Глава Arbitrating Anarchy из книги Cyberia, 1994 год.
David Gans, host of The Grateful Dead Hour (the national radio
program that our Columbia University hacker taped a few nights ago) is
having a strange week. The proposal he's writing for his fourth Grateful
Dead book is late, he still has to go into the studio to record his radio show,
his band rehearsal didn't get out until close to dawn, and something odd is
occurring on the WELL this morning. Gans generally spends at least several
hours a day sitting in his Oakland studio apartment, logged onto the WELL.
A charter member of the original WELL bulletin board, he's since become
host of dozens of conferences and topics ranging from the Grateful Dead to
the Electronic Frontiers Foundation. In any given week, he's got to help
guide hundreds or even thousands of computer interchanges. But this week
there are even more considerations. An annoying new presence has made
itself known on the WELL: a user calling himself "Stink.''
Stink showed up late one night in the Grateful Dead conference,
insisting to all the Deadheads that "Jerry Garcia stinks.'' In the name of
decorum and tolerance, the Deadheads decided among themselves to ignore
the prankster. "Maybe he'll get bored and go away,'' Gans repeatedly
suggested. WELLbeings enjoy thinking of the WELL as a loving, anarchic
open house, and resort to blocking someone out completely only if he's truly
dangerous. Stealing passwords or credit card numbers, for example, is a
much more excommunicable deed than merely annoying people with nasty
comments.
But today David Gans's electronic mailbox is filled with messages from
angry female WELLbeings. Stink has begun doing "sends''--immediate E-mail
messages that appear on the recipient's screen with a "beep,'' interrupting
whatever she is doing. People usually use sends when they notice that a
good friend has logged on and want to experience a brief, "live'' interchange.
No one "sends'' a stranger. But, according to Gans's E-mail, females logged
on to the WELL are receiving messages like "Wanna dance?'' or "Your place
or mine?'' on their screens, and have gotten a bit irked. Anonymous phone
calls can leave a girl feeling chilly, at the very least. This is somehow an
even greater violation of privacy. From reading the girl's postings, he knows
her name, the topics she enjoys, how she feels about issues; if he's a
hacker, who knows how much more he knows?
David realizes that giving Stink the silent treatment isn't working. But
what to do? He takes it to the WELL staff, who, after discussing the problem
with several other distressed topic hosts, decide to put Stink into a "problem
shell.'' Whenever he tries to log on to the WELL, he'll receive a message to
call the main office and talk to a staff member. Until he does so, he is locked
out of the system.
Stink tries to log on and receives the message, but he doesn't call in.
Days pass. The issue seems dead. But topics about Stink and the
implications of his mischievous presence begin to spring up all over the
WELL. Many applaud the banishment of Stink, while others warn that this is
the beginning of censorship. "How,'' someone asks, "can we call ourselves
an open, virtual community if we lock out those who don't communicate the
way we like? Think of how many of us could have been kicked off the WELL
by the same logic?'' "What are we, Carebears?'' another retorts. "This guy
was sick!''
David lets the arguments continue, defending the WELL staff's
decision-making process where he can, stressing how many painful hours
were spent deliberating on this issue. Meanwhile, though, he begins to do
some research of his own and notices that Stink's last name--not a common
one--is the same as another user of the WELL called Bennett. David takes a
gamble and E-mails Bennett, who tells him that he's seen Stink's postings
but that there's no relation.
But the next day, there's a new, startling addition to a special
"confession'' conference: Bennett admits that he is Stink. Stink's WELL
account had been opened by Bennett's brother but never used. Bennett
reopened the account and began using it as a joke, to vent his "alter ego.''
Free of his regular identity, he could be whoever he wanted and act however
he dared with no personal repercussions. What had begun as a kind of
thought experiment or acting exercise had soon gotten out of hand. The
alter ego went out of control. Bennett, it turns out, was a mild-mannered
member of conferences like Christianity, and in his regular persona had even
consoled a fellow WELLbeing after her husband died. Bennett is not a
hacker-kid; he has a wife and children, a job, a religion, a social conscience,
and a fairly quiet disposition. He begs for the forgiveness of other
WELLbeings and says he confessed because he felt so guilty lying to David
Gans about what had happened. He wants to remain a member of the cyber
community and eventually regain the trust of WELLbeings.
Some WELLbeings believe Bennett and forgive him. Others do not. "He
just confessed because he knows you were on to him, David. Good work.''
Some suggest a suspension, or even a community service sentence: "Isn't
there some administrative stuff he can do at the WELL office as penance?''
But most people just wonder out loud about the strange cyber
experience of this schizoid WELLbeing, and what it means for the Global
Village at large. Was Bennett like this all the time and Stink merely a
suppressed personality, or did Cyberia affect his psyche adversely, creating
Stink where he didn't exist before? How vulnerable are the rest of us when
one goes off his virtual rocker? Do the psychology and neurosis of everyday
real-life human interactions need to follow us into cyberspace, or is there a
way to leave them behind? Just how intimate can we get through our
computers, and at what cost?
program that our Columbia University hacker taped a few nights ago) is
having a strange week. The proposal he's writing for his fourth Grateful
Dead book is late, he still has to go into the studio to record his radio show,
his band rehearsal didn't get out until close to dawn, and something odd is
occurring on the WELL this morning. Gans generally spends at least several
hours a day sitting in his Oakland studio apartment, logged onto the WELL.
A charter member of the original WELL bulletin board, he's since become
host of dozens of conferences and topics ranging from the Grateful Dead to
the Electronic Frontiers Foundation. In any given week, he's got to help
guide hundreds or even thousands of computer interchanges. But this week
there are even more considerations. An annoying new presence has made
itself known on the WELL: a user calling himself "Stink.''
Stink showed up late one night in the Grateful Dead conference,
insisting to all the Deadheads that "Jerry Garcia stinks.'' In the name of
decorum and tolerance, the Deadheads decided among themselves to ignore
the prankster. "Maybe he'll get bored and go away,'' Gans repeatedly
suggested. WELLbeings enjoy thinking of the WELL as a loving, anarchic
open house, and resort to blocking someone out completely only if he's truly
dangerous. Stealing passwords or credit card numbers, for example, is a
much more excommunicable deed than merely annoying people with nasty
comments.
But today David Gans's electronic mailbox is filled with messages from
angry female WELLbeings. Stink has begun doing "sends''--immediate E-mail
messages that appear on the recipient's screen with a "beep,'' interrupting
whatever she is doing. People usually use sends when they notice that a
good friend has logged on and want to experience a brief, "live'' interchange.
No one "sends'' a stranger. But, according to Gans's E-mail, females logged
on to the WELL are receiving messages like "Wanna dance?'' or "Your place
or mine?'' on their screens, and have gotten a bit irked. Anonymous phone
calls can leave a girl feeling chilly, at the very least. This is somehow an
even greater violation of privacy. From reading the girl's postings, he knows
her name, the topics she enjoys, how she feels about issues; if he's a
hacker, who knows how much more he knows?
David realizes that giving Stink the silent treatment isn't working. But
what to do? He takes it to the WELL staff, who, after discussing the problem
with several other distressed topic hosts, decide to put Stink into a "problem
shell.'' Whenever he tries to log on to the WELL, he'll receive a message to
call the main office and talk to a staff member. Until he does so, he is locked
out of the system.
Stink tries to log on and receives the message, but he doesn't call in.
Days pass. The issue seems dead. But topics about Stink and the
implications of his mischievous presence begin to spring up all over the
WELL. Many applaud the banishment of Stink, while others warn that this is
the beginning of censorship. "How,'' someone asks, "can we call ourselves
an open, virtual community if we lock out those who don't communicate the
way we like? Think of how many of us could have been kicked off the WELL
by the same logic?'' "What are we, Carebears?'' another retorts. "This guy
was sick!''
David lets the arguments continue, defending the WELL staff's
decision-making process where he can, stressing how many painful hours
were spent deliberating on this issue. Meanwhile, though, he begins to do
some research of his own and notices that Stink's last name--not a common
one--is the same as another user of the WELL called Bennett. David takes a
gamble and E-mails Bennett, who tells him that he's seen Stink's postings
but that there's no relation.
But the next day, there's a new, startling addition to a special
"confession'' conference: Bennett admits that he is Stink. Stink's WELL
account had been opened by Bennett's brother but never used. Bennett
reopened the account and began using it as a joke, to vent his "alter ego.''
Free of his regular identity, he could be whoever he wanted and act however
he dared with no personal repercussions. What had begun as a kind of
thought experiment or acting exercise had soon gotten out of hand. The
alter ego went out of control. Bennett, it turns out, was a mild-mannered
member of conferences like Christianity, and in his regular persona had even
consoled a fellow WELLbeing after her husband died. Bennett is not a
hacker-kid; he has a wife and children, a job, a religion, a social conscience,
and a fairly quiet disposition. He begs for the forgiveness of other
WELLbeings and says he confessed because he felt so guilty lying to David
Gans about what had happened. He wants to remain a member of the cyber
community and eventually regain the trust of WELLbeings.
Some WELLbeings believe Bennett and forgive him. Others do not. "He
just confessed because he knows you were on to him, David. Good work.''
Some suggest a suspension, or even a community service sentence: "Isn't
there some administrative stuff he can do at the WELL office as penance?''
But most people just wonder out loud about the strange cyber
experience of this schizoid WELLbeing, and what it means for the Global
Village at large. Was Bennett like this all the time and Stink merely a
suppressed personality, or did Cyberia affect his psyche adversely, creating
Stink where he didn't exist before? How vulnerable are the rest of us when
one goes off his virtual rocker? Do the psychology and neurosis of everyday
real-life human interactions need to follow us into cyberspace, or is there a
way to leave them behind? Just how intimate can we get through our
computers, and at what cost?