Oftentimes, the resulting damage goes unnoticed or is quickly forgotten.
Not this time.
You’ve lived here longer than you can remember. You enjoy the friendly neighborhood and the security it offers. Sometimes you think of moving, but nothing else feels like home. This is your home.
Over the years, you’ve accumulated many beautiful things. Some valuable, some not, yet each and every one holds deep meaning. They are arranged with care and attention to detail. You never tire of walking room to room admiring the story each arrangement tells. It’s a close-knit neighborhood, so you often invite people over to share your stories and they happily reciprocate.
One day you come home to find your landlords at the door holding a new lease. You sign it without a second thought; you are a valued tenant, and have always been treated with respect and courtesy. You use the key in anticipation and swing the door wide open. Something feels terribly wrong. As you walk inside a feeling of dread overcomes you. Your heart sinks. Everything that brought you happiness is smashed to pieces. Looking at the remains of what used to bring you comfort is almost too much to bear. You call your neighbors in a panic, but get only dial tones in return. You look out your broken window in shock. There is nothing there. Everything you held dear to you is gone.
The landlords unleashed a virtual tsunami, destroying established global communities and years of precious memories almost instantaneously. The joy many felt logging on each morning to greet their virtual neighbors was crushed out in seconds. The destruction was virtual, but the emotional devastation suffered by many victims was real.
This was an act of extreme cruelty by men who place more value on the dollar and the power it buys than humanity. Zev Weiss and Narendra Rocherolle discarded their long-time customers like yesterday’s trash – all for a fast buck and a chance at fleeting fame.
Events like this happen every day – and every day the silence grows louder.
Not this time.