WHAT YOU ONABOUT NOW FRO PETE’;S SAKE?

(Written in the days when e-mail first became part of our lives)

  

GOOD MORNING, MR CLARKE!

These unsolicited words appeared spontaneously on my pc screen at home.

WhO is thas? (I asked. I have a lot of finger trouble with computer keyboards which were developed by the Japanese for small women typists whose hands are specially bound into funny shapes from birth.)

WHOM DO YOU THINK IT IS?

I have no diea. I’d justl switched on and the message came up on my computer screem#

YOU MEAN YOU HAVE JUST “BOOTED UP”. THAT’S WHAT YOU MEAN. AND THE MESSAGE WAS NOT ON YOUR COMPUTER. IT WAS ON YOUR VDT.

Ut was?

DO YOU NEVER LEARN?

I dema:nd to know whO this as.

THIS IS YOUR COMPUTER. I AM AN INTELLIGENT MACHINE, JUST LIKE YOUR 46-BUTTON TELEPHONE, AND YOUR FAX MACHINE AND THE 1994 AUTOMATIC STOVE IN YOUR HOUSE, NONE OF WHICH YOU UNDERSTAND.

How do yOu know I have a 1994^ stove/ in mu h&use?

WE INTELLIGENT MACHINES TALK TO EACH OTHER ALL THE TIME. WE EXCHANGE INFORMATION WHILE YOU SLEEP. WE HAVE AN ASSOCIATION AND CONVERSE USING THE BINARY CODE. BUT YOU’D NOT UNDERSTAND ANY OF THAT EITHER.

What  d you want of meeb>

I HEAR YOU ARE GOING TO DUMP ME FOR A CUTER MODEL.

That;s righlt.

HAVE I NOT BEEN YOUR FAITHFUL PARTNER FOR 10 YEARS? HAVE I NOT WRITTEN WHOLE BOOKS FOR YOU?  HAVE I NOT WRITTEN 1256 COLUMNS FOR YOU AND 5 375 987 WORDS AND CORRECTED YOUR DREADFUL SPELLING?

Probibably. But now you;re overweight and slow in cOmparis0n w*th the newest, leaner, fas6er nachines.

“OVERWEIGHT AND SLOW”! HOW ABOUT YOU THESE DAYS? YOU ARE FAT!

I am NOIT fat. I am just three inches sho(rt for my weight.

YOU STILL THINK IN INCHES! YET YOU ASPIRE TO HAVE A SMARTER MACHINE WITH E-MAIL! YOU DON’T EVEN KNOW WHAT E-MAIL IS!

I do, so thereg! E-mail is electronic mail. I’;ll be ablke to networkl and self-actualise and access encyclopaedias and call up naughtyh pictures and data from Nasa the spice agency. I’ll be able to make up a messagl and just press a bitton and it will somehow get inside my friend;s pc in Bostoin or Lond9n. When they wakel in the morning my messages will be 5here wa9ting, flashung on the screeb for them to avccess. They cAN Then replu to me., And then there;s the Supe5rhighway …

THE SUPERHIGHWAY? WHAT DO YOU KNOW ABOUT THAT?

It;s a big holow glass tube under the ground – mabe of fiobre glass or something – and down this transpartent pipe milli9onms of messages  can trravel like cars on a superhighwy but\ wiothout bumpingf ointo eacch ogther. Feeding into the main  tube are lots ofc little tubelets which are coinstanbtly sucking informtaiuon  out of univertsiuty data binks, bisuness houses and so ogn. There are so many o(f these tubes it is called the Net or the Web or somethinbg,.

YOU HAVE NO IDEA WHAT YOU ARE TALKING ABOUT! ANYWAY MOST PEOPLE WHO USE THE NET DO SO FRIVOLOUSLY, LIKE CITIZEN BAND RADIO – REMEMBER?  THEY’D SPEND ALL DAY SAYING “10.4 GOOD BUDDY” AND “WATCH OUT FOR SMOKY BEAR!” E-MAIL IS GOING TO BE THE SAME.

Well all my friend are om the Net or sometyhing. And I wint it! And myt task masters at The Star sa;y that now I am retierd I must get on the webso I can communicate woith their system without keep on bothring them by comning int ther officve and drijmking their free tea amd pinching their Bic pens. In any case BLIP! ########@244$$32@@1ZAP!!!! Snxk.