We call it The Event. The moment when everything changed, when we lost writing. Ink refused to lock onto paper, and just drifted in the air like dark fog. Neither quill nor printing press could force the binding. Every time we opened a book, the letters sprang from the page and roosted in the rafters. Servers were wiped clean
I believe I’ve found the solution. Listen.
“Once upon a midnight dreary
While I pondered weak and weary….”
We will remember and recite.