Today : When Net Was Young A long time ago...

[from NEW SCIENTIST (UK), 18 November 1995] [PS - I stole the title from Old Mole.]

San Francisco is where the Net was born and where some people now think it has evolved to a higher plane of being. Michelle Knott drops in on the coolest cafes in town.

<< You can call me MAK >>

EXPLODING Boy wants to know if there are any women who need a sex slave. PDot threatens to call the system administrator if he doesn't stop *flirting*. Meanwhile, the Dangerous Cooks have an ugly confession to make--they're actually yuppies. It's all there in the public chat that's flying around from all corners of San Francisco on SFNet, the citywide computer network where the "kewl" people hang out.

SFNet was born some five years ago. Now there are 29 cafes around the city linked up to the network, and more than 2000 private subscribers who join in from home. Further south, a cafe in Los Angeles installed its first public SFNet terminal in September.

The service does not provide a full Internet connection or the flashy graphics of the World Wide Web. Instead, its charm lies in the fact that it is local--many of these people know each other IRL (in real life). For only 25 cents for six minutes, anyon e can drop into their nearest cafe and join in. Alternatively, homebodies pay $7 a month.

I'm in the Muddy Waters Coffee Shop at 15th and Church Street, looking for someone to show me around the system. Marly (short for his online nickname of Marlboro Mania) is ready to oblige. Sporting a bandanna, goatee and pierced extremities, he is friendly, helpful and--best of all--doesn't think I'm trying to pick him up.

I decide to use my initials, MAK, as my online nickname--a wise move, according to Marly. "No one can tell you're a woman," he says. "Women often get harassed on here."

Most of the banter is pretty inane. PDot's feeling sorry for herself because she's stuck at home with a cold, while someone else says it should be a "shoot a fascist pig in the head week" following an incident a couple of nights ago when local police shot dead an unarmed man suspected of drug dealing. It's just after 2 pm on a gorgeous day, so I send my first message: "Why aren't we all out in the sunshine?" Aria says she can't understand it either. Fast Eddie *is* actually supposed to be working--as long as he keeps tapping at his computer, his boss is happy. Exploding Boy doesn't like the sun, but wants to know the difference between a police car and a hedgehog. It's an old joke and I'm happy to supply the answer.

Whenever a new person logs on, they have the chance to write a biography of themselves, which the others then call up. I hadn't bothered with that and I get a private message from Christine Death, who wants to know why she can't "see" me. Flattered by the attention, I instantly forget one of the golden rules of online communications--lots of people who present themselves as women are actually men. I tell Christine all about myself in a private reply. Luckily, I find out later that Christine is a genui ne woman with a baby on the way.

Marly has suggested I visit a bar called NocNoc, where I can meet these people f2f (face to face). Christine, who is still the only person online who knows MAK is a woman, thinks NocNoc will be fine: "It gets pretty crowded but no one will fuck with you."

It takes all kinds

The idea of meeting all these people is intriguing. Wayne Gregori, who founded SFNet, says they are an eclectic lot. At the cavernous Coffee Zone on Haight and Masonic, tie-dye, dreadlocks and baggy clothes are the order of the day, apart from one punk in purple trousers and a Sid Vicious T-shirt. Down the street, the population of the Horseshoe Coffee Shop seem to favour more black leather, tattoos and body piercing. Some of them look downright scary. Across town at Brainwash, the clientele is much more mixed--but what would you expect at San Francisco's only online cafe-cum-launderette? As well as the more outlandish dressers, Brainwash even attracts San Francisco's nearest equivalent to Good Ol' Boys, complete with baseball caps and beer bellies.

I head for NocNoc. It's 8:30 pm and the place is just starting to fill up. Marly sits in a corner, surrounded by friends. There's Old Mole, a tubby [Editor's Note: Brit. for "voluptuous"?], charming 40-something. At first he tries to convince me that he's a pimp, but actually he's something in print production. Interval Anachronous (mercifully shortened to I.A.) is a virtual reality hotshot who has just set up his own company. Venus Anemone works as a spiritual counselor. I.A. and Venus met online over four years ago and have had an on-off relationship ever since. "I knew her mind for two months before we ever met in person," says I.A.

Lanky, long-haired Mr Potatohead works for *Wired*, while Exploding Boy turns out to be an emaciated, six-foot punk with green hair. He is a writer. "Good writers must consume their own bodyweight in gin each day," he insists, which probably explains why he's shaking so badly. He's still on the lookout for someone to dominate him, but I explain that I forgot to pack my high heels and handcuffs.

The only people I find using their own names are Kate and Amy, and that's because they are not yet Netters. But they're anxious to get in on the act. Kate filled in her SFNet subscription forms today, and Amy will subscribe as soon as she gets a computer. It's definitely the thing to do. In fact, the first question people ask each other as they mingle around the bar is "Are you a Netter?"

The conversation meanders and the volume gradually increases. Someone's mother has just got religion in a big way. O.J. and Forman should be locked in a cell together and left to fight it out. Has anybody seen the latest martial arts fantasy movie? Isn't it annoying when Gregori's toddler gets into the computer room at his house and jams up the SFNet server. All deep stuff.

"Some people say that Netting can damage your social life," says Snee, a loud, friendly young woman. [Editor's Note: "I am NOT friendly!", bellows SNE ITS ME.] "They're totally wrong. We organise loads of stuff that way. If I want to go somewhere, I can just dial up and see if anyone else wants to come along. And sometimes I don't know people well enough to give them my phone number, but we can still keep in touch by Netting."

Marly says, "When you see us all together, it might be hard to understand. Skinheads, black men, punks, lesbians, gays, you'll find them all here. Netting is a great way to meet people, especially if you're shy."

Willfully blind self-indulgent nebbish or amusingly quirky old coot? And how bout that local sports team? Discuss among yourselves.

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All names are fake, most places are real, the author is definitely unreliable but it's all in good fun. Yep. © 1998-1999 Lighthouse for the Deaf. All rights reserved and stuff. The motto at the top of the page is a graffito I saw on Brunswick Street in Melbourne.