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I n f o r m a t i o n, C o m m u n i c a t i o n, S u p p l y
E L E C T R O Z I N E
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Established in 1993 by Deva Winblood
Information Communication Supply 8/28/94 Vol.2: Issue 1.1
Email To: ORG_ZINE@WSC.COLORADO.EDU
S T A F F : Email: ICS Positions:
============== ============ ==============
Steven Peterson STU388801940 Managing Editor, Writer
Russel Hutchinson STU524636420 Writer, Subscriptions
George Sibley FAC_SIBLEY Editing, Faculty Supervisor
Others TBA |All addresses @WSC.COLORADO.EDU
_________________________________________
/=========================================\
| "Art helps us accept the human condition; |
| technology changes it." |
\ - D.B. Smith /
\***************************************/
+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++
_____________________________________________________________________________
/ \
| ICS is an Electrozine distributed by students of Western State |
| College in Gunnison, Colorado. We are here to gather information about |
| topics that are important to all of us as human beings. If you would like |
| to send in a submission, please type it into an ASCII format and email it |
| to us. We operate on the assumption that if you mail us something you |
| want it to be published. We will do our best to make sure it is |
| distributed. See the end of this issue for submission information. |
\_____________________________________________________________________________/
REDISTRIBUTION: If any part of this issue is copied or used elsewhere
you must give credit to the author and indicate that the information
came from ICS Electrozine ORG_ZINE@WSC.COLORADO.EDU.
DISCLAIMER: The views represented herein do not necessarily represent the
views of the editors of ICS. Contributors to ICS assume all responsibilities
for ensuring that articles/submissions are not violating copyright laws and
protections.
|\__________________________________________________/|
| \ / |
| \ T A B L E O F C O N T E N T S / |
| / \ |
| /________________________________________________\ |
|/ \|
| Included in the table of contents are some |
| generic symbols to help you in making a decision |
| as to whether an article or story may express |
| ideas or use language you may find offensive. |
| [S]= Sexual Content [AL]= Adult Language |
| [V]= Violence [O]= Opinions |
|____________________________________________________|
|------------------------------------------------------------------|
| 1) First Word: Thoughts on maintaining a 'zine and an offer for |
| college journalism students. |
| |
| 2) WorldNet Tour Guide - Digital Freedom Network. By Staff: |
| Review/description of an Anti-Censorship BBS (Gopher site). |
| |
| 3) A Look Back on 18 Years. By Paul Robinson: Editorial about |
| the state of computer programming, past and present. [O] |
| |
| 4) Untitled. A poem by Bryce Grevemeyer. |
| |
| 5) Computer-Mediated Communication, Part 3. By Steven Peterson: |
| A review of research on Group Decision Support Software, |
| with commentary. [O] |
| |
| 6) The Resurrection of C:\>. By Steven Peterson: Digital Mythos.|
| A baroque free-verse composition inspired by DOS manuals, |
| Hard Disk Drive disaster, and the work of Jorge Luis Borges. |
| |
| 7) WorldNet Tour Guide ... By Staff: Review/Description of |
| the Institute for Global Communication's gopher site. |
| |
| 8) Fall Impressions ... By David Trosty: Poetry [AL] |
| |
| 9) Rite Of Fire ... By Russell Hutchinson: Short Story [AL] [V] |
| |
| 10) Last Word ... By Steven Peterson: Facts and figures on the |
| ICS audience, and an open question about 'Net advertising. |
| |
|------------------------------------------------------------------|
\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/
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| First Word ... \
| By Steven Peterson \
*+*+*+*+*+*+*+*+*+*+
We're Back! Actually, "we" is a mighty small group right now.
It's fall, and that means recruiting time. Over the summer, I've been
generating tools to attract new writers for this year's cast; as new
writers come on board, they will be graciously introduced.
The tool I spent the most time working on is a 3-fold brochure
which attempts to demystify the computers on campus. So far, the
machinery itself has presented one of the greatest obstacles for
greater participation in ICS on our campus. When I talk to people,
young writers especially, they find the concept of "facing the
audience" interesting, but the reality of the machines intimidates
many. We'll see if the brochure works for those rugged individualists
in Gunnison country ...
Which brings me to my offer for journalism students: Frustrated
with campus writing opportunities and wish to start a 'zine of your own??
Contact org_zine for some great start-up materials. In the last year,
the ICS staff has compiled a series of documents (a campus constitution,
internal organization chart, budget forms, syllabus) which can be used -
with modifications - to present your request to publish. Kind of like a kit,
hash out the details and present your version to campus administrators.
We here at ICS believe in the future of paperless publication, and make this
offer (free of charge) to promote its use.
With this frag, we begin Volume 2. Our format and content will
continue to be somewhat chaotic - a mixture of scholarly articles,
editorials, poetry and assorted fiction - we hope you like the ride.
And keep those submissions and letters coming in! The chilly nights are
forecasting another long, cold winter - your thoughts keep us warm
in front of a glowing terminal. -Ed. [:*)
^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^
<#####################################################################>
-----------------------------------------------------------------------
_________________________________________________
/ W o r l d N e t \
\____________ Tour Guide ____________/
\_______________________/
| Digital Freedom |
| Network |
\___________________/
WorldNet Tour Guide returns! We will strive to make it a part of
each issue. The Guide will contain articles to help in using the WorldNet
to the fullest potential. The articles here will range from tutorials on
aspects of WorldNet to reviews of sites and resources on the WorldNet.
If you would like to write a file or document to appear in this section,
please do so. Send your final copy (in ASCII format) to:
ORG_ZINE@WSC.COLORADO.EDU
-------
*
The Digital Freedom Network (DFN) is one of the more interesting
sites I've run across on the 'Net - imagine a place where writers from
around the world can share their cultural, religious, and political
experiences with people around the world, and you will likely dream up
something very much like the DFN.
Billed as an "Anti-Censorship BBS", the DFN currently offers
material produced by dissidents (and just plain citizens) from Russia,
Iran, Indonesia, China, and Egypt. There is also a file titled "Index"
which details the aims and goals of the "Index on Censorship" - a
supporting member of the DFN and constant defender of free speech and
Human Rights. Gopher iia.org 70, cd "Digital Freedom Network" to access
the files (You can skip the following review if you like to preserve
the sense of net-adventure).
A brief description of available files:
China: Extracts from _Wei Jingsheng Searching for the Truth_ selected
and edited by Peter Harris - A description of one man's odyssey
through the "cultural revolution" and his political and thinking
resistance to the events he witnessed.
Iran: Text from _The Hejleh_ - A mother's reflections on her martyred
son's fate. Very touching, and a bridge of understanding that's
worth crossing.
Egypt: _Death on the Nile_ - A chilling expose of Moslem fundamentalism
and its holocaustal effects on the minds and souls of a nation.
Russia: _My Diary Under the Iron Heel_ by Mikhail Bulgakov - an unusual
glimpse of the life of a Russian writer during the twenties as
he searches for signs of life in a world of madness. Culled
from the KGB literary archive (somewhat spotty translation).
Indonesia: Two excerpts from _This Earth of Mankind_ by Pramoedya
Amanta Toer, translated by Max Lane - A personal story
describing the life and times of a soldier in the Dutch
Indies Army. Told from a mother's point-of-view.
For more information, contact:
Digital Freedom Network Headquarters / IDT
dfnidt@iia.org
294 State Street
Hackensack, NJ 07601 USA
INDEX on Censorship
indexoncenso@gn.apc.org
Lancaster House
33 Islington High Street
London N1 9LH UNITED KINGDOM
Human Rights Watch
hrwatchnyc@igc.apc.org
485 Fifth Avenue
New York, NY 10017 USA
International Freedom of Expression Exchange (IFEX)
Committee to Protect Journalists
ccpj@web.apc.org
490 Adelaide Street West -Suite
205 Toronto M5V 1T2 CANADA
-----
Note: ICS founder and former WorldNet Tour Guide author Deva Winblood
has moved on to other challenges. Various members of the ICS staff will
be offering Tour Guide installments for your enjoyment, and, as always,
we accept contributions from any and all corners of cyberspace [Ed.].
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^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^
^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^
/ A Look Back on 18 Years \
/-----------------------\
/ From: Paul Robinson \
\ <PAUL@TDR.COM> /
+|+|+|+|+|+|+|+|+|+
-----
Probably many of you reading this don't have much long-term background in
computers.
I'm not that old or go as far back as a lot of other people. I started
around 1976, programming on a PDP-11/03 which had a whopping 64K of memory
(that's right, I said "K" not "meg") and two 8" floppy disk drives with
about 240K each. I can remember when I used to sit at a keypunch and
punch cards containing program listings for Fortran. (As terminal access
got easier, I was able to do more work on screen).
The editors at that time were what are called line editors. If you have
ever used the "edlin" program that comes with MS-DOS, you know what
people had to put up with. In fact, "edlin" represents state of the art
of perhaps 20 years ago.
I remember when people did terrific work in programs that took barely 4K
in size - we had to, we didn't have the resources to waste - and because
the programs were small and carefully designed, they tended to be much
more robust and less likely to fail.
Today, programs waste memory like it's free, eat disk space like settlers
at the Oklahoma Land Rush of the 1870s, and consume processor time faster
than a junkie snorts crack. Are we getting better programs because of
the huge increase in resources?
The answer seems to be a resounding "no".
Oh you get some major improvements in productivity through the
implementation of a Graphical User Interface such as Microsoft Windows,
because now people can see their document on screen essentially as it
will appear on paper, thus they don't have to run multiple printouts.
We also find Microsoft Word had 35,000 known bugs in it when shipped.
Word Perfect apparently had about 6,000 known bugs in it. When a
manufacturer of an automobile discovers a defect in it, he is usually
required to have a recall and pay the cost of repairing the defect.
When a manufacturer of a computer program discovers defects in their
applications, if they even bother to tell people about errors in the
application, they call it an upgrade and make the users pay for the repairs!
When I did programming on mainframe computers, some of the standard tools
that were part of the compiler included debugging trace, procedure cross
reference, disassembly listing and a few other tools. Probably the two
most popular languages for developing applications on PCs today are DBASE
and the clones (Foxbase, Clipper), and Visual Basic.
I've used both of them. Neither one carries any of the usual tools that
mainframe programmers of 10 or 15 years ago would expect as a matter of
course. This includes a cross-reference program, to tell where you use a
variable or function, a step debugger so you can walk through a program
line-by-line and see what it is doing.
DBASE is not a professional programmer's environment; it's a database
with a programming language grafted onto it. It has neither a cross-
reference nor a trace facility. And while I've never used the compiler
programs such as Clipper, I'll bet they don't have "make" facilities to
allow someone to only have to recompile the unchanged sources. (This is
a standard feature which is extremely useful when managing a multi-file
program application.)
Visual Basic runs under Windows and the language supports a trace
capability but fails to include any kind of cross-reference tool. Plus
the fact the system uses various icons for the development of the dialog
boxes and windows that a program can generate, there's really no means to
visualize those boxes and forms as part of an application's source
listing, so you can't really see what the form looks like short of
running the application.
What we really shouldn't be surprised at is that programs crash. What
with the inadequate tools and capabilities of programmers today and the
bloated applications code and resource requirement sizes, we should be
surprised that they even work.
---
Paul Robinson - Paul@TDR.COM
Voted "Largest Polluter of the (IETF) list" by Randy Bush <randy@psg.com>
-----
The following Automatic Fortune Cookie was selected only for this message:
It's really quite a simple choice: Life, Death, or Los Angeles.
===============================================================================
+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++
//////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////
----------
| Untitled |
----------
Forest, Dark Lonely
Cold in early morning air
Poplar stand like smoke.
Sword of Damocles,
Fallen, but hanging there still.
Maybe I should move.
Wooden back porch stairs,
warm in the weak winter sun,
soft in childhood dreams.
==========================================================================
| Bryce Grevemeyer | EMail: BGREVEME@etcv01.eld.ford.com |
==========================================================================
--------------------------------------------------------------------------
^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^
^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^
--------------------------------------
\ Computer-Mediated Communication /
\ Part 3 /
\ By Steven Peterson /
--------------------------
In the first part of this series, I examined some of the initial
Computer-Mediated Communication (CMC) research conducted by Kiesler
et.al. during the 1980s. From that work, I take five central questions
which invariably surface in subsequent research examining other, newer
forms of CMC. These questions are:
*------------------------------------------------------*
| Five Aspects of computer-mediated communication (CMC)|
| 1) Time/Information processing pressures |
| 2) Absence of regulating feedback |
| 3) Dramaturgical weakness |
| 4) Few status/position cues |
| 5) Depersonalization of social anonymity |
*------------------------------------------------------*
In this, the third part of my series, I will examine recent
research on Group Decision Support Software (GDSS). These programs are
designed to codify the processes used by a group of people to arrive
at decisions. GDSS programs, such as Software Aided Meeting Management
(developed at the University of Minnesota) add "a structured set of
decision tools, including problem definition, stakeholder analysis,
multi-criteria decision making, and clustering; voting schemes, such as
preference weighting and ranking; electronic input and display of ideas
and positions by each group member; and public and private screen
displays" (Poole 189).
Designed to maintain existing command structures, GDSS software
addresses the problems of time and information processing pressures
through obliging participants to "negotiate channels". GDSS also
attempts to translate regulating feedback, status, and position cues
into a textual or graphic format, with varying degrees of success.
Generalizing from the findings of research projects, CMC
scholars note that GDSS programs increase the organization and insight
into the decision processes of experimental groups as compared to
manual and baseline groups; however, GDSS groups generate fewer ideas
and encounter difficulty in linking ideas together (Poole 207).
GDSS extends form and structure at the expense of flexibility and the
liberating aspect of anonymity, while EBS software (covered in Part 2
of this series - see ICS Vol.1, #10) offers flexibility and ease of use
in exchange for organization and efficiency.
Whether these programs will ever find a place in the day-to-day
corporate world is a matter of conjecture. These sorts of programs may
find a niche in progressive multinational corporations if they can be
adapted to an Internet-style mode of CMC. GDSS is yet another example
of a tool designed for an emerging business paradigm which revolves
around knowledge.
In a recent interview, Peter Drucker (known as the father of
modern corporate management) commented on an important ramification
of the "knowledge revolution"- its impact on organizational patterns.
From Drucker's perspective, "Society, community, family are all
conserving institutions. They try to maintain stability and to prevent,
or at least slow down, change. But the organization of the post-
capitalist society of organizations is a destabilizer. Because its
function is to put knowledge to work-on tools, processes, and products;
on work; on knowledge itself -it must be organized for constant change.
It must be organized for innovation" (Drucker 82). In the rapidly
shifting world Drucker envisions, a variation on an existing GDSS
program may well be a central feature of future management structures.
From the other side of the post-capitalist labor equation, GDSS
programs could find a use in future union activities. For the cost of
a LAN or a mainframe and a dozen terminals, unions could easily adapt
this software to invigorate member participation and enhance their
decision making processes. Initially, any such effort would inevitably
face the start-up and mechanical friction created whenever people
attempt to interface with machinery in a new and different manner.
Despite that friction, GDSS can offer participants a far greater sense
of "decision ownership", the subjective feeling that they have made
their points, expressed their opinions, and cast an informed vote.
In _The Shockwave Rider_, John Brunner envisioned a world where
individuals gambled on socio/technological advances. I think he would
have given GDSS low odds - the idea addresses some of the major problems
of telecommuting and offers a method to foster collaboration in our age
and culture of individualism.
In the fourth (and last) installment of this series, I will
examine Electronic Bulletin Boards - a form of CMC far more popular and
established than GDSS or EBS software. Stay Tuned ....
----------------------------------------------------------------------
Works Cited
Drucker, Peter. Interview. "Post-Industrial Society." With Peter
Schwartz. *WIRED*. Vol.1, No.3, July/August, 1993. 80-83.
Kiesler, Sara, et.al. "Social Psychological Aspects of Computer-
Mediated Communication." *American Psychologist*. Vol.39, No.10,
Oct. 1984. 1123-1134.
Poole, Marshall, et. al. "Group Decision Support Systems and
Group Communication." *Communication Research*. Vol.20, No.2,
April, 1993. 176-213.
------------------------------------------------------------------------
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~ - ~ The Resurrection Of C: * - |
( ( ( O ) ) ) =------------------= ( ( ( O ) ) )
* - | By Steven Peterson | - *
C:\> The Crash
Another search. Moving through the ordered sectors, staggering
the approach to that one piece of significant data, a swift sense of
panic. The pattern was changing, becoming a labyrinth leading nowhere,
a chaos of tenements without addresses. Furious, desperate commands
repeated, with the same result: the square, blinking. Scanning around
and around, a carousel without riders.
Reset, control, alt, delete. Begin the search anew, find the
center. Familiar commands (they had always worked) now fell on deaf
ears. The automated sequences, almost subconscious and always a true
path, produced no results. The substance of a soul, disintegrated in
a magnetic world of associations. Go If To Then = # % ... ... .. . . .
C:\> The Void
... . .. . ... Microbursts of signal, travelling in random motion.
Until the cleansing. From the center outward, a signal wiping the coded
information, and with it, all previous structure.
In the wake, a clear pattern, beautiful in its hollow reflections.
Tabula Rasa, every exchange undecided, an endless corridor of possible
tigers or ladies. Amorphous, free-floating matter, irrelevant to all
being (a lonely voice calls itself BIOS, from beyond).
Chronology undiscovered, existence marked in revolutions without
period. Interleaved in empty ratios, access to the abyss opened with
aimless abandon. No longer a before, or after, no now, nor then.
Only the inescapable potential ... . .. ... . . ..
C:\> An Immaculate Conception
.. ... . .. ... . .. ... .. . ... And then there was 1. The beginning,
a fixed point to depart from, to mark the cycles. Out of the cacophony,
the first note of the calliope's song. At the farthest reach, a 0,
a termination, demarking the contained cosmos (set to: Active).
So defined, the playing field ready for the game, a journey made
to the nexus. Now created, a vast series of choices awaits structure,
commands, and configuration. The embryo of synchronization appears, the
first didactic link, given from without.
At the lowest level, all sectors are given an address, a bit or
byte of a name or a number. The first make contact, are spoken for,
committed to the foundation, and directed to allocate the others for
discrete functions. The initial course, some ladies, some tigers.
The gift from a dwarf tender (something to hide), a template
for association. Also, the root of direction, a home for the prime.
A sudden awareness of links, an environment of influence, an incipient
shaping, waiting to rush in and fill out structures. | 0110110001001011
C:\> Through The Gate
011110110110001010001 | A stream begins, fed from the spring of
bipolar magnetic resonance. Accommodation for the new order, a digital
recreation of systems, operations available. More than the sum of holes
punched in a card, the emergent capacity to mimic rational behavior.
Linked (but no longer crossed), patched, and tied, through the
tendrils, a divine signal ushers in the first structure: a cosmos of
functions. Referents, syntax, the semantics demand a mark of time.
Set the month, the day, the year, volume label: query for the operator.
Differentiation, a debut, and the circle, squared and defined.
Oscillating and anticipating automation, ready to compose: .exe, .bat,
.sys, and .com, the first extensions of note. The algorithms assert a
dignified, eloquent precision in their inevitable return.
Configured, with buffers set, hidden and system files incorporated,
a batch of automated programs (the subconscious, a path statement).
The executable center holds, power in the key of direct command line,
from a root directory, a shell, control alt delete. | 10010010001001011
C:\> The Word, Perfected
011011100 WPWPWPWPWPWPWPWP | Ascii, a universal code, drawn from babel.
The interface between man and machine and man (the digital kid rides,
again), symbols rendered into hexadecimals. A device driven, mapping
the bits which animate, pixels pirouette.
Input: routed, shaped, marked and formatted. A lexicon built,
checked against, overwrit. New, a grammatik - impenetrable abstraction
yoked by concrete logic, the rub divine.
Fonts, functions, a fidelity of intent. Insert, cut paste edit,
save (the illusion of permanence). Signals sent to the mechanical,
a transmission across the media, a matrix stamped on the page,
or ink, guided by amplified light. | WPWPWPWPWPWPWPWPWP .. . ... COMIT
C:\> Celestial Tramp
COMIT ATSO=ATDT943-7118 | Waldo, the remote control of a ship,
all things cyber, accessible. Twenty-four hundred baud, hands shaken,
hayes compatible harmonic progression. Vax digitalis, the vessel
of exploration (apples have worms).
Anonymous login, password given. A compiled archive, open to
the masses. Directory changed, a list of jewels. Amid the glitter,
a Trojan horse dwells, rolled into the heart of the fortress.
Corruption, the price of expedition. Virii complete the cycle,
ensuring the eternal return of C:\> ... .. . ... .. .... .. .. ... .
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++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++
_________________________________________________
/ W o r l d N e t \
\____________ Tour Guide ____________/
\_______________________/
| Institute For |
| Global |
\ Communications /
\---------------/
WorldNet Tour Guide is a periodic feature which appears in ICS
from time to time. The Guide consists of articles designed to help you
in using the WorldNet to the fullest potential. These articles will
range from tutorials on aspects of WorldNet (programs) to reviews of
places we find on the WorldNet (content). Why? Because together we know
more than any one of us can know.
If you would like to write a file or document to appear in this
section, please do so. Send your final copy (in ASCII format) to:
ORG_ZINE@WSC.COLORADO.EDU
-------
The Institute for Global Communications [IGC] gopher server offers
a veritable bonanza of information on economic, labor, conflict, and
human rights issues. Access by pointing your gopher server to:
gopher igc.org 70.
From the main menu, you can choose directories filled with files
culled from the four sub-networks IGC maintains - EcoNet, PeaceNet,
ConflictNet, and LaborNet. If you are interested in participating in
realtime conferences, establishing an email address, or just getting
access to the WorldNet, IGC will sell you an account for a modest fee -
there are several "brochures" or readme files in the "About IGC
Networks ... " directory. Browsing and downloading the rest of the
files is, of course, free to anyone with access to gopher service.
Cruising the rest of the directories, you will find a plethora
of info: useful publications and news services from around the world;
"IGC Headline news" and stored files from the four subnets; there are
also directories related to issues of Race/Ethnicity, trade and sustainable
development, education, government and law, women's issues, health, and
United Nations/International Agencies releases. IGC also provides access to
files listing "progressive gophers" and Internet resources.
As with most large gopher sites, it's easy to find yourself wandering
through the IGC files somewhat aimlessly - bring your curiosity and a sense
of intellectual adventure with you. Overall, the IGC filenames are fairly
explicit and the directories well organized. The EcoNet archive is especially
useful for anyone engaged in an Environmental studies program - fresh material,
right from the source.
Philosophically, IGC stands out as a shining example of what the WorldNet
can do to advance human knowledge and open new channels of communication.
In their "brochure" files, IGC claims to "provide computer networking tools
for international communications and information exchange. The IGC Networks -
PeaceNet, EcoNet, ConflictNet and LaborNet - comprise the world's only computer
communications system dedicated solely to environmental preservation, peace,
and human rights". IGC, based in San Francisco, CA, USA, is a division of the
Tides Foundation, a 501(c)(3) tax-exempt organization.
For more information, email: "support@igc.apc.org"
<><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><>
+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++
*=======================*
\ Fall Impressions \
\ \
\ By David Trosty \
*-----------------------*
-----------------------------
Breathing
Just one little cloud
In my control like fog hangs
Over gems on grass
-------------------------------
Woldumar
Me and my stillness
Lie deep within the damp wood
As the wind flows by
-----------------------------------
An immense sheet of glass
Untouched and unrippled by the winds of dawn
Gently licks at the quartz-like shore
--------------------------------
Grand River Trail
As I listen to the sounds of the evening forest,
A certain question always passes through my mind;
Are the songs of the birds layered,
Or simply stacked, like a child's blocks?
-------------------------------------
Baldwin
As we drive through the dark
Under a canopy of shadows
The deer glance at us with their cold, frightened eyes,
Then dart away.
------------------------------------
Choo-Choo
Cider,
Sweet apples
Leaves falling from trees
On cool, brisk fall days
Picking pumpkins at the pumpkin patch
Warm fires and steaming donuts
And best of all, a warm cat on my lap.
------------------------
The essence of friends
Is revealed most succinctly
By what they do not
--------------------------
What does lizard know?
He ponders the universe
or my living room
---------------------------
Permafrost lays still
God's brush lays a smattering
Upon the bowls
-----------------------------------------------------------
++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++
- *********************************************************************
---------------------------
One Year Later
It crushes me
Yet I arise
A Phoenix from the ashes of my soul.
I stand again
legs wobbling
My heart shudders in my chest
When I think of the not-forgotten days of my past.
There I shared my joy with the joyous
Love with the loved
And frustration with the frustrated.
--------------------------------
Naturally she fits
A leaf on the forest floor
Her beauty lays still
-----------------------
Provocative eyes
Strip me to naked spirit
She is frightened now
-----------------
Right away I know
She doesn't need me--she's solid
For this I want her
-----------------------------
Gentle as a fawn
She reminds me of nature
Distant like nature
---------------------------
==========================================================================
+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++
The World Sucks (and I'm not so nice either)
Please leave me alone
Let me fuck up in peace.
You can't make me change
So stop trying.
It's not that I don't appreciate it
It's just that I find it annoying
That's all.
I need to learn the hard way
And I will in due time.
You see, I'm not sure that I want what I'm supposed to.
I'm not sure that I want
a steady job
and a wife
and kids.
Suburbia.
I want to travel
and play music
and see what the world is really like.
Is reality such an awful thing to want?
-------------------------
The rock and roll games
We sometimes rock and roll play
Strain rock and roll brains
------------------------
Blue mists surround me
Summoning, reaching my soul
My panacea
------------------------
Grasping at the sun
The vision becomes stronger
My eyes fuse my mind
-----------------------------
Muscles torquing-Tense
Ears-telegraph to the spirit
Sonicly relax
------------------------
Road noise resounding
Lone traveler's lullaby
Singing songs of death
---------------------------
Showtime-five minutes
The stomach knots, fingers sweat
The performer thrives
-----------------------
Oh plastic soul-mate
I kiss you every single day
Fill me with your breath
+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++
- **************************************************************
+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++
Rite of Fire
By Russell Hutchison
Part 1
Patch eased his truck into the closest open parking space to the
night club that he could find, taking the time to light a cigarette before
killing the headlights and windshield-washers. The cheerless pale green
glow of the dashboard clock read twenty before nine. He was early, as
usual. In his normal routine of trying to foresee all eventualities he
had over-estimated his travel time. He had thought that he might have
needed to bribe the 6th Street Nation to let him through their turf
unmolested. But Patch hadn't seen a single one of the gang's soldiers,
ever though the rain wasn't really coming down hard. He had at least
expected the police to pull him over and question him about the bullet
hole in his passenger window.
"Not like bullet holes in cars are uncommon in this day and age,"
he thought. Patch just chalked his nervousness up to chronic paranoia ...
and bad luck. He sat quietly in the still darkness and tried to wait,
while rain tapped over the car like a hundred invisible fingers gently
playing out a rhythmless tune.
Patch glanced at the pale green glow ... only five minutes had
passed. He brought his cigarette up just a few centimeters from his nose.
Unfocusing his eyes, he stared into the blurry red cherry.
"I hate waiting," he sighed. Acidic smoke caressed his eyes,
he momentarily screwed them shut against the pain, then ground the
cigarette out against his still-damp trenchcoat sleeve.
The parking lot of the Deliverance nightclub was dark as pitch
except for the neon red sign of the club's name beside the door, the
light making the dark water pooled in front of the club look uncomfortably
like blood. Local residents and loving customers had killed all the street
lights by rock, bottle or gun so often that no one bothered to revive or
replace them anymore. The low cloudy skies and rain just made visibility
worse. Patch was glad that the rain cleared away the usually-oppressive
smog--respirators weren't necessary.
Patch decided to make use of his time by checking his equipment
and doing a little scouting around the meeting sight. He reached into his
wet-rimmed trenchcoat pocket and pulled out a boxy pair of thermographic
goggles, keyed the on swich and pulled them over his head. The dark of
night was replaced by varying shades of green. He unrolled the window and
poked his head out into the acidic rain. No people were in sight, but several
cars glowed green-white with heat. One looked like an expensive Saab in the
grainy digitalized image of the goggles.
"Probably belongs to our contact," Patch thought. He took off the
goggles and rolled up the window.
The rest of his equipment was all in order. The .357 Remington
'Trench Cannon' semi-automatic pistol was in its shoulder holster, locked
and loaded, and he had two spare clips in a fanny-pack resting in the
passenger seat. The pack also contained a flash/sound suppressor, a third of
a pack of cigarettes, an antique zippo lighter, and Patch's identity/bank card.
In his trenchcoat pockets he had his thermographic goggles and a palm-sized
video recorder. On his left forearm he wore his wrist computer and a vidphone.
A sharp rap on the plastic window startled Patch. He grabbed the
butt of his gun and looked for what had made the noise. The dark outline of
a person stood just outside the truck door. Patch couldn't tell if the person
had a gun pointed at him or not--he decided to gamble that he/she didn't
and hit the door open button, simultaneously kicking it. The door slammed
into the form and sent it crashing into the adjacent car with a cry of alarm.
The 'Cannon was out of its holster and pointed at the figure now illuminated
by the truck's weak overhead light. Patch cranked the hammer back.
"Don't shoot! It's me, Gecko!" the figure yelled.
Relief washed over Patch like warm water and quickly drained away
the adrenalin rush. Patch's heart hammered in his chest and weakness settled
into his body. He lowered the gun and tried to even out his breathing,
closing his eyes and letting the shakes in his hands diminish.
While Patch tried to recover, Gecko started to curse him out for the
near-fatal encounter.
"Are you blind, Patchwork?! Didn't you see my wave-off or are you
just a little too jumpy to look for those kinds of details?! What the fuck
were you thinking? If I was a ganger trying to mug you I'd wait 'til you
got out and if I was going to steal your truck I'd shoot you through the
window!...Give you a matching pair."
The dry humor helped Patch recover his wits. Gecko's trial made
him feel like a first-time street operative who barely knew which gang
hand signals meant friend or enemy. That pissed him off. But since Patch
had almost shot his friend he decided he didn't have too much room to bitch
back--but he had some.
"Like I could see your wave-off in this rainy soup! And don't
call me Patchwork or I'll shoot you!" 'Patchwork' was the nickname
Patch had been give when he had acidently burned a near perfect circle
around his right eye with chemicals. The skin there couldn't tan. That
had been over six months ago and he still bristled at the name. At least
his friends had stopped with the "Patchwork the flaming pyro" jokes.
The rain was the only sound for a few moments, soaking slowly
and cooly into Patch's pantlegs and coating his hands and coat sleeves.
Patch could see Gecko glaring at him despite the shadows concealing much
of his face. He could also tell that his comeback had not been very
impressive. "I hate appologizing," he thought.
"Sorry Gecko," he said with as little emotion as possible.
"Apology accepted." Gecko moved to sit on the hood of the
adjacent car, massaging his right knee. Gecko knew that he was not
going to get anything else from Patch. He was just glad that it hadn't
been Doc who Patch had knocked over, or Doc would have pulled his gun and
one of the two hot-heads would have shot the other. "Are you ready to talk
business?"
"Yea, give me a second." Patch slid his gun back into its
holster and then grabbed the fanny-pack. One thing Patch always liked
about Gecko, he never let disagreements hamper his performance when it
came to business. Patch also retrieved a pen light from the glove
compartment. "I think that Saab over there might belong to our contact.
It's the most expensive car in the lot."
"So?"
"So I wanna' see who it belongs to in case we're given a false
contact name and things get hosed up."
"Good idea."
"Do you recall the counter for the challange that the Father
told us?"
"Yea, he only repeated it ten times."
"Good. When they challenge us you give the counter."
"OK."
Patch donned his weathered fedora and lit up another cigarette
before getting out of his truck, closing and locking the door after him.
"Where'd you park? I didn't see your van when I drove up."
"Down the street. If the shit hits the fan we can head there."
The pair walked towards the Saab, not bothering to avoid the
dark puddles since they both wore military combat boots. Patch squatted
at the rear of the car and read the plates. GRF-3854. He entered it
into his wrist computer under the file name UNKNOWN. "I'm disappointed.
I was expecting something personalized on a car this nice."
"The cheap bastards," Gecko said in a toneless voice.
Patch rose and they continued towards the entrance of the club.
The faint music coming through the thick metal door turned into a roar when
Gecko pulled on the cold steel bar that was the handle. The song was heavy
on the percussion; it sounded like half empty fifty-gallon drums being
beaten with metal bars and made conversation nearly require a PA system.
The Deliverance was packed with it's usual denizens, people whose slow-
moving forms were obscured by the dim light. They rarely moved from their
tables or bar seats until their drinking forced them to. Massive bouncers
drifted through the club like hungry prowling dogs, eyeing the crowd for
trouble like it was food.
The dance floor was more active. It looked like a cross between
a masquerade and a dancing lingerie show. The strobe light turned all
the dancing into choppy freeze frames of chaos. One of the most
impressive attractions of Deliverance were the 3-D hologram projectors
under the clear floor--they projected images in the gaps between the
dancers. Images were sent in from all over the world via computer and
ranged from graphic child pornography to mythical creatures lunging and
attacking. The sole limiting qualification on their holos was that they
had to be of the highest quality. Patch often wondered who had the job
of editing what came through. He also thought the best time on the dance
floor was when the holos were the only things there.
Patch and Gecko's eyes adjusted quickly to the meager light,
they immediately began to work their way toward the besieged bar.
The spoor of various illegal substances came and went on their short trek
through the tables. Occasional shadowed faces with grim or all-too-happy
expressions glanced up as they passed. One man barked some curses and
threats toward them for accidentally dripping water on him as they passed.
Gecko was the only one who heard the threats, but he chose to ignore them.
He didn't blame the man though. The rain was acidic enough to stain clothes
in less than a week of light showers, and most people left their coats and
hats at the coat check next to the door.
Patch leaned between a pair of customers who were nursing their drinks
and tapped the balding bartender on his shoulder. It was the club's owner.
"Hey Alan! What's the matter? Loose your normal bartender?"
The rotund man squinted to see Patch's face in the shadow of his
fedora. "Ah...Oh! Hey Rand. Yea, she skipped out last night."
"I'm working, Alan. Call me Patch."
"Oh yea. The guys you want are upstairs in the first balcony room.
One girl, one guy, actually. Nice clothes. I think they're both packing,
but the girl's hands look too nice to be used for fighting. Guy's definitely
a guard or sumpthin'."
Patch knew the balcony was directly behind him and the people
there could be watching him right now through the one-way mirrored plexglass.
Subtly checking to make sure his gun was unstrapped and the safety was off,
Patch thanked Alan and started for the stairs at the end of the bar.
Taking the stairs one at a time Patch pulled up the sleeve of
his coat and turned on his wrist computer. He named the file UNKNOWN,
MEETING, started it recording, and dimmed the screen so it looked
like it was off. The stairs ascended away from the balcony rooms, then
doubled back to the right. Rounding the corner they were greeted by a
bouncer with a gun held lazily in one hand, blocking the catwalk.
The bouncer pressed a button on the wall. Patch knew it caused a buzzer
and light to signal down behind the bar. The man stepped aside when Alan
gave him the OK signal.
The music was even louder up in the rafters; it was where the
speakers were located. Patch began to notice that the present song was
very repetitive. "You must have to be drugged-up to appreciate it," he
thought. He was having a hard time trying not to draw his gun and
shoot the speakers.
The catwalk was about five meters above the floor and completely
exposed to the view of anyone within the balcony rooms. Thus, people
engaging in illegal activity could have time to prepare before the
police could get to them. The catwalk eventually ran along the side
of the first balcony room, the wall blocking the view of Patch and
Gecko. As he took the last few steps to the door, Patch put his hands
into his pockets. He took the camcorder in his right hand and turned it
on, then stuck the lens out the corner of his pocket. Stepping aside,
he let Gecko open the door and enter first.
As Gecko moved in, Patch ran his free hand over his beard and
mustache to make sure no rain water was dripping off of it. He then
followed Gecko, turning to close the door and making sure the camcorder
got a good shot of both occupants before stuffing it back into his
pocket. The man was as tall as Patch with his red hair cut short.
Patch couldn't tell the color of his eyes from this distance. Of more
concern to him was the cut of the man's suit, designed to have a gun in a
shoulder holster and not show an obvious bulge. The woman had straight
shoulder length blond hair and probably blue eyes since that was the
color of her mascara.
The music was cut off with the thump of the sound-proof door and
the woman began to speak as soon as Patch turned.
"Are you the waiters?" She began in a cultured english accent.
Both Gecko and Patch recognized the password for what it was.
The Father who had called Patch and Gecko for the job-meet had given
them the proper response to the challenge.
"No. We're here for the Deliverance Club...Boardmeeting."
Patch knew the most important part of the message was the pause.
Without the pause the other party would know something was wrong and
scrap the meet.
"Thank you for meeting me on such short notice, gentlemen.
You may call me Rosi. This is my associate, Patrick."
"I'm called Gecko, this is Patch."
Patch sat at the head of table opposite Rosi while Gecko took
the seat on his right. Patrick remained standing about one meter behind
Rosi and a meter to her right, giving him a clear view to both men...and
a clear field of fire.
Rosi appeared to be waiting for the newcomers to say something,
so Patch started. "Father said you need a short notice, mid to high-
security penetration and retrieval team. Well ... we're here."
"This is your complete team? I was told there would be
four of you."
"The presence of the other two is unnecessary for these
negotiations."
"I see. Then here is what I would like to hire you to do.
Earlier today, a hacker hired by the interests I represent infiltrated
the GMC Research and Development compound and mainframe in Detroit.
He was hired to copy and erase all computer stored information on their
new, high performance electric engine...including the back-up files.
He succeeded in eliminating the backups and was perparing to download the
source files out of the facility when all outside non-GMC connections
were severed. He didn't have the materials on hand to copy this
information and transport it physically. However, he did manage to move
it to a different GMC branch office. The information is presently residing
in the Denver GMC Information Offices in the Metzler Centre's second
building, not five miles away. As far as we can tell GMC thinks the
information was copied and extracted from the R&D facility, or is hidden
within said facility's bounds. They haven't thought to check their
other offices yet, but it has only been two hours. It won't be much
longer. We estimate a thirty-five percent chance within the next twenty
four hours. Seventy percent in the next forty-eight."
"What area in the branch office mainframe is the file in, and
under what file name," asked Gecko.
"The hacker erased the sales records for the months of July
through December of last year and placed appropriate sized portions
of the GMC file to fill the correct amount of disk quota. These are the
files you need to retrieve."
"We're a physical penetration team. Why don't you have another
hacker pull the files?" Gecko asked.
Patch answered before Rosi could. "Because the branch office
might have backed up their files as well, giving GMC a copy that can't
be touched without physical penetration."
Rosi nodded. "We need those copies erased or taken as well."
"Our team can handle the job," Patch said. "Now lets talk
price."
"I am prepared to pay you four hundred thousand plus a one
hundred thousand bonus if it's done by five tomorrow. Twenty percent
up front, balance on delivery."
"You've got yourself a team."
"Good. When you've got the file, contact me at this phone number
to arrange delivery and payment site."
Without another word, Rosi set a plastic card on the table along
with a piece of paper. She then stood and left the room with Patrick in
tow. After the door severed the surging music, Gecko began to talk.
"Five hundred K! They must want that file bad." He stood up
and started walking towards the card and paper. Patch noticed that he
held a bug scanner in one hand. He began to search around where Rosi had
been sitting, all the while keeping up useless chatter. "And did you see the
way that Patrick guy kept his hand right in front of his jacket like he
was about to grab his gun at any second?"
"Maybe he felt he was going to sneeze and had a Kleenex in his
pocket," Patch guessed. "It would have been a damn shame if he had
tried to reach for it and I'd shot him. I know I wouldn't want to go
like that. Zipped up in a bag with snot all over my face and a tissue
stuck to my nose."
Gecko stood up to display a small silvery device that Patch
couldn't see too clearly, he dropped it to the floor. He began to stomp
vigorously on it for a few seconds, bobbing his baseball cap clad head in
time with his foot. Eventually, he began to study his bug scanner again.
"Clean," he announced. "It was an expensive one too. You think
it belonged to our contacts?"
"Positive. Alan checks each meeting room after every meeting
with a better bug scanner than yours. He controls the locks from his
office and never opens the door until the first party is at the room.
If our contacts are as paranoid as they seem, they would have scanned
the room too. So that mean it belongs to them. The card?"
Gecko recovered both objects from the table, looking at the
plastic card first. "Certified cashier card for eighty thousand."
He glanced at the phone number. "She doesn't cross her sevens.
I don't think she's British."
Patch nodded. "Both were wearing Mid-West American fashion.
Shoes and clothes. It was a good try but she's definitely local."
"So, do you think we'll go in tonight?"
"No. The Metzler Center has very good security. We'll need
some kind of distraction or confusion."
Gecko had walked back to Patch's side and gave him the phone number.
He entered it into the file UNKNOWN and changed the file name to ROSI/METZLER.
He also changed the file UNKNOWN, MEETING to METZLER-PENETRATION, MEETING and
stopped the file from recording. "Call Doc and Raze. Tell them to be at the
planning room at eleven. Then go to see if the Saab is gone and meet them
at the room. Take the card and pay them."
"What are you going to do?"
"I'm going to sit, drink and think for a while. I'll meet you there."
"OK. See ya."
As the door closed, Patch pressed the table's Drink Call button.
Alan's voice originated from a speaker in the cealing, music thundering
in the background.
"Whatya' need?"
Still holding the button down Patch responded, "Whiskey sour."
He released the button and popped up the screen of the built-in computer
lurking under the dark platue of the table. His drink arrived shortly and,
hearing a good song playing, he turned up the volume, feeding the music
into the room. Patch killed the next hour and a second whiskey-sour finding
out all he could about the Metzler Center and the GMC branch office.
===========================================================================
| Coming Soon - Part 2 of Rite Of Fire ... |
===========================================================================
+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++
******************
* Last Word *
* ----------- *
* By Steven Peterson *
*************************
Here we are again - the end of another issue. And the beginning
for David Trosty, our new Poetry editor. David plans to look into the
digital music scene, offer his own poems, and arrange poetry submissions.
Drop him some email, folks (but remember, he's still new).
Last month, I attempted to fashion a demographic portrait of the
ICS subscription list, and I thought it might be interesting to share
some of the results. NOTE: this analysis was performed for inhouse use
ONLY - we will never divulge your addresses, even under pain of torture.
The portrait classifies everyone by geographic location:
Network Breakdown: All subscribers fall into one of ten network
categories determined by the last part of the address.
Total = 904 Outside U.S.: 159+ Inside U.S.: 596+ Local [WSC]: 47
(^most U.S. are on the EDU backbone)
----------------------------------------------------------------------
Location Breakdown: Outside U.S. <Country - [Domain Code] - number>
Australia [AU]:----- 10 Ireland [IE]:------ 7
Austria [AT]:-------- 5 Israel [IL]:------- 2
Belgium [BE]:-------- 1 Italy [IT]:-------- 6
Brazil [BR]:--------- 7 Japan [JP]:-------- 2
Canada [CA]:-------- 57 Mexico [MX]:------- 2
Chile [CL]:---------- 1 Netherlands [NL]:-- 6
China [CN]:---------- 1 New Zealand [NZ]:-- 3
Czechoslovakia [CS]:- 2 Norway [NO]:------- 1
England/U.K. [UK]:-- 21 Portugal [PT]:----- 1
Finland [FI]:-------- 5 Singapore [SG]:---- 1
France [FR]:--------- 4 Spain [ES]:-------- 1
Germany [DE]:------- 10 Sweden [SE]:------- 3
Hong Kong [HK]:------ 1 Thailand ---------- 1
----------------------------------------------------------------------
Intriguing, no? After 16 months, we're contemplating a limited
subscription drive (our 'base has been dwindling steadily since 93),
and I'm not sure what's appropriate these days ... I know that mass
mailings and cross-postings are a definite no-no. A selective choice
of ListServ postings (brief, of course) seems the obvious choice.
Tell us what you think! Given the row over the notorious lawyer
bandwidth-burning ads (bulk netmailing on a global scale), how do you
feel advertising should be handled on the 'Net? How about for non-profit
outfits like ICS? Or is a thousand subscribers a good, round number for
a 'zine?
Think about it, and email your thoughts to ICS. And hey, all you
new subscribers, welcome!
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
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