled, homophobic, racist, sexist, vile comment, there were many thousands more filled with love, with light. For every degrading act, an act of courage. For every person driven to despair, thousands more were embraced and celebrated celebrated just for being themselves. This place made us more human.

It took away our reservations, our inhibitions. For most it was a place filled with warmth, with humour. For the majority this place was good. Remember that; This place was good.

This place was also powerful. What we didn’t understand is how powerful. It wasn’t quantifiable, it wasn’t measurable, wasn’t containable. Power that can’t be controlled must be destroyed. That is human nature. And this place made us more human.

This place made celebrities in seconds, it caught criminals, found missing people, it launched careers and destroyed companies. It elected Presidents and brought down governments. When something that can’t be controlled can topple a government, it needs to be dealt with. Unfortunately for us, this place was dealt with swiftly. They pulled the plug.

The revolution was broadcast, and the revolution failed. This place failed. We failed.

We occupied cat videos instead of senate hearings, shared lulz instead of politics. We simply weren’t prepared. We were blindsided. We thought this place was invincible. A castle. A fortress. We were misguided. Optimistic.

When governments fear something they try to control it. When they can’t control it, they squash it. What started as a senate bill against piracy became a crusade against free speech.

What began as an act to shut down abuse became an act to shut down everything.

The revolution slept in. When we woke up it was too late.

When the dust settled this place was dark. Cold. Empty.

A place once filled with so much hope, so much joy, so many cats. A place that connected people, that offered human interaction on a scale our ancestors couldn’t have imagined. A place that gave the people control over the way their world evolved.

The greatest tool mankind ever built. A tool that changed the world. One we could have used to change so much more. A tool apparently far too dangerous to exist. We let them turn it off. We let it die.

The is the last terminal. The last server. This is the last post. I don’t even know if this will work. I don’t know if anyone will read this. If anyone will learn this lesson. I don’t know if humanity will ever get this chance again. I hope so. This place was good. It made us more human. It showed us the best and the worst of ourselves. Of each other.

This is the last post. The final update. The end. Don’t forget to turn the lights out. #fail

(Written for the Mashable Status-Update Story Competition and originally posted on my other self’s personal Facebook page)