Like a skilled native, the able seeker has become part of the web. He knows the smell of his forest: the foul smelling mud of the popups, the slime of a rotting commercial javascript. He knows the sounds of the web: the gentle rustling of the jpgs, the cries of the brightly colored mp3s that chase one another among the trees, singing as they go; the dark snuffling of the m4as, the different sounds and the rustling of the databases, the pathetic cry of the common user, a plaintive cooing that slides from one useless page down to the next until it dies away in a soft, sad, little moan. In fact, to all those who do not understand it, today's Internet looks like a dangerous, closed, hostile and boring commercial world. Yet if you stop and hear attentively, you may be able to hear the seekers, deep into the shadows, singing a lusty chorus of praise to this wonderful world of theirs -- a world that gives them everything they want. The web is the habitat of the seeker, and in return for his knowledge and skill it satisfies all his needs.