In the beginning…

There was only a gray area. A mass, marked off by four right angles, left to wander a vast world known as the internet. While it did long for adventure, this muted, plain, unadorned box feared the dark, digital alleys and disheveled databases that might lurk just beyond its tiny home.

So it sat.

It sat and waited for a sure sign that there were no electrical errors or tubed terrors waiting to feed. For several seconds it waited (eons in small-gray-box-time). It noticed no abnormalities in its surroundings. The humble, gray scroll-bar still stood to the gray mass’ left. A large blue box hung high above the mass’ head. There were no strange, pixilated towers plowing through the mass’ black webpage background. No tiny arrows fluttering about like the ones in old pixels’ tales. No, there was noth…

Wait! There was something strange!

The mass squinted its blobby eyes and peered closer. There, just beyond the scroll-bar, came a parade of squiggles. Dozens of squiggles. All dancing.

“This can’t be,” the gray mass exclaimed. “What bizarre dancers! What a foreign spectacle!”

From out of the darkness, the squiggles danced. Leaping and bounding. There were squiggles everywhere. They frolicked and cheered. They jumped and sprang off one another as though they were made of taffy.

The gray mass was thrilled. It wished to join in the festivities. It too longed to bounce and spring as though it were nothing more than a renegade pogo stick.

The gray mass laughed deep from its belly (assuming it has a belly). It could not remember feeling so much glee. Here were marvelous creatures from beyond the darkness. The darkness that it had judged to be too horrifying. It was too afraid. Now, looking out upon the sea of squiggles, it only felt silly for not taking its adventure.

Clearing its throat, the gray mass spoke. “Tell me, tiny visitors, what are all of you?”

The dancing stopped. Seconds—eons—passed without a word. The squiggles were frozen as though an invisible blizzard had ripped through their festivities. All was silent.

Until, it leaped forth. A tiny one. It was no bigger than four pixels. It sprang upon the tops of its fellow kind; only stopping inches away from the gray mass.

“We’re letters, silly.”

“Letters?” the gray mass replied. “What are letters?’

The letter laughed, “What are letters? That is a funny question!” It glanced to the other letters before continuing, “What could you possibly be?”

“I’m a mass.”

“A mass? That is a boring thing to be!”

“Then what should I be?”

The letter thought. For sixteen seconds, it thought.

“Perhaps, we could name you,” it finally said.

The mass was skeptical. “You? Name me?”

“Of course,” the letter cheered, “we will name you the first four letters that leap upon your belly.”

The gray mass contemplated this idea. It knew that having a new name would be exciting. After all, the programmer had never offered it a true name.

“That sounds fine,” the gray mass agreed.

Before it could blink, the mass saw the sea of letters begin to rumble. Hundreds of letters began to jump upon the tops of one antoher’s heads; pushing forth so that they could be the first four to land atop the gray mass’s abdomen.

“That tickles,” the gray mass exclaimed. It could feel the letters canvas its body like a tent.

“Tada!”

The gray mass looked down. There, resting casually upon the gray mass’ tummy, sat four tiny letters.

The gray mass smiled. “Blog,” it said, “Call me Blog.”