.-'~~~-. .' '. :~~~-. `. `. \ ~-. . `.; / ~. : .' ;-- `. .' ,' ; ~~--'~ ; ; ; ; `~-~' _/_/_/_/ _/_/_/ _/ _/ _/ _/ _/ _/ _/ _/ _/ _/ _/ _/ _/ _/ _/_/_/_/ _/_/_/_/_/ _/_/_/_/_/ _/ _/ _/ _/ _/ _/ _/ _/ _/ _/ _/ _/ _/_/_/_/ _/ _/ _/ _/ BAH - Issue #002 旼컴컴컴컴컴컴컴컴컴컴컴컴컴컴컴컴컴컴컴컴컴컴컴컴컴컴컴컴컴컴컴컴컴� � Title: the dark side Author: Tori Amos � � Date: 04-21-95 � � *like, welcome to BAH* � 읕컴컴컴컴컴컴컴컴컴컴컴컴컴컴컴컴컴컴컴컴컴컴컴컴컴컴컴컴컴컴컴컴컴� All text included in BAH issues is for educational purposes only. In no way do we at BAH endorse whatever actions described in our text files. If you suffer severe depression after reading this, don't come crying to us. [BAH] -\/-/\-\/-/\-\/-/\-\/-/\-\/-/\-\/-/\-\/-/\-\/-/\-\/-/\-\/-/\-\/-/\-\/-/\-\/- bah: There's a dark side to everything. Theres a dark side to cyberspace. (I really hate that word, but I'll use it for lack of a better one) I'm not talking about the criminal, or "underground" side of cyberspace, I'm talking about the power and the future of it. I'm going to tell you how it ruined my life, permanently. Modeming leaves a mark on everyone. Most of the time, the mark is positive. I was very unlucky. the beginning: I met Falcon (Infidel currently, I still think of him as Falcon) years ago. I was living a happy, computer-free, rap-music-enriched, eight-year old life. (I was always intelligent as a child, everyone says. I say I'm still intelligent now.) Someone moves into the house next to me. I'm in second grade. He's a tall sixth grader. I saw no friendship whatsoever when he moved in. We met on a bus, I think, and I came over to his house once. His parents met my parents, our mothers became good friends. I was over at his house literally *every day*. I had never really had close-up experience with a computer, and he had one. I was amazed. I learned BASIC easily, and soon was over there all the time, programming things for Falcon's computer. (He had not yet learned to program yet - at least, not as good as I was. Remember- He was twelve and I was eight) I soon started hinting around to my parents that I wanted a computer. On my birthday, I got one. It was a 8088 IBM XT, complete with CGA monitor and two disk drives, no hard drive. I loved the thing. I played with it and programmed, programmed, programmed. Falcon soon learned to program, and we programmed in GWBASIC for three years, then we moved on to QuickBasic. Falcon had always had a modem. I'd only seen him use it once, with great interest. When I got my computer, I forgot all about it. Until one day... I was programming a new version of my Craps game (version 3.2, I think) when Falcon called. He said he was getting a 9600 baud modem for free and he had a 2400 for me. My own modem? WOW! I loved it. I hadn't learned anything more about a BBS. I was eleven years old. I installed the modem and just called everywhere for files. A lot. I had gotten a new 8086 (also for free, from a friend of my mother's) with a hard drive, and filled that up the first night I got my modem with cheap CGA games. I played them, and forgot about programming. There was another whole world. Craps could wait. I loved doing this. One day, after moving again, I looked in my BBS list and saw a name of a BBS that I had seen Falcon call before, a long time ago. I called it. I wasn't in that BBS, but a different one. I was in a chat board. That chat board became my home. In the months of April-December 1993, I made 983 calls to that chat board. I learned everything about everything, because now I was talking with people. I had never been social as a child. I was always more advanced, more ahead. I hated that. Now I had a chance to talk to people who were on the same level as I was! I did. When that chat board died, I moved to another one, a DDial, that still exists today. I have since ceased calling there, but I still love it. I woke up, and called. All day. Called, called called. It never tired me. Until I learned enough to become aware of the computer world and the rest of the world, I was content. Soon after calling those chat boards, I found out my computer was worthless. My cherished computer was practically worthless. I bought a new one. And another one. I bought three new computers. I spent over $5,000 keeping up with all the new technology. I still do not know why I did. I realized one day, after moving up to here, that I was far away from my beloved chat board, and I couldn't call as much as I could before, or the phone bill would be TOO high. Falcon never got the same as I did. He hated the chat board at first, but after a while, he was hooked as well. He never got *too* hooked; when that first chat board went down, he shrugged. "Oh Well." he said. That annoyed me. Regardless of the phone bill, I called anyway. The phone bill was $800. I couldn't keep this up. I had to stop. I did. I threw my modem away. My parents were now very worried. They took me to a psychologist, who prescribed Haldol for two weeks, then lithium for a month, then prozac until "recovery". I went down the list, took those medications for about half a year, went to school, made new friends, forgot all about the computer world. I met Stone. He got me back into computers. I was on the brink of getting back in anyway, since this was the time of the "Information Superhighway". Media was beginning to promote computers and modems more. I took myself off the Prozac, bought a cheap 9600 baud modem at a garage sale, and have used it very few times. My computer had sat for three months until I met Stone. I am trying so hard to not start what I did again, but I don't know how long I can last. I've got to find a way to get rid of this. It's like an addiction, but worse. It's not a physical addiction, it's mental. I'm in the trap again, and I fear now I may not get out. I speak against AOL and similar services, getting children my age into modeming. I read an article in _Computer Life_ (a really annoying magazine - promotes getting "wired into the information superhighway") about eight-year-olds "surfing the 'net" and getting their own WWW homepage. This scares me. I don't want what happened to me to happen to them. I read an article in a psycology journal about a man of twenty-three years, who was put in a mental institution having a case greatly resembling mine. He was a brilliant computer network designer, just getting out of MIT. This, whatever this is, is like a secret. Once you know the secret, you can't forget it. The secret only comes to people who can understand it. Few can, thankfully. I can't accept those thousands of kids playing MUDs and getting their Internet homepage. Those children can have a much better time doing other things. I could have. I can't accept the media and millions of ignorant people who are immune to the secret promoting its means of transmission. I can't accept the government's "Information Superhighway" program. I can't accept Ameritech's "Testing Towns". I can't accept AT&T's "You Will" commercials. I can't accept a lot of things. The secret gives greatly, but takes more. It depends on your morals. Are you willing to suffer the consequences to get the results? The truth is, millions are. The secret has given me typing speeds exceeding 100wpm, fluent knowledge in three programming languages, knowledge of computer software and hardware like the back of my hand, and a noise inside my head that is always saying "You need more!". I'm wondering if that was what Trent Reznor was speaking of in _The Downward Spiral_'s "the becoming". I'm caught in the trap again. This time, I'm in it too deep. I will never get out. I wonder how far it will go before it goes too far. -\/-/\-\/-/\-\/-/\-\/-/\-\/-/\-\/-/\-\/-/\-\/-/\-\/-/\-\/-/\-\/-/\-\/-/\-\/-