[ WP ] It is year 2453 and everything the mind seems capable of imagining and creating has been accomplished . The world is a mess . Someone in the slums creates something new , big or small your choice .

There's a hum, gentle but alive in the air. It gets darker from the dazzling spectacle of light above though, and as the ground nears it almost leaves everything else grey and drained of colour. A new spectrum of light itself, vehicles with an efficiency higher than 100 %, thought imaging, life sculpting. 
 
 
 Everything that people have thought of seems to have been invented, every creation already accomplished. Sure, the character of an already written story could have a single letter changed, or gender. But chances are, on the vastly incomprehensible archive of ini-electronic data, it's already been done. 
 
 
 Down at the ground, below the structures high and people above, sat a single man. His beard was long on his face, his eyes wrinkled at the end. His dark hair was beginning to gray, and his gray skin was beginning to darken. He lived here, among the tents and underprivileged not forced, but from choice. 
 
 
 Slowly, gently, he toyed with what was in his hands. A little box, complete with a ribbon and frayed blue paint in its texture. It sat neatly in his palms, and he looked up at the city above. You see, he had seen it. Rode the final wave of creative success, the forefront of a project that opened promised ocean of infinite successes. 
 
 
 You see, though, he had an insatiable hunger for the unknown. When the very medium used to traverse that infinite ocean can move infinite distances at infinite speeds itself, its size becomes much smaller than what you could have imagined. A famous quote back in the 20th century stated *Everything that could have been invented has been*. Ridiculed, of course, by those later. But he had been there. Been there when the realisation hit; there really was nothing more. 
 
 
 He looked back at the box. It had been years later, as his sister lay at his deathbed, that she handed him this gift. She whispered to him to open it once she was long gone. And that was when he realised, she'd released him from the curse. 
 
 
 For you see, it was not the unknown information that drew him toward it. It was the fact that it was unknown; never seen, and he realised then, never to be seen. Everything could be seen, has been created, thought of. But no one could tell him what was in the box.
