by Extra

He has his headphones on ('Ministry'), he can't hear his parents calling him. Fortunately for his sister, they stop trying. They say, "It's just a phase". He doesn't think so. They don't really regret buying him the computer (top-of-the-line Amiga with 9600baud modem). He doesn't just play games on it like most kids. They tell his father's mother, "It's educational" when she asks worried questions about his staying in his room all afternoon and evening on Christmas day, his pale skin ("He won't die of radiation sickness, we bought him a protective screen"), his not having a girlfriend. They also figure that he's getting used to what he'll be doing for a career anyway. They're probably right.

TODAY'S BBS TOPIC: NANOTECHNOLOGY I don't know why these geeks think we'll have progammable matter in fifty years. We'll be lucky if we have those little machines for cleaning arteries by then. These dorks just read SF and Omni. They never bother with any real science. I mention a Scientific American article and most of them haven't even heard of it. No one even asks for the reference! One time this guy was going on about how some California company wascoming out with a computer that could convert speech to text. I pressed him for sources and he says he heard about it on another Bulletin Board. I said, "That's it? You heard about it?" He backpedalled and said he read about it somewhere too, he couldn't remember where. People on the Bulletin Boards don't like it when you say someone's full of shit, they eat up rumors like that, so I just suggested he write down where he reads about a quantum leap in technology next time.

His mother peaks in on him but he still has his headphones on ('Skinny Puppy') so he doesn't hear her. He had a padlock on the door but that was where his parents drew the line. He said he didn't want anyone stealing his computer and she said she didn't want him to die because he was locked up in his room. They compromised and got a porch light with a motion detector (the neighbor's cat triggers it all the time.)

His back is to the door so all she can really see of him is a silhouette created by the multi-colored screen. She's glad they paid the extra money for a color screen, it doesn't make him look nearly so sickly as some of those screens at work can. The headphones he's wearing are a huge old pair her father-in-law gave him. He said he liked them because they were 'retro-chic" and because they made things sound like they're in a big hall. She thought they made him look like something from a fifties horror film but was relieved he seemed happy with them. Last Christmas he circled a stereo system which could make any room sound like a nightclub, a stadium or St. Paul's cathedral.

His silhouette is surrounded by the neat stacks of disk cases, printouts, and computer magazines. She looks over at the right side of his room where the only orderly thing is the shadow cast by the Venetian blinds on the bed. Starts to go to the bed to pick up the socks and underwear off it but his voice stops her.

"Hi Mom, I don't need anything, thanks." Mom still hasn't figured out the LED I rigged up on my computer is triggered by the door opening. The light doesn't go off so I turn around and pull my 'phones off one ear. "What is it Mom?"

"Nothing dear, I just wanted to see how you're doing." She's doing her cheerful smile but her fingers are twisted up. I'd better appease her.

"I'm great Mom. Is dinner soon?" I'm sure my face looks completely apple-pie but it's only Mom.

"In about forty-five minutes. Will you come down and sit at the table with us? We're having fried chicken!" She looks hopeful but she knows the chicken will hook me.

"Sure, Mom. I was gonna come down tonight anyway." I lie. Her shoulders drop about a foot and her hands let go of each other.

"Super honey, see you in a little bit!"

TODAY'S BBS TOPIC: VIRTUAL REALITY Some guys are talking about how pretty soon everyone will be able to afford it and how they'll probably be able to just plug their computers straight into their heads, not mess around with the TV goggles and Nintendo-style feedback gloves, soon too. Just like William Gibson wrote. Real Cyberpunk. Real bullshit. Most of them think it's just like plugging in a phone. We can't even replace a heart with one of those Jarvik artificial ones without a good chance of the body rejecting it and these geeks are talking about wetware in ten years. One guy comes on ("Memo Rex") who says he's actually used a V.R. rig. The text starts scrolling up at about twice the speed with everyone's questions but I can do about seventy-five words per so I get mine in pretty quickly. He doesn't sound like he's bullshitting so I get him to switch from the CB Board to a one-on-one line by saying I want to interview him for a magazine.

M.R. whats your name?

D.A. i use my hacker name, doctor alter, for my articles. you used
 one of vpl research's set-ups, right?  do you think theirs is the
 best?  how slow was it?

M.R. yeah it was vpl.  what do you mean by 'best'?  nasa has better
 goggles and body equipment and matsushita has a faster processing
 speed but i theink the vpl has the best graphics.  its hard to say
 how slow it was.  i clapped my hands and heard it before i saw it.
 thats about as well as i can describe it.

D.A. did you do the thing where you're in the body of a lobster?
 did the program ever crash?  how about lanier, did you see him?

M.R. no, lanier hasn't been doing much since the rolling stone
 interview, just playing guru and hanging out whith timothy leary
 andshit.  i didn't do the lobster thing but when my hand went out
 of my field of vision it didnt come back in where it shouldve.
 sort of like picking up your mouse and putting it down somewhere
 else

D.A. that asshole leary is going to get v.r. banned with that
 'electronic acid' bullshit.

M.R. sorry about the pause i was flipping over my tape.  you ever
 hear of T-99? its belgain techno stuff a freind in luxembourg sent.

D.A. that's the stuff that has enough bass to pulverize kidney
 stones, right?  i'd love to hear some but the local record store
 isn't exactly progressive and i can't get into the cool clubs.

M.R. cant get in? how old are you?  what magazine is this for?
 Oops, I better cut this off.

D.A.  listen, rex, i gotta go my editor just called. i'll be in
 touch.

I get out of the one-on-one and drop back into the CB. They're talking about using V.R. for telerobotics. At least most of them have figured out that the robotic hardware is and will be a lot further along than any sort of 'artificial intelligence.' Boy, what I could do with a robot. Shut up Doc, you're sounding like those Board babies.

He suddenly realizes he's smelling the chicken and bolts for the door almost pulling the stereo at the other end of his headphones off the shelf. The plug comes out first, though, and suddenly his room vibrates with screams, thumping bass, and syncopated noise. His mother almost drops the green beans in fright but the cacophony stops just as suddenly when she looks up at the ceiling. She wonders whether she should say anything about it. No, she decides, she doesn't want to ruin the family dinner together.

He's downstairs and at the table the next moment, reaching for the basket of greasy chicken.

"John, what was that noise we just heard?" His father asks in his serious but not harsh tone. His sister looks at her plate and snorts a laugh. His mother looks at her husband with her 'please-not-now' look , upturned eyebrows, pursed lips, and watery eyes. John doesn't pause and piles three pieces of the golden manna on his plate. He hates his name. Even a geek name like 'Eugene' would be more interesting than 'John'.

"Sorry, Dad, the 'phones pulled out of the jack."

"Don't you think you're hurting your ears listening to that stuff at that volume?" his father continues.

"Well, actually the content doesn't really matter, just the decibels. 'That stuff' you listen to, The Four Temptations or what ever would be just as harmful." he responds, getting a little annoyed. "It doesn't matter anyway because the headphones make it a lot quieter."

"I'm sure John knows how loud he should play his music." his mother says, trying to prevent any real conflict. "John, would you mind putting your napkin on your lap?"

He looks down and notices the table setting for the first time . His mother has put out the quilted placemats (the ones with the little blue flowers), the 'good' plates, the 'good' silverware and even the cloth napkins which are almost the same shade of blue as the 'mats. He unfolds the napkin once and thanks god she didn't put out the candles.

"John, do you know where there might be some matches? I wanted to have some candles out but I couldn't find any." his mother says. "It's times like this when I wish I had a gas stove. I remember those power failures we had in Chicago. We had gas there but I just don't know what we'd do here if anything happened. "

"There's nothing to worry about, Barb. " his father says. "We're a part of one of the most reliable power grids in the country." John doesn't notice how much he and his father can sound alike. His sister does.

"Yeah, Mom, no problem." he manages to add through a mouthful of chicken.

"John, when are you going to fix my radio like you said you would?" his sister interjects defiantly.

"When you have the money to pay me to." he snaps back, pausing over another bite.

"You can trust your sister. Just fix it now and she'll pay you back when she can, alright?" his father says, annoyed the subject has come up again.

"He's never gonna do it. Why can't I just get a new one." his sister whines.

"Because you know the rules, young lady. You were careless so you have to live with the consequences. You're lucky your brother can fix it for you. And he will fix it, won't you John?"

"Yeah, okay, but there'll be interest if she doesn't pay on delivery."

"No there won't." his father insists. "You're lucky we believe in teaching you children how to handle money. Most parents would make you fix it with no discussion of money."

"Great, why don't I just do her homework for her." he grumbles.

He thinks 'oh shit' just as his mother says, "Speaking of homework, don't you have some math to do? We'd like to see a better grade on your next exam."

He decides to cut out and retreat before they get into anything else. He smudges his face with the napkin, puts his third piece of chicken on it and pushes his chair back. "O.K. Mom, I'll go get started on it. I can't do it tonight, Sam, but I'll fix your radio soon." Even my sister has a cooler name he thinks for the billionth time as he stands.

"John, you haven't touched your green beans." his mother says. "Please have one big forkful." Her Caring Mom softens him so he jabs a stack of the greyish-green tubes with his fork and quickly sticks the drooping mass in his mouth before any of them have a chance to fall off. He shows her a full mouth grin and dashes out of the room, leaving them with only the muffled sound of his stomping up the plush carpeted stairs and the careless slamming of his door.

Later that night, he's sitting at his computer with his pants around his knees and a grey scale image of a nude woman sprawled across his computer screen. As his hand moves skillfully up and down, he keeps an ear listening for footsteps in the hall and half an eye on the LED on top of his computer just in case. He hasn't figured out a way to time himself but he guesses that he can get his pant up and clear the screen in about half a second.

His mind has at least three levels to it. In the forefront he's wondering if this is what Anne looks like naked. Further back he's sure the image is from a digitized photograph but he wonders if its been manipulated. Could her breasts really stick out that far? In the nagging back of his mind he curses himself for being such a slave to the literal meat of his body.

He feels the surge coming so he picks up the wad of Kleenex off his desk and holds it ready to catch the mess. He allows his eyes to close for the rushing moment as the virtual Anne says 'Yes, Doc, YES!' and he feels the warm dampness through the wad of tissue. He exhales slowly as his eyes open and he imagines the mouth of the woman on his CRT changing from its fixed 'O' to a small smile. He pauses a moment, savoring the feeling of warmth and disgust then wipes off the tip of his penis, pulls up his pants, wraps the wad of tissue in yet another tissue, rolls it up into a small ball and places it in his garbage can beneath a few sheets of paper. As he ejects the unmarked disk and puts it in the back of his locked disk box, he mentally starts working out how he could animate the image.

BIWEEKLY BBS BRAG SESH. Not too many cocks on the measuring block today. A couple of neophtyes who changed their school grades. One guy puts up a credit card number which he says belongs to the president of Citibank. It's probably some nobody who didn't tear up their carbon but I'll write it down anyway. I'll check on it later and if it's for real I may even try to figure out a way to use it without getting traced. I say I've ordered a local computer shop's IBM catalogues to all be Japanese editions for the next five years because they're jerks who mark up their prices because they're the only ones around. The latter part is true. My line gets a response.

S.S.  hi, that store sounds familiar.  which one is it?

D.A.  rich's comp-u-store.

S.S.  yeah, i hate those guys.  you must live near me, whats your address

Must be a neo-. Serious breach of Board etiquette since this one operates with a hacked out phone number for free. Strange that he's so close to me though, and I don't know him.

D.A.  around.  you must be new, what's your handle?

S.S.  sneaky.stuff.  its what im into.  how about you?

D.A. the sneakier the better, i always say

S.S.   great, why don't we get on a one-to-one line and swap tricks.

D.A. you really are new that's what this is for.

S.S.  yes but im worried about big ears and loose lips.

D.A. hey everyone's cool enough and there's never been that kind of
 problem with this board.

S.S. still, im not comfortable.  why dont you tell me your phone no.
 and talk or just give me your address and ill write.  no big
 deal.

I don't like this. You're not supposed to push people's stories on the brag sesh. but this guy's asking for it.

D.A.  whats with the 007 stuff?  why's your shit so hot you need
 oven pads to hold it?

S.S.  SOME BANK STUFF AND A VIRUS OR TWO OK,  HOW ABOUT YOU? WHATS
 YOUR NAME? WHAT DO YOU HAVE?

No one else has been adding anything for a while but I check and there four others online, watching. Three. Two. Oh, shit.

S.S.  doc, you still there?

He yanks the phone plug right out of the wall and hits the main power switch on the power strip. He stares at the dead screen and hyperventilates. He starts talking to himself. "Oh shit. Oh shit! S.S. . . . Secret Service? No way! Maybe? Maybe they couldn't get the charges to stick since they were such fascists on the busts so now they're doing Operation Sundevil Part Two or something! Oh god if this is for real, I could be really fucked!"

He realizes he has incriminating evidence on disk so he unlocks his lockable disk box and digs out a large electromagnet from his dresser. He starts taking disks out of the box and waving the electromagnet over them starting with the unmarked one at the back.

The following week he's sitting on the couch watching the Cosby's with the rest of his family. The first three days he spent all his spare time in his room just as had been doing for how many, four, years? Only he wasn't at the computer. He hadn't touched it since wiping the disks he was worried about. Instead he just layed on his bed and stared at it. The next day he went into his sister's room, took the radio and fixed it. He put it back with a note saying 'no charge'. The day after that he started watching TV with his family.

His mother is glad he's spending time with them but she's wondering why all of a sudden he started sitting with them. "John, do you want to go up and work on your computer?"

"No. . ." he mumbles.

"Are you feeling okay, hon?"

"Yeah. . ."

"Is there anything you want to watch?"

"No. . .Whatever you want."

They don't want to spoil it so they don't ask him any more questions about it.

For two weeks, he spends his time sleeping fitfully, starting at the sound of sirens, and watching TV. It's not as bad as he remembered it. He likes 'The Simpsons', Star Trek The Next Generation, and 'Dream On' on HBO (he pretends the women's names are Anne on nights when he's not feeling particularly paranoid).

Then one Friday his grandmother visits because her son has told her how John's been spending time with the family. When she comes over, he's slumped into the naugahyde couch watching MTV. She thinks this is better than not seeing him at all but expects more.

"Hello, John. How are you" she says.

"Fine." he says not even turning his head.

"John, I was at the minimall today and I heard some children your age talking about a school dance tonight. Is there a dance at your school tonight? Wouldn't it be nice to go out and have a good time with other boys and girls?"

This catches his attention. "Uh, yeah. There is a dance tonight." Maybe Anne would be there. He wonders what she'd wear to a dance. He pulls the blanket over himself to conceal what he's thinking about. "Mom, is it all right if I go out tonight?"

His mother almost drops her mixing bowl. "Why, of course, dear! Henry! John wants to go out tonight!"

Suddenly his father is out of his office and standing with his mother and wife. "Really son? Where were you planning on going?" he says hopefully.

"Well, there's this dance tonight at the school. . ."

"That sounds great, son!" His father reaches into his pocket. "Here, do you need some money? How's five?"

As if summoned by the appearance of money, his sister appears. "Wait, are you just giving him money to go out? You never give me go out!"

"That's because you go out all the time." her mother snaps.

That night, he stands in the doorway of the darkened gym wearing a plain white T-shirt, jeans and black high tops. His hands are in his pockets, one of them gripping the ten dollars his father gave him (just in case). He goes in and sees some people he knows. He inches over to them. Watching the people in the gym dance he thinks he's done better in his bedroom. When he finally gets over to the small clump of familiar faces, he recognizes the song playing as one he liked a lot about three years ago. He closes his eyes and starts to dance as he did in his room. He bends his head down and opens his eyes to look at his feet. When he looks up, no one is staring or laughing so he relaxes and finds he enjoys dancing much more when there are people around. He notices Alice is there in the group she sees him and smiles at him. Alice didn't look like Anne but he had known her in grade school and she had always been pretty nice.

A hand comes down on his shoulder and he almost collapses. "Hey Doc, lighten up! It's Ed, remember? The Phantom Gabber?" He had forgotten about the crowd he used to hang out with at the computer store a couple of years ago. They knew his handle and his name. He drags Ed away from the crowd.

"Are you nuts, calling me that here?"

"Hey John, chill out. you still weirded out by that S.S. thing? I haven't seen you on the board. The guy hasn't shown up again we think it was a hoax." He was stunned. He stayed off line all this time and erased a dozen disks, including his porn one, because some asshole thought it would be funny? His shock and anger showed. "I guess you hadn't heard. Yeah, the sysop change the passwords and stuff just in case. I'll call you some time and give 'em to ya, O.K.? All right, I'll see ya John."

He was still dazed. He could go back to his computer. Get back on line. He must have missed quite a bit over the past few weeks. As he stared, his eyes focused on the group he had been with. He saw Alice dancing and she glanced at him and smiled but not a laughing kind of smile. Looking at her again, she did look about as good as Anne. Since grade school she had, developed. And she smiled at him. "The computer can wait." he said.