FidoNet came together literally in one instant -- after months orچ years of accumulated thoughts and ideas, many or most otherچ peoples'. Unless you use one of these damn things regularly, it's hard toچ understand, not because anyone is stupid, but because there's aچ number of assumptions that you have to make or understand beforeچ you get what ``network'' really means. A ``network'' is what you and all your friends are -- even beforeچ it became New-Agey to say so. You're all interconnected, in theچ sense that ``messages'' or whatever from one person to another,چ get delivered or heard. Usually, you simply talk to them, inچ person or on the phone. Less important news, who's doing whatچ these days, etc, just sorta filters around, until everyoneچ (usually) hears about it. People sometimes add, subtract, orچ modify information, or simply tell fun stories. Well -- the ``network'' part is the {\it how}, the connections.چ It's usually indulgent to talk about informal human networks. Butچ for computers, they are so stupid you have to lead them to water,چ and tell them where their mouths are. And to put water in it. OK, so what does a computer ``network''? Why, whatever you tellچ them to, of course. I will not attempt to explain to you how a computer stores text.چ You've seen it done, and if you haven't, you'll simply have toچ take it on faith. In one sentence: each graphical symbol (letter,چ puctuation marks, etc) are encoded numerically, and the computerچ stores {\it that}. OK, so now you know you can store ``text''. The trick to a computer network -- interconnected computers withچ the ability to do with ``text'' what you do with your personalچ messages (lose them, pretend you didn't hear, tell the wrongچ person, etc) is to somehow wire the machines together. Computersچ are electrical devices, and so they need wires to connect themچ together. (Keep comments about radio etc to yourself.) Stringing wires to and from every computer you might want toچ ``network'' to is obviously not practical. But, there just soچ happens (probably\dots) to be a wire in your house that {\itچ does} run to everyone elses house -- the telephone system. To cut short a hundred years of boring technological developmentچ -- there's a thing that, you put electrical signals into one end,چ and it makes sound signals out the other end, so that it canچ essentially talk in rigid mathemetical tones. It can listen toچ this crap too. ``Talk'' here means simply transcribe, computerچ says ``1'', device talks ``high tone''\dots device hears ``highچ tone'', and talks ``1''. The thing is called a modem. You buyچ them in a store for \$75 or more. So what you do is get one for every computer. One end connects toچ the computer, the other to the telephone line. Your secondچ telephone line, dedicated to this thing, because I can tell youچ you don't want to share the phone with a machine this stupid. What happens when you do this? Absolutely nothing. YOu can stare at, threaten and bang upon your computer all dayچ long, but it still ain't gonna let you write a letter until youچ run the word processor program. What if it was 1971, and thereچ were no word processor programs? You'd be shit out of luck,چ that's what! And this brings us back to the present dwelling upon the past --چ FidoNet. There were ``computer networks'' at the time I wroteچ FidoNet, but none that a mere mortal could have. (And I was toldچ in no uncertain terms that it was (variously) impossible to do onچ a personal computer, or already done, why bother.) Digression once again. About 1979 or so I had a decent (for the time) CP/M computer, forچ it's time the equivelant to a PC clone 286. I could run most anyچ commercial program, and I wrote my own. I bought what was a bitچ of exotica from a surplus store -- an accoustic modem, which is aچ modem that literally made screaming tones, with what looked likeچ ear muffs into which you jammed the telephone handset afterچ dialing what you hoped was a computer on the other end. I used aچ barbaric program that simply sent every keyboard character to theچ modem, and took whatever data appeared form the modem, to theچ local console screen. Lo, you could type to and from the remoteچ computer. What the remote computer ran was a program called a Bulletinچ Board System, or BBS, which were invented by Ward Christensen andچ Randy Suess, in Chicago, in 1977 or so. It was simply anotherچ decent-sized computer, with a slightly more sophisticated modemچ that could tell when the phone was ringing, and answer itچ automatically (it connected directly to the phone wires, insteadچ of my primitive ear muffs). What was unique was that Ward'n'Randy had written a program thatچ emulated the social structure (if you will) of a supermarketچ bulletin board. There were about 200 slots for text messages.چ After calling in, you could post messages (type them in by hand),چ read existing messages (after specifying which one, by number),چ and you could do things that you couldn't do on a supermarketچ bulletin board -- concepts like the ``next'' or ``previous''چ message (the one posted after or before the one you just read),چ search for a word within messages, and so on. (These additionalچ things or functions are called ``features'' and like in a movieچ theatre, patrons (users) sit and wait to see what's next. It canچ lead to a disease peculiar to computer programmers calledچ ``creeping featuritis''.) Ever listen to ham radio? Boooring. Unless you are into it -- inچ which case drawn out detailed conversations on antennaچ particulars, including number of elements, where bought, bad-weather and bird-shit tall tales, so'n'so's fell down, howچ those screws you sold me got rusty, and so on are excruciatinglyچ interesting. Which they were to me, and a fe thousand others, at that time.چ Mainly it was programmers talking about programmer junk. I can'tچ recall a single thing. In Boston in 1980 there were maybe a dozen? BBS's total. Thereچ were two I called regularly; NECS, the New England COmputerچ Society BBS (I was a member for a while) and the cnode, basedچ upon a software system I never really did understand very well,چ run by a totally cool guy whose name escapes my now, in Andoverچ MA. ANyways, (I am getting back to FidoNet here, hold on) on theچ cnode someone proposed a ``east coast -- west coast computerچ network'', with the incomplete idea of interconnecting a zillionچ computers, enough so that there'd be one in every local-dialingچ area, so you could get a message from one computer to another byچ hopping across each local-call area. Ugh. A mind-bogglingچ prospect.\footnote*{And ten years later, it has almost happenedچ -- the FidoNet has gotten so dense in the Eastern metrosprawlچ that most mail I think from DE to DC to NJ is sent this way. Itچ is alleged to involve incomprehensibly complex routing.} So I read that, along with many other people, and many otherچ messages on many other subjects. I never forgot it though. And Iچ never remembered the author, who persisted in his folly for quiteچ some time. (Silly person.) I worked for Phoenix Software, for Neilچ Colvin\footnote\dag{Though we frequently got on each others'چ nerves, Neil is probably the best person I've ever worked for,چ and the most honest and least cheapskate, and occasionallyچ downright generous. Once for no reason other than they wereچ totally cool, he bought a half-dozen of the then-extreme-tech HP-16C programmers calculators, just to give to his employees.چ Now that's hardcore techie! And I still absolutely relish mine;چ nine years later, I positively love using it, unlike {\it any}چ other techie tool I have.}, at home, on my Multibuss-basedچ computer I got for implementing CP/M on it for the manufacturerچ (Comark Inc). Since we all worked at home, 40 miles or moreچ apart, delivering programs and such was a drag; or worse, afterچ driving from West Medford to North Easton, finding out I forgotچ some damn file or other. So we had modems (by this time almostچ useful; Hayes Smartmodem 1200's, direct-connect no more earچ muffs), and the same barbaric software, and we would call eachچ other up and say ``OK, I have the program for you. Hang up, andچ the next call will be my modem calling'' then I would issue theچ appropriate dial commands to my modem, and Neil would wait forچ the phone to ring, then command his modem to answer the phone,چ and if we were lucky (someone else didn't call, all 10,000 of theچ critical parameters were set properly, etc) you got the {\ttچ CONNECT 1200} message on your screen. You could then proceed toچ type at each other (about as useful as calling on the telephone,چ then putting a rag over your your mouth, and mumbling) and then,چ the magic: transmitting a program or text file from one computerچ to another. (I'm skipping the arcane history and development ofچ what is known as ``file transfer protocols'', or ``error-correcting protocols'', how the computers actuallyچ transmit computer files from one computer to another, phone linesچ or not. Explaining them now would only make things worse.) It was better than driving back the 40 or so miles, to say theچ least, even though the whole thing just sucked. Never mind theچ phone bills. Right before I moved to San Francisco, December `83, I even had aچ simple program that would make my modem answer the phone, make meچ enter a password, and if I got it right, I could operate myچ computer remotely! January 1984 was when the telephone company ``break-up'' (sic)چ was to happen, and I took advantage of it to get a free modemچ from Ma Bell. I was having trouble to get any modem to work atچ high speed over my phone line. The same modems would work on anyچ other line, but not mine. It was obviously the phone line, butچ just try to convince the telco about that. They said, andچ rightly, that they only guarenteed voice quality, and it soundedچ fine. So, I ordered an AT\&T modem, and had {\it them} installچ it, knowing it would fail too. And it did. When the repair guyچ would come over, he would shit bricks when he saw the AT\&Tچ modem. The third repair guy was cool though, and interested inچ modems and such. So he order a frequency-spectrum analysis done,چ and found a ``bad spot'' that suppressed certain frequencies. Butچ nope, there was nothing they could do about it. So when I moved I swiped it. I refused to pay the bill (\$250چ installation, \$40/month, in 1984!) since it never worked, andچ called from SF to disconnect my service. ``And where is theچ equipment?'' the telco drone asks. ``Right here'' said I. Butچ then, it was New England Bell who installed AT\&T equipment, andچ they were trapped in bureaucratic deadlock, because they ewre nowچ all ``separate''! . I never heard from them again. So I'm in San Francisco, and I have an extra computer (an Otronaچ Attach\'e 8:16), and now, an extra modem. I've got all thisچ techie files'n'stuff, and not much to do. BBS technology had ofچ course expanded