"Spider Robinson - Post Toast" - читать интересную книгу автора (Robinson Spider)

"The denizens of this world called USENET, see, were kind of like Jubal Harshaw's proverbial editor
and his soup. Having invented a sci-fi writer named Spider, they decided they liked some of his stories
enough to make them real. So, 7 or 8 years ago, they did.
"That's right, jadies and lentilmen: they whipped up their own Callahan's Place, out of thin air! It's
called alt.callahans..."
(a ROAR of astonishment and confusion and glee and outrage and disbelief...which finally morphs
into a long rolling wave of laughter...followed by another...and another)
"Now, I know what many of you want to hear about. You want me to tell you all the countless little
ways their Callahan's Place is different from the one you lot used to drink in, and from Mary's Place
here. And there are a lot of differences, and maybe we can talk about them another time. But the things
I want to tell you first -- the most important things -- are the ways their Callahan's Place is LIKE yours."
"Do they make rotten puns there?" Doc Webster calls.
"Do dey make music dere?" Fast Eddie asks.
"Do they drink there?" Long-Drink bellows.
"Do they smash their glasses in the fireplace?" Tommy Janssen asks, and the rumble of the crowd
indicates that he has come closest so far to a good question.
"None of that is really important," Jake Stonebender says, meeting Spider's eye. "What about the
IMPORTANT stuff, Spider? Did they get THAT right?"
The room falls silent.
Slowly, enjoying the suspense, Spider lets his poker face relax into a crooked smile.
"As far as I can tell, they DID, Jake. At alt.callahans they believe that shared pain is diminished, and
that shared joy is increased, just like here. They believe that a snoopy question merits a mild
concussion. They help the ones that hurt and make merry with the ones that don't."
(stunned silence in Mary's Place)
"They care about one another, there, 24-7. They don't make any magical claims, but they seem to
have compassion by the carload, and they value kindness over hipness. And they use a system of
communication that's startlingly like the telepathy you folks are shooting for here. Oh, there's a social
disease rampant in their world with a horrid symptom called 'flaming' -- but they suffer far less from it
than just about anywhere else in their ficton. First-time visitors are not called the 'n-word' there, for
instance, as is customary elsewhere. Just like here, alt.callahans seems to be a place where it's All Right
To Be Bright, where it's All Right To Be Dull, where it's all right to be any damn thing at all except a pain
in the ass. You know the Invisible Protective Shield around this place? The magic force field that keeps
out the bikers and dealers and predators and drinking alcoholics and kids looking to raise hell? Well,
they've got one too, called a Sysop.
"And yes, they make exceedingly rotten puns there. And some splendid music. And they tell toxic
jokes. Don't tell anybody, but I've already pinched a couple."
Doc Webster clears his throat. "Uh...how big a joint are we talking about, Spiderman?"
Spider grins. "Nobody knows. This USENET ficton is a truly weird universe, a snake's orgy of
nodes and channels and webs and threads, and as far as I know there is no truly accurate census, and
alt.callahans runs all through it like kudzu...and branches off from there to ANOTHER ficton called --
you won't believe this one! -- The Web. But the best guess I heard was, well in excess of 61,000
people are regular patrons. It's said to be in the top one percent of bars there, by size, and furthermore
to be damn near the only one in the top two percent that doesn't have topless bottomless waitresses and
a live donkey show. THIS Callahan's Place probably couldn't be destroyed by FIFTY nukes, all going
off at once."
(a vast collective intake of breath nearly extinguishes the fire in the hearth)
"Put it this way," Spider says. "In January of 1995 -- their 1995 -- these people exchanged more
words than I have written about you bozos in two dozen years of doing so for my living. Six and a half
MEGABYTES."
"What kind of words?" Jake asks.