JOHNNY INTERNET:
TRANSFER INTERRUPTED!

Johnny Internet stirred and opened his eyes: 8:04 a.m., he read on his wife's bedside clock. Saturday! Hmm. . .

She wasn't there, of course. Miraculously, she rose each morning at dawn, taking advantage of the relative coolness to exercise, read her email, and wash last night's dishes when Johnny forgot. Only he never did, really. Occasionally he would make a conscious decision not to do them, for health reasons, you understand: "Oh man, if I don't go straight to bed, I'm gonna die!"

A large fan by the window blew damp outside air over his sprawled form. Johnny noted with suprise that it felt almost cool -- so much so that the flap of sheet draped over his butt was actually welcome! She must have done this, turned on the fan and covered him, either out of compassion or self-preservation. Best not to analyze, he thought, as he rose and staggered to the bathroom. Certainly not before coffee and the morning comics. And the morning plans!

It was Saturday, remember. The air would be less than lethal for another hour or two. If he got a move on, he could actually get some work done outside: fill the truck with junk, make a dump run, whack some bushes, mow some grass. There was Internet work to do as well, a couple of stories to post and the month's software review to write. Johnny pulled on a pair of shorts and thudded downstairs. No one in sight. His wife was probably off somewhere being productive, he knew. However did she do it? Great leaping Jesus, what would his life be like if she were as lazy as he was?? Too scary a thought for Saturday, he decided. Or was it? These days life itself was getting scary.

His wife had quit her job, opting for an actual life instead, uncertain or not. The ringing in his ears was constant. Someone he knew had just been diagnosed with lung cancer. His in-laws were moving to "assisted living" quarters. Idiot senators 90 miles away were fighting over imagined surpluses. The entire state of Maryland was under a "drought emergency," whatever that meant (if it's yellow let it mellow, if it's brown flush it down). . . and out West, evil "super-Walmarts" and casino development were threatening to turn his next home town to crap.

And yet, and yet. . .

Ye gods! Was it only last week that he had been at Macworld? Right there in the Big Apple? Sitting in the press section watching Steve Jobs??

His first Macworld! When the Apple reps finally opened the doors to the press, Johnny forgot all about the hour and 45 minutes spent standing in line. He moved slowly and deliberately into the big black hall, taking it all in. What was that? Buddy Holly music! Suddenly a dozen pounds lighter, he quickened his pace. Not bad, not bad at all, he thought: here he was in an official capacity at the Mecca of Macdom, walking into the keynote speech to the stutter and throb of "Rave On" and "Peggy Sue"! Johnny felt validated and welcomed, like he was home. He quickly found the best seat available and planted himself in front of it, continuing to stand but not minding it now, listening to the music. (Turn it up, dammit, he thought to himself -- another thirty decibels wouldn't hurt! But it wouldn't do for a member of the press to act like a fan at a rock concert, now would it? Little did he know. . .)

Johnny's area of the press section was soon full to overflowing. He looked around and saw Germans on his right, Frenchmen in front of him, and hippies behind. Far out! An excited trio of Brits walked past. A Japanese video crew stood alertly nearby. Buddy Holly gave way to surf music and the Stray Cats. This was great, he thought! And so it began: the fake Jobs came out, then the real one, and the keynote was rolling.

When Steve Jobs got into his speech and started nailing each point, Johnny automatically clapped at first, then realized that most of the journalists were silent. Of course! But why should he pretend to be objective now, he wondered? As it turned out, he wasn't so different from all the rest -- before too long, proscribed behavior was breaking out all around him!

Each time applause shook the hall, more and more reporters joined in. By the time Jobs got to the all-important iBook introduction, he had them eating out of his hand. They whooped! They hollered! The press section and everyone in the hall clapped themselves silly at every iBook feature. Johnny looked at the Apple slaves with iBooks strapped to their wrists and understood. It was gorgeous. It was fast. It was wireless! (oh thank you thank you) By the time the speech ended, he wanted one too!

Out on the show floor, Johnny dove into the mosh pit where the iBook posters were stacked. (Oof, shove, "excuse me," SNATCH) Success!! Of course, now he had to walk around all day carrying a leather satchel and a shopping bag full of posters and free magazines. But who cared? He had the keynote experience, his iBook posters, and Macworld! And that wasn't all.

Over the next day and a half, he had the wildly unusual experience of meeting person after person who had read his work and knew who he was! What a world. What a show. What an Internet! Johnny realized he had ridden his PowerMac to a very different place. He was shaking hands with scientists, hallelujah. Buddy Holly, iBooks, and brains! Almost better than sex and food, he thought. But of course, there was always a time and place for everything. . .

Perhaps she was outside, hanging up clothes. Johnny walked to the back door and put his nose to the screen, peering out at the white sky and greenish-brown grass. It might already be too late in the day for the chores he'd penciled in, he thought.

He walked outside and surveyed the scene: 22 straight days of 90 degrees or more on top of a 20" rainfall deficit for the past 12 months had worked their evil magic on what had once been a perfect Maryland back yard. Instead of a cool, spongy, dark green carpet of grass, there was a stubbly , prickly scattering of semi-green stems and dried-up leaves. The ground itself was hard and cracked. And the two English walnut trees had been completely taken over by drought-crazed squirrels!

He assumed they had come up from the woods to drink from the birdbaths and chow down on green walnuts. They had already decimated this year's crop, at any rate. Ugly sharp bits and chunks of walnut shells rained down constantly from above. Walking barefoot was out of the question, and the moist pieces of husk could stain your clothes. Johnny walked out farther towards the back, into an island of sunlight. . .whoa! Some decisions are easy, he realized: indoor work it was!

That was the smart thing to do. It was also what he wanted to do. He would spend the day in the cool dim cave of the living room, under the ceiling fan, writing on his PowerBook. The 540c still worked fine, and going portable continued to hold a strong fascination for him. Why then had he just ordered an tangerine iBook with all the trimmings?

Now that he was "out there," Johnny had comradely access to top-drawer advice. And what had he heard? That refurbished 233MHz WallStreets could be had for the same price ($1,599), and that so-and-so or maybe even Apple would be offering an AirPort card for them any day now. Ooh, and the big black powerhouses also had all those bays and ports to play with. Didn't he want one of those instead?

Well, sure, sort of, was Johnny's immediate reaction. There was the question of value to consider. He could take that WallStreet and hook up his "legacy" Zip drive, Color QuickCam, graphics tablet, printer, scanner, and things he hadn't bought yet but probably would. He could use exactly none of those peripherals with the iBook, at least not without a bagful of adapters.

But it was the wireless networking that made him goofy! And he wanted the best available. The iBook had been designed for wireless from the ground up. There were even built-in antennas! The antennas on the WallStreets would be, uh, where? Not needed? Oh, the thing would work all right, maybe even fabulously, but still. Another reason he wanted an iBook was that they supposedly didn't heat up the way a lot of laptops did. In the summer jungle climate prevailing on the Eastern Shore, that was muy importante. Out West he might appreciate a lap-warmer, but not here!

Portability, though, that was the thing. The iBook was more portable than the WallStreet: it was tougher, used less power, and had seamless wireless networking. Freedom! What he really wanted was freedom! He wanted to be able to grab the iBook, hop in the truck, and go anywhere. He couldn't go online with it out in the boonies -- yet! But some clever person would take care of that down the road. He just knew it.

Yes, that was it, the tangerine iBook. The smart thing to do was what he wanted to do. (Buddy Holly, iBooks, and brains. . .)

Damn, that was one beautiful computer! he mused, looking at the glossy handout from Macworld. And the handle was a masterstroke: when you carried the iBook, people would see it! Those poor bastards whining about the way it looked were missing the point. Johnny understood, though, because it had happened to him, and it was going to happen to a lot more folks before the year was out:

RELOAD!!!

September, you say? That long??

John H. Farr also edits the Apple Computer News for Applelinks.com and invites your comments. The Farr Site Forum has been folded into the main Applelinks Readers Forum so that more people can see what's going on here, and the Archives are always available for locating past columns.

To be notified whenever the column is updated, just send a message titled "Subscribe FSN" to this address.

P.S. Don't worry! Johnny eventually found his wife. . .and the first thing she said was, "Did you order that iBook yet?"

January 08, 2009