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