The Digital World is a world where dreams come true. I don't mean the ones where you get to be a hero and make friends and save the world, although that happened as well. I mean the one where you get enslaved by a giant teddy bear, the one where you fall through a bottomless pit until an alien transfers you to his pocket dimension if you agree to join his cult, and the one where you're walking in a castle and gravity stops working properly, so you and your friends both see one another as upside-down.

I've spent a year exploring this world. Or was it only two days? I stopped it from distorting our world and helped save it from destruction twice, maybe three times, because for all I tried to help my successors in 2002 I'm not sure if I did enough for it to count. I met my closest friend in that world, and restored his memory (eventually) from a backup field that I personally programmed. And despite six years of research, I have not yet begun to comprehend the Digital World.

Officially, I am compiling this report on behalf of a large, international technology company, so that it can attempt to time, prepare for, and mitigate the risk associated with the next digimon incident. In reality, there's absolutely nothing a technology company of all things can do when a digimon goes haywire, and the best way to minimize societal disruption is to maintain analog or pen-and-paper backups.

This report is in truth a personal favor from the CEO, who saw how shaken up I was by the incident with Ordinemon and figured the best way to cheer me up was to allow me to research what happened on company time. (Not that it's much different from what I normally do at work anyway, and perhaps my most profitable invention for the company was discovered by accident in the course of my Digital World research. But I digress.)

If I'm truly writing it for anyone, it's Takaishi Takeru, my good friend and fellow Chosen Child. He had told me he was beginning to write a history of the most recent digimon incident, but although he had personally witnessed most major events and supplemented it with extensive interviews (at least with the survivors, or those among them he could reach) he detected a certain lack of understanding of why everything had gone the way it did, and of the world underlying our adventures. Takeru had asked Patamon many questions, but we had quickly learned on File Island that the mere fact of being a digimon does not necessarily endow one with any superior knowledge about the Digital World as a whole, and most of them his partner was unable to answer.

Homeostasis, even if they remained willing to co-operate with Hikari (and vice versa), had never exactly been free with information; only when frustration at our appointed role six years ago grew vast enough to endanger our mission had they unveiled the origins of their conflict with the Dark Masters, and what we had been chosen to do. Gennai was also unavailable as a source; indeed, the circumstances which led to him being unavailable had done a great deal to create the recent crisis. And his dark counterpart or corrupted new self – whatever it was – only provided information in the form of taunts while simultaneously summoning one Ultimate digimon or another to try to kill us.

Which left me as his best remaining source. And perhaps, although I was loath to contemplate it, the single mortal being who knew the most about the Digital World. (Or was that Tentomon? He had been with me through almost everything, and sometimes seemed to grasp aspects of the Digital World's common sense which I lacked.) Yet there was so much neither of us understood. I explained what I knew, but it wasn't enough, wasn't nearly enough; it let him flesh out his narrative, but so much of its foundation remained incomplete.

Searching for a better answer to his inquiry, I decided to pay a visit to Kentarumon in the Temple of the Digivice.

The stele Kentarumon had brought to my attention, now on display in the Temple of the Digivice, had been discovered weeks ago in the Village of Beginnings. I had never seen anything like it on my previous, admittedly brief journeys there, and was fairly certain that it, or at least its top layer, had only been exposed because of the reboot. Imagine how much else must lie buried in File Island!

Although my compatriots among the chosen children still require a decoder, I had been reading so many digimon letters while researching the Digital World's underlying code that, to me, the text might as well have been written in Japanese.

"In the beginning, there was only the soulless creator, Demiurge, Idea, the true figure of the world, and only shapeless, chaotic souls existing in the entire universe. Demiurge does not know of the existence that created it, nor the existence of the soul, nor even of Idea. The world he created was merely a shadow of the true world."

I had no doubt that I had accurately grasped the words carved into the stele; it was the meaning that puzzled me. It was simple enough to equate the souls to the digimon, and Idea to the Digital World itself. But was Homeostasis the Demiurge? They never exactly seemed to comprehend what they were manipulating, that there were living beings who would have to carry out its choices, or how much would be lost when the world was rebooted. Would that make Yggdrasil Idea? I had encountered the name Yggdrasil before the incident as a synonym for the Digital World's host server.

Or was it the other way around? Homeostasis' association with balance made it a decent candidate for Idea, if some kind of harmony was meant to underlie the Digital World, and Yggdrasil destroyed as easily as it created.

Or were there billions of Demiurges, each typing ideas they did not grasp into computers, unknowingly creating the Digital World in the process? Did I have a soul? Did the text even relate to the Digital World, or to the entire Quantum Sea, including my own world? And who could have possibly created the Demiurge? Earth and the Digital World were certainly connected, but which was the true world, and which was the shadow?

Or was it nothing more than an old digimon myth?

I voiced some of these questions to Kentarumon, but he was every bit as flummoxed as I was, contributing only the occasional nod or uncertain reply. Tentomon stood by (well, more like hovered) patiently, but had nothing to contribute either. "I'm sorry, Koushirou. I wish Gennai was around to answer your questions."

"Don't worry about it," I reassured him. Even if he had still been reachable, Gennai had many limits as a source, both to his knowledge base and what he was willing to share. He had given me many cryptic prophecies, but a coherent exegesis was another matter entirely. "Then again, that gives me an idea. Thank you."

I haven't heard from the real Gennai since before the Meicoomon incident, except perhaps in the vanishingly unlikely case that the entity wearing his appearance who attacked us in the Digital World was somehow a corrupted version of the real thing. Even if his actions hadn't been wholly at odds with everything I knew of Gennai's character, there were at least six individuals in the Digital World who shared his looks (likely many more) and Sora had informed me that the face we saw was one of many he possessed. But I did still have Gennai's e-mail, and I do know where he lives.

Or where he lived six years ago, in any case. Before Spiral Mountain, before the world ended, before it was rebooted.

I booted up a program installed on my laptop, which was originally developed by Nanomon but later used within the D-3. The program in question allows an individual to use a web address to warp, if not to one's exact location, than at least to the originating sector of the Digital World. It's something like a hyperlink, or at least what a hyperlink would be in a world where digital data takes a physical form. If I had figured out the underlying principles back during our first adventure, it would've saved us an eternity of hiking.

I said my goodbyes to Kentarumon, inputted Gennai's e-mail address, clicked the link, and was brought to the edge of the lake where I had first met him in person. Unfortunately, there was no rainbow beacon this time, nor did the waters part to open up a staircase; I saw only a purple lake, and could only presume his house was at the bottom.

"None of your forms can swim, can they Tentomon?" I knew the answer, but had to ask anyway.

"No, and Iori's still in the hospital, so Submarimon's out."

"And Jou's still so busy with his studies, the Meicoomon incident set him back even further. I don't want to ask him, not for something like this."

"Jou's busy… but if anything Gomamon's bored. And we don't need him to evolve to explore this place. I think you should send him an e-mail."

At Tentomon's suggestion, I sat down, typed out my request, and waited. Just as my partner had predicted, Gomamon responded within minutes, and was eager to help out. If his paws could operate a computer instead of dictating to Jou, I suspect he would've arrived even sooner.

But the lake itself was quite deep, so I continued waiting by the purple water's edge, spending most of my time searching fruitlessly for some way to image the lake on my computer. I had explained what I needed to Gomamon to the best of my ability, and was certain he would do likewise with what he saw, but still I wanted to see whatever remained of his house with my own eyes.

Unfortunately, these efforts were fruitless, and I would have to settle an hour later for his description: "Looks like there was a fight or something, all his books and maps and stuff got knocked over. The windows weren't broken or anything, but my paws can't open doors so I couldn't get inside for a closer look. I don't think Gennai's home."

At the time, I was certain that, somewhere in Gennai's deserted residence, amidst his personal library and immense series of notes, lay the answers I needed. But whatever mechanism he used to open the lake was beyond even my grasp of the code underlying the Digital World, and Hida Iori, after his losing battle and long period held in stasis, was still in no shape to use Submarimon to help out.

So I went home and, for the next few days, began to put this project aside for a lack of relevant leads. When I heard the doorbell ring, I assumed it would be Takeru, coming to inquire about my lack of progress. Or failing that, my parents, Yagami Taichi, or one of the other Odaiba Chosen Children.

I can say that I was correct, at least for one value of "Odaiba Chosen Children". The distressed, exhausted girl at my door indeed owned a digivice, and had once lived in Odaiba. Yet I must admit I'd be lying if I were to say that I actually expected an unannounced visit from Mochizuki Meiko, with two suitcases behind her, as if she had rushed here straight from the train.

"G-good to see you, Koushiro-san," she said with a bow, holding out a packed folder of papers.

"What happened?" I asked as I opened the door – I may not be the best at reading people, but even I could tell something was wrong.

"H-here," she said, handing her folder over to me. "I think these documents may be of use to you."

"How'd you get these?" I asked, impressed after only a brief glance at the letterhead. What she had in her possession was historic – it must have been almost a complete archive of the Information Strategy Section of the Information Management Office's records, judging by its large size. This section, part of the Incorporated Administrative Agency within the National Data Processing Bureau, was concerned entirely with one particular kind of "Information" management; the term as used in the title is a euphemism for digimon.

It had covered up (and probably facilitated; I'd have to read the documents to be certain) the disappearance of most of our younger comrades. It had also employed two former Chosen Children, one of whom had engaged in a lengthy plot to reboot the Digital World to resurrect her deceased partner. And, of course, it was quite closely associated with Meicoomon.

"My father left a pile of them lying around the house. I made copies at the convenience store and brought them to you as soon as I could."

"You came all the way from Tottori to give me this?" I wanted to launch into an explanation about e-mail, scanning, and flash drives, but thought better of it; given that this information had been stolen from a government department, there were risks associated with sending it through the internet. "Thank you."

"After what I've read, I don't want to go home."

"Do you need me to open the gate for you? I don't have a bed or anything in here, but if nothing else I know some places in the Digital World to find shelter."

I sat down at my desk and opened the folder as I asked. The file pulled to the front, detailing Professor Mochizuki's experiments with Meicoomon, offered a perfect explanation of what was behind her current emotional state; he was not trying to stop his daughter's partner from going berserk.

"Don't worry, I'll be staying over at Mimi's tonight," Meiko said. "Speaking of which, I should probably check in with her. Have a good afternoon."

I thanked her again, bid her farewell, and promised to make use of the information to the best of my ability. With no one around to distract me, I then absorbed myself in reading.

There was a great deal regarding Meicoomon which I had hoped these files would illuminate. How had a shard of Apocalymon entered the Real World in the first place, and within a digimon at that? Shouldn't our victory six years ago have fixed the distortion and firmly separated the human and Digital Worlds? Initially, I had assumed it was something like how we managed to go home through the eclipse, but this solution was unsatisfying; the same forces that restored the Digital World itself from Spiral Mountain and from nothingness should have mercilessly quarantined his data.

The main revelation I received from the documents Meiko had brought to me was that the Firewall between the worlds was fading. The one which had sealed Apocalymon away before our troublesome predecessors' adventure was brighter than the one of 1999, and the one that came back after our victory burned less hot. It weakened every time items passed between worlds, every time we used the Digital Gate.

We had been so happy to restore the Digital World's memories, so sad to lose a beloved comrade, that (if the more recent documents were to be believed) none of us realized that Homeostasis had failed after all. Meicoomon had existed for long enough to finally obliterate the Firewall, and even the reboot didn't do enough to restore it. (Aided, no doubt, by the fact that said reboot happened before Meicoomon had evolved to its strongest forms; could we have saved it if we had found a way to win sooner?)

Apart from this, the Information Strategy Section's research records also contained volumes of information, both about the Digital World and their own secret activities, which I had previously discovered in the course of my research, as well as independent confirmation of things I already strongly suspected. And many documents which, although not particularly related to my research into either the Meicoomon incident or the origins and cosmology of the Digital World itself, were of immense value to historians.

Or perhaps, at this point in time, it would be more accurate to say "a historian". For I am only aware of one individual attempting to document the history of the Digital World, and this research, apart from satisfying my own immense curiosity, was being undertaken to answer questions he asked of me.

It was time to share what I found with Takeru.

"Wait, you're saying the Firewall's gone? What do we do?"

I had walked over to Takeru's apartment, given him the Information Strategy Section's folder, and taken the time to share with him what I had discovered so far. I cannot say I was surprised by his distressed reaction; frankly, some of his questions had occurred to me as well, and I wished I could give him better answers.

"We lost after all this and didn't realize? Damn it, what was the point? What were we even fighting for?" Takeru asked, throwing his hat to the ground in frustration. I had to sympathize; he had fought longer than anyone, and the distortions he fought against seemed certain to overtake us despite all our efforts, all he had sacrificed.

"You saved us, didn't you?" Patamon chimed in.

"I want to see it," Takeru said. "Or whatever's there now. Can it really be gone?"

"Even if it is, I suspect whatever is in its former location will offer us a clue," I answered, and Takeru immediately held up his D-3.

"Digital Gate, Open!"

There has never been a Digital Gate that led directly to the Firewall. It is located deep within the Ancient Dino Region, way beyond the Temple of the Digivice, in a place where the normal rules of space and time cease to apply.

Takeru and Patamon rode with me in AtlurKabuterimon's immense insectoid hands, HolyAngemon being far smaller and less adept at carrying riders. As we flew closer to our destination, the lush forest which had surrounded the temple gave way first to a desolate graveyard, then to a seemingly endless green wireframe on featureless black ground, as if the world below us had been replaced by a glitched video game. We continued moving forward in the direction we had been going before the wireframe appeared, trusting that the map I had programmed into my computer (which still worked, at least for now, although I doubted it would function for long in a place like this) was accurate.

"You sure about this, Koushirou-han?" our ride asked me.

"I'm worried too, this place gives me the chills," Takeru added. Patamon, for all the courage he showed in the face of the powers of darkness, had hidden himself under his partner's hat; the ground turning into a featureless black grid was too much for even him to take.

"Just don't deviate course, not even an inch. The emptiness is bound to end eventually." I would've liked to pull up a map program on my laptop, or even just the navigation feature of my digivice, but the former had already run out of battery and the latter showed only two dots (me and Takeru, I was certain) in an endless void.

Eventually, after what felt like a small eternity, we sighted a Birdramon (not Sora's) and Meramon in the distance. The wireframe gave way to something that was at least solid ground, if not a type of terrain I had ever witnessed before, in either the Real World or the Digital. The strange type of land that the Meramon stood on and the Birdramon hovered above replaced the wireframe, and stretched beyond the two digimon as far as I could see. It was white and blue in color, with roughly the consistency of pillows or the giant plush blocks which dot the Village of Beginnings, and was decorated by a dazzling array of symbols. I recognized a small fraction of the symbols as either digimon letters or commands in the world's underlying computer code, but the other 90 percent were unknown to me, and if anything demonstrated how much I had left to learn.

The two guardians waved us through and we continued onward. AtlurKabuterimon struggled to fly through the increasingly hot and distorted air, so he landed and devolved to Tentomon, and we were forced to proceed on foot.

What we saw when we reached what I had registered before our journey in my laptop as the Firewall's location, however, was not some awful dimension which had sheltered Apocalymon, a Dark Inferno to match the Dark Ocean. Nor was even a flickering flame left of the wall itself. The Firewall was gone, and in its place was a giant Ferris Wheel, Fuji TV, and the Rainbow Bridge, amidst the many smaller or less distinctive buildings of this very familiar landscape.

Odaiba.

Home.

We walked back into the Real World through the spot where the Firewall had once stood and parted ways. Takeru returned with Patamon to his apartment, and I began to walk back to my office. I'm not sure if it was the heat which remained from the Firewall that was making me so thirsty, or simply the fact that we had traveled through the Ancient Dino Region and my body had begun to feel the effects. But in any case, there was a vending machine on the way, so I stopped there for a drink.

The machine was a bright, lime green, instead of the usual blue, and I frankly didn't recognize most of the products, while others, like the plug-ins and HP disks, seemed of little use to anyone on the streets of Tokyo. But the Nume Cola, Nume Tea, Nume Juice, and Nume-flavored water were at least recognizable types of product, and I was thirsty enough to give it a try.

I put some yen into the coin slot and pressed the button for Nume Tea, and wondered if it was accurate to describe it as a machine at all; rather than an automated mechanism, a Numemon grabbed the item from the rack and popped out of the machine, holding the item on its outstretched tongue. I thanked it, opened the tea, and began to drink.

The tea tasted less grassy than I expected from green tea, more slimy and syrupy, although I could still identify the base product. I wasn't sure if I'd make a habit of drinking it, and still prefer Oolong tea in ordinary circumstances, but honestly it wasn't bad.

As I drank, there was no escaping the conclusion that the worlds were becoming intertwined. Once it had been our world's artifacts inexplicably falling into the Digital World, with only digimon going the other way; now, it seemed if anything the other way around. Homeostasis had lost, the balance between the dimensions had been forever broken, and in time the Digital World would absorb our own.

Inoue Miyako had once described the Digital World to me as a world which integrates human emotions and digital data. I understand the esoteric programming language underlying the Digital World extremely well, unique grammar and all; if I had never learned to utilize it, than perhaps Tentomon would have never evolved into Kabuterimon to begin with.

It is an old adage of beginner programming that computers do exactly what you tell them to do, even if it's not what you want them to do. But what command or function could have possibly created a shadow world packed with all the monsters and gods of human imagination and then some? Who could have possibly programmed beings as thoughtful and whole as Tentomon? Perhaps the consciousness which humans and digimon share is simply an emergent property of intelligence, artificial or otherwise, something that just happens when you get enough circuits or neurons together.

Yet human emotions are often opaque to me, and although I am admittedly below average in that regard, I do wonder if there is anyone in either world who can truly grasp the hopes and dreams of all humanity.

In truth, I have begun to believe that there is something fundamentally unknowable about the Digital World, something about the logic it is founded on which grows further from comprehension the more one thinks they understand. Or at the very least, something about it which simply does not operate on a purely rational basis, but on the logic of ideals and dreams.

The Digital World shall absorb this one, but not on Yggdrasil's terms. Humans and digimon shall grow together as partners, just like Yagami Hikari and the children abducted by Oikawa had so memorably wished for, just like all of us Chosen Children, I think, on some level had dreamed.

I do not expect to ever completely answer my questions about its structure in a satisfactory manner, but I have a whole lifetime to try, and perhaps it is more fascinating to always have another mystery when the first one ends. A part of me wonders if my own wishes were what produced this sort of unknowability in the world's structure, for a solved mystery grows boring.

The world will be Digital.

As I sip this Nume Tea with Tentomon by my side, I wonder if, after all we've gone through, it is possible to imagine a better fate. I believe it is not, for if it was, after defeating Yggdrasil and inadvertently sidelining Homeostasis, perhaps we would have used the collective powers of our imagination to already bring it about.