Coming Soon: Stardom in Cyberspace
Many moons ago, when e-mail was something new and exciting at the big company that employs me, I learned a lesson about its wonders and its pitfalls.
The wonders were indeed wonderful. You’ve heard, no doubt, about how nerds find romance in cyberspace. Once, that happened to me.
She was a colleague in another office, an acquaintance more than a friend. An exchange of messages led to dinner, which led to more, which lasted about a year. A decade later, we’re still friends. No regrets.
Well, almost. You see, a few weeks after that first dinner, a nosy friend e-mailed me about this relationship. Now, this friend--a woman, I should add--happens to have a racy sense of humor, which was in ample evidence in her message. Chuckling to myself, I composed a bawdy response in kind, and reached for the “send” button.
It was at that moment, a millisecond before contact, that I noticed I had inadvertently typed my sweetie’s name in the “send to” field, not my nosy friend’s. And it was too late: My finger depressed the send key even as my brain cried “Oh, darn!” (or words to that effect). In panic, I idiotically tapped “cancel” six or seven times, even though I realized that messages, once sent, could not be retrieved.
Soon I was on the phone, saying “I’m sorry” as often as I tapped the cancel button.
My sweetheart was not amused. But she was, eventually, forgiving.
*
I offer this tale to explain the mixture of excitement and trepidation with which I face my new assignment in cyberspace. People who read this newspaper closely, and especially those of you who subscribe to Prodigy on your personal computer, are probably aware of TimesLink. It’s the company’s latest idea for making money--I mean, for providing a valuable service at a reasonable price. (Hey, I’m in the employee stock plan.)
The fear started a few weeks ago, when an editor known as Big Guy called me into his office. He explained to me that editors who might collectively be called Even Bigger Guys and Gals want columnists to be active participants in TimesLink. Big Guy explained that readers might send me e-mail and that the company would appreciate it if I would respond from time to time.
Big Guy even told me about an electronic “bulletin board” called “Ask Scott Harris” and he said that, once TimesLink is hitting on all six cylinders, I might even participate in a “chat room.” Now, I’m not too clear on the concept, but I’m told this is the information superhighway equivalent of live talk radio. Apparently there’ll come a time when, at the appointed hour on the appointed day, readers and I can send messages back and forth, exchanging insights or insults or whatever.
Now all of this sounded like it might be fun. It also sounded like a fair amount of work, especially since I’m not much of a computer jockey and would need hours of training. Anyway, I told Big Guy, “Sure,” before thinking to ask the reasonable question of whether extra work would mean extra pay. This injustice may not be addressed when “Ask Scott Harris” is the hottest thing in cyberspace. But by then I’ll be represented by Ovitz.
Yes, someday fans will call it “ASH,” the same way people now casually say “Rush.” Judging from the early response, however, it may take a while.
At my first TimesLink lesson, we looked into the ASH heap.
“Scott, where do babies come from?”
This was my very first question. Turned out to be a joke--a message from a co-worker I now think of as Smart Guy. Another early message came from my old friend Gil Chesterton, the journalism adviser at Beverly Hills High School. He just wanted to say hello.
It was reassuring to find a few messages from people I don’t know personally. Mostly they pertained to illegal immigration and Mayor Riordan’s failure to announce a position on Proposition 187.
I sent a few replies, but something about it didn’t feel right. It wasn’t like the old days of e-mail, when our hearts were young and spring was in the air.
*
The company has assigned me a password, a seemingly random concoction of seven letters or digits. Then there’s a second password that I’ve assigned myself. I can’t sign on to TimesLink at the simple computer at my desk, but have to look for one of those hifalutin machines that are scattered here and there. I’m not utterly clueless--I’m not, as the metaphor goes, “roadkill on the information superhighway”--but I do wish it were simpler.
My first paying job in journalism was as a copy boy, when the clatter of typewriters filled the newsroom. Among my jobs was filling the glue pots. Copy editors would mark up typewritten stories with pencils and glue the typewritten pages into long scrolls. After a final look by an editor, the stories would be impaled on a metal spike that extended from a heavy base. I would then “clean the spike” and “tube the copy”--that is, place the scrolls into plastic vessels to be sent by pneumatic tube to the back shop.
The technology has changed so much so fast that people now envision the day when your daily news will arrive via microwave to your portable laptop--and laptops will be as cheap, as necessary and as commonplace as the telephone.
And that’s when ASH will be huge.
But remember, if something I say offends you, there’s a good chance it was meant for somebody else.
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Scott Harris’ column appears Tuesdays, Thursdays and Sundays. Readers may write to Harris at the Times Valley Edition, 20000 Prairie St., Chatsworth, Calif. 91311. Please include a phone number. Address e-mail to YQTU59A ( via the Internet: YQTU59A@prodigy.com).
