And what of narrative flow? There is still movement, but in hyperspace's dimensionless infinity, it is more like endless expansion ; it runs the risk of being so distended and slackly driven as to lose its centripetal force, to give way to a kind of static low-charged lyricism -- that dreamy gravityless lost-in-space feeling of the early sci-fi films. How does one resolve the conflict between the reader's desire for coherence and closure and the text's desire for continuance, its fear of death? Indeed, what is closure in such an environment? If everything is middle, how do you know when you are done, either as reader or writer? If the author is free to take a story anywhere at any time and in as many directions as she or he wishes, does that not become the obligation to do so?
When people enter the age of hypertext, there are much more possibilities in the content. It is interesting to think about the ending of a hypertext story online. When should the author stop writing the story? Or simply where to stop it? Many online authors update their stories weekly, and thus between each updates, there emerges lots of interaction between the authors and their audiences. Normally, the reader’s comments in the previous chapter could have some impact on the content in next chapter. The comment could inspire the author to think differently to some extent, and the desire from the author always drives the author to write more. Here, Coover raises an interesting question: Who is the real author here?