I remember as a child, sitting on my computer, monitoring my dial-up hours to the Internet while cruising through BBS’s and forums. Three hours a day, or you’d have to skip a day, and my god, what would a day without the Internet be like? Perhaps the most frustrating part of it all was that no one else really seemed to get it. E-mail was a new-fangled inconvenience. The majority of my friends didn’t even have computers. When you said “technology,” people thought of cell phones (still relatively saucy for the time frame I’m talking about here) and TVs. It’s a concept wholly lost in today’s world, where people leave their computers on and downloading for weeks at a time, expect fast nationwide Internet on their smartphones, and almost everyone has a laptop or netbook they can take with them anywhere. We don’t do without.
Times like these were what I used to dream of 15 years ago. Infinite Internet, no premiums for Web space, a kingdom of information — and the user base to fill it up. In short, a technoworld. I used to sit and imagine when not dialed-up (yes, I used to daydream about the Internet when I couldn’t be on it) would be like when people finally did get it. A world where everyone is online all the time and the sort of magic it would entail. An infinite amount of information available, all the people to chat with, all the new forums that would crop up, sites to visit, videos to see, audio to hear, and new programs to download. It was a dreamscape. It came true, but it’s a lesson to be careful what you wish for.
Somewhere along the way, I came across the hacker’s manifesto, and I always vividly remember the passage: “We exist without skin color, without nationality, without religious bias… and you call us criminals.” That has always stuck with me, and while fellow Emerald columnist Tyree Harris may dislike the idea of colorblindness, on the Internet, unless you give out a picture or profile information, you exist on no common principles to judge upon. Your intellect and courage are the only determining factors. At least that’s how it used to be. Nowadays, with LinkedIn, Facebook and Twitter, anyone around the globe (except in China) can know who you are and what you’re doing at any given moment. A thought that would terrify the average computer user in the 1990s. Nowadays, you may be prejudged on the Internet under any of the usual criteria. A single Twitter update or Facebook status is all some people need for that quick judgment. We’ve lost the Internet where you exist only as an intellectual entity, and are spurred along as your merits will allow.
The Internet I remember, back in those precious glory days, felt more tight-knit. Communities sprang up and were inclusive. There were precious few sites on any given topic, few portals and few chat hubs outside of IRC. Frequently, small hot spots on the old Internet would erupt, the equivalent of an exclusive, invitation-only underground night club in Los Angeles or New York. I think that stemmed from the type of person who had a computer in the 1990s and spent a lot of time on the Internet. There were a lot of geeks, but there were also a lot of passionate people who maintained Web sites and contributed to forums, as well as social recluses who used the Internet as their main window to the outside world.
Then everyone else got on the Internet, and this is where I became annoyed. The Internet shifted from something personal to something as impersonal as the rest of our daily lives may be. My favorite Internet spots became packed with this sort of mainstream culture I actively reject and the Internet started to morph into what it is today: a cold, hard, unfriendly place, filled with mindless knowledge and zounds of people. People in an instant-gratification generation who become annoyed when everything they need isn’t on the first page of Google search results. People don’t enjoy the Internet anymore. They use it. They get on, get what they need and they’re done. Where once the Internet was a replacement for TV, the Internet is now relegated to the status of a simple tool. Get what you need and leave. Where once there were tight-knit groups, you now have to carefully monitor everything you say for the general public. On the cusp of the revolution in 1999, I would not have imagined we would be as far as we were by 2009. My Internet is long, long gone.
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