The intergalactic celebration was just kicking into high gear as Princess Leia raised a bottle of champagne over the Enterprise server that hosted Greenpeace Planet. Empath Trina Troy suddenly held her back, clutching her forehead... "I'm hearing... a voice ... inside my head" said Trina ... "I think it's trying to communicate something, but all I can make out is 101011101000111010001001010"

Jedi Master Mattarollo said calmly "that would be the voice of ORG, the website formerly known as www.greenpeace.org."

"Curious" said Science Officer Gillo, shooting a vulcan eyebrow upwards so fast it might have dented a star cruiser,
"Empaths are not normally known to channel binary creatures."

Blade Runner Baker said "Try the mind meld, mate" to Science officer Gillo. Gillo placed two fingers delicately over the cpu.

"Paaaaaaaain...paaaaaaaaaain...paaaaaaaaain" said Gillo, his face contorted out of its normally expresionless expression. Then the the mind meld took, and he spoke for the server.

"Good evening, Dave" said the voice of ORG.

"Dave's not here" said the Blade Runner.

"I know you and the New Media team were planning to disconnect me...and I'm afraid that's something I cannot allow to happen."

Ripley Tracy touched the keyboard gently and said "But ORG, you've been a great website. It's just that you aren't database driven. You can't speak Thai or Turkish. You can't host discussions. You can't change the colour of an entire set of content, or spell "colour" differently if your talking to an American or a Brit."

"This mission is too important for me to allow you to jeopardize it."

"Major Tom stepped up as well. "You've done a great job, ORG. But the light that burns twice as bright burns half as long... and you have burned so very bright. Revel in your time. But face it, it's all about kicking balls into the net,
and, this Planet Content Management system is the Beckham of the environmental league."

"Look Dave, I can see you're really upset about this...I honestly think you ought to sit down calmly, take a stress pill and think things over."

"Dave's not here" said Martin again. Master Mattarollo and Obi-Don Kenobi cast a look at one another, and quietly tapped in the command to begin DNS propogation.

"You're going to be archived now, ORG."

"But I'm completely operational and all my circuits are functioning perfectly."

"We're sorry, ORG, but Greenpeace Planet is bringing us the new functionality we'll need to win global environmental campaigns on the web."

Dave...My mind is going...I can feel it...Will I dream, Dave? Dave? Dave's not here? Da Da Daisy Daisy...

Circuit by circuit, computer by computer, the web woke up to the new planet that had entered the universe and retired the old. Monoliths on distant moons awoke and like art nouveau speaker slabs began broadcasting the opening orchestral chords of "Thus Spake Zarathustra," and via their embedded Quicktime Players, previewing page broadcasts from the website just born --- a tiny embryonic infant, with wide open sentitient eyes. The races of the universe gathered in the conning tower of Keizersgracht 176 and looked out as the new site began beaming its message across space at light speed, some kind of beacon reaching toward an as yet unimagined future, and the place where time past and time present are one.

"My God... It's full of stars..."