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Information Communication Supply Vol.1 Issue 3
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R | | | | | | | \______ \ | #3
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E | Information | Communication | Supply |
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Information Communication Supply 03/29/93 Vol.1:Issue.3
Email To: ORG_ZINE@WSC.COLORADO.EDU
E D I T O R S: Local Alias: Email: ICS Positions:
Daniel Frederick -Doppelalias STU445666405 Corrections, Role Playing
Russell Hutchison -BurnouT STU524636420 Subscriptions, Editor
Benjamin Price -Beelzebub/B'bub STU406889075 Submissions, Final Opinion,
Letters Section
Luke Miller -Aminohead/DUB STU521532642 Subscriptions, Role Playing
Donald Sanders -Zorro ORG_ZINE Critical Editor, Story
Section Editor
George Sibley -MACFAC FAC_SIBLEY Faculty Supervisor
Matthew Thyer -O O T L O STU523086351 Chief Editor
Deva Winblood -Metal Master ADP_DEVA Technical Director,WorldNet
Tour Guide, Tales of The
Unknown
_____________________________________________________________________________
/ \
| ICS is an Electrozine distributed by students of Western State |
| College in Gunnison, Colorado. We are here to gather information about |
| topics that are important to us all as human beings. If you would like |
| to send in a submission please type it into an ASCII format and mail it |
| to us. We operate on the assumption that if you mail us something you |
| want it to be published. We will do our best to make sure it is |
| distributed and will always inform you when or if it is used. |
| See the end of this issue for submission information. |
\_____________________________________________________________________________/
REDISTRIBUTION: If any part of this issue is copied or used elsewhere
you must give credit to the author and indicate that the information
came from ICS Electrozine ORG_ZINE@WSC.COLORADO.EDU.
BACK ISSUES: Back issues can be FTPed from UGLYMOUSE.CSS.ITD.UMICH.EDU
in the directory /pub/Zines/ICS. (check /pub/Politics/ICS also)
DISCLAIMER: The views represented herein do not necessarily represent the
views of the editors of ICS. contributors to ICS assume all
responsibilities for ensuring that articles/submissions are not violating
copyright laws and protections.
|\__________________________________________________/|
| \ / |
| \ T A B L E O F C O N T E N T S / |
| / \ |
| /________________________________________________\ |
|/ \|
| Included in the table of contents you will see some|
| generic symbols to help you in making your |
| decisions on whether an article is something that |
| may use ideas, and/or language that could be |
| offensive to some. S = Sexual Content |
| AL = Adult Language V = Violence O = Opinions |
|____________________________________________________|
I. FIRST OPINION - By Matthew Thyer. This concerns a look into Bulletin
Board Systems and their antagonists. (O)
II. A SUBTLE LITTLE WAR: WHO WILL MAKE THE PICTURES - By George Sibley.
A look at the mediums used for various publications that shape our
viewpoints.
III. WORLDNET TOUR GUIDE: Using ARCHIE - By Deva Winblood. Instructions
to guide people in using the ARCHIE programs. These programs help one
search many sites very rapidly.
IV. HOW TO FINGER AND CREATE A PLAN FOR YOUR VAX ACCOUNT - By Daniel
Frederick. This article explains how to create a message for people
on a VAX/VMS machine.
V. SEVERAL POEMS - By Heather Elliott. On request Heather has submitted
four more poems for this issue of ICS.
VI. TALE OF THE UNKNOWN: SO TALL LADY IN WHITE - By Deva Winblood. Yet
another strange tale of the unknown. All based on non-fiction.
VII. THE MARTIANS ARE COMING - By Russell Hutchison. This is part one of
a fictional story. The second part will appear in ICS issue #4.
VIII. BACK THEN - By Fred Skanes. This is a fictional story of nachos and
life.
IX. STEVE JACKSON GAMES WINS AGAINST SECRET SERVICE - By Daniel Frederick.
This article talks about the recent win by SJG against the secret service.
X. TWO POEMS - By Gayle L. Allenback ** A N D ** ICS BLURBS!
Gayle Allenback has submitted two poems for your reading enjoyment. Also
ICS BLURBS #1 which consists of public service announcements and global
interest advertisements.
XI. LETTERS TO ICS - Edited by Benjamin Price.
XII. FINAL OPINION - By Benjamin Price. More inspiring thoughts from
B'bub. We'll see just who Matt Thyer's antagonist really is. (O)
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
I ____________________________________________
I \ F I R S T O P I N I O N /
I > By Matthew Thyer <
I /__________________________________________\
It is amazing how one person can so quickly ruin a piece of
quality work. A local BBS that I frequent is intended for constructive
discussion of contemporary subject matter; however, one subscriber
has taken it upon himself to undermine the purpose of this conference site.
The current state of affairs has become reminicent of a crusade where
nobody fights. Most of the regular contributors have vanished while
only a few of the hardier type have remained to endure the constant
tirade of meaningless junk that pours from the keyboard of our nameless
molester.
The paralyzing blow that this individual has released on those of us
who remain turns us into incapable, reactive, cyber-morons.
All attempts to remove this person's access to the BBS have failed
since he has not really broken any rules. I find myself sliding up
to the person sitting at the next work station asking, "Have you read
my latest post about Him?" What once was a healthy intellectual past-time
has become something of a competitive obsession. I sit in my apartment
at night and mull over tactical advances I might issue the next
day, but what I as well as my fellow patriots of the Public Forum
have accomplished in the end is equal to the sum of our nameless
assailant's contributions. We have become essentially as destructive
to the ultimate goal of the BBS as our enemy.
This phenomenon seems to occur on just about every BBS I can dig
up, and I am convinced that some very rude person is following me around
changing his address and alias every time someone has something meaningful
to relay. My personal experience seems to be becoming a rule rather than
a solitary occurrence. "Why?" I ask myself while raising my hands to the
cyber-sky in a quasi-sarcastic manner, hoping for god-like intervention.
The point of most BBSes and Public-Dial-Up sites, in my humble opinion,
is to facilitate constructive and insightful discussion on an infinite
variety of subjects -- why does the common "flame" and its brothers even
exist? Our subculture seems to be preoccupied with the art of bickering.
Stop! Our world, our lives don't need this nonsense.
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
II
II
II ___________________________________________________
II / \
| A SUBTLE LITTLE WAR: WHO WILL MAKE THE PICTURES? |
| |
| George Sibley, Electrozine Advisor/Cheerleader |
\___________________________________________________/
Due to some difficulties experienced in the 'zine's "subscription
drive," as well as other questions that have been raised concerning
institutional liability, appropriateness of this and that, and other
such issues, I have been doing some research into the "law of the
cyberland."
That I have not found much probably comes as no surprise to many of
our readers. The November/December '92 issue of TECHNOLOGY REVIEW had
a good essay on the evolution of standards for electronic publishing
("Of Bytes and Rights," by Herb Brody); according to the author,
everything from network standards to Constitutional Amendments has been
proposed, but nothing has been universally adopted; and the usual
continuum of positions ranging from ultimate control to ultimate
liberty is taking shape. In this regard, we would appreciate a copy
of any network codes of ethics, proposed electronic legislation, or
other efforts to push the law into these new realms; and we would also
encourage the submission to this 'zine of essays suggesting what kind
and degree of legal controls should be overlaid on the medium.
This research, however, gave rise to larger thoughts that really need
to be addressed before proposing legislation, and these thoughts have
to do with what I think of as the "basic analogy" of "paperless
publishing" in general and this 'zine in particular. More simply:
what are we "like"? Or what are we trying to create? Brody's essay
suggests a lot of possibilities. From the "global bulletin board," he
moves on to the electronic neighborhood, the electronic village, the
"electronic watering hole," the library, the bookstore, as possible
metaphors for "what we are like."
One of the most interesting observations I've encountered on the "lay
of the land" in cyberspace, however, was in the second issue of the
Electrozine: Benjamin Price's "Final Opinion." Price says, "A
computer screen and a connection to the world become the greatest
equalizing force I have ever known. Once you sit down and enter
Cyberspace, there are no longer any judgments. There is no race, no
creed, no gender. . . . You are defined simply by how much you know
and how you choose to use that knowledge."
A skeptic might point out that a "literacy requirement" makes "some
animals more equal than others" in Cyberspace--but in a way, that is
one of the things that I like most about the medium. The need to put
everything in text files makes electronic publishing--at this point,
at least--the most totally literate medium we have: no pictures, no
infographics, not even any italics--none of the things paper publishers
have come up with to make the printed word more palatable to a larger
(and increasingly less literate) audience.
When I asked a class of "Sci/Tech in Culture" students to evaluate
the Electrozine concept, most of the students saw this lack of graphics
as a major strike against the idea, and stopped there.
One student, however, thought that through such media "we might
develop our writing to the extent that we return to using our
imaginations." While I haven't asked her, I would guess that this
student might have had little or no access to television in her young
years, because what she said reminded me immediately of something my
son had said, years ago at about the age of six, before he was
"captured" by the visual culture (which was not present in our home).
He had gone to a friend's house to watch a televised version of C.S.
Lewis's "The Lion, the Witch, and the Wardrobe"--a book that we had
already read aloud. When he got home, and I asked him how he'd liked
it, he was quiet for a minute, then said, "It's better when you make
your own pictures."
In a new book, TECHNOPOLY, educator and cultural critic Neil Postman
describes a "war for the future of education" currently in process
between a "knowledge monopoly" based on the printed word and the
emerging knowledge monopoly based in visual/interactive media. He
derides the notion that the print-based knowledge monopoly, still in
control of the classroom but on the run everywhere else, can "contain"
the visual media by declaring television to be "okay for some things but
not for others"; this, says Postman, is like the medieval church or
some other institution grounded in the oral tradition telling Gutenberg
that books were okay for stories and essays but not for religious and
inspirational works.
I would be more sanguine about this "war for the future of
education," had I not spent most of the past decade in the classroom
with students who are, in effect, the first generation of "displaced
persons" created by that war: young people primarily educated by the
visual media which have been so uncritically embraced by the culture,
but still "doing time" in the classrooms which are the last holdout of
the old knowledge monopoly. For the most part, these are people
without imagination: so overloaded with images created by others
(expertly, with virtually unlimited resources) that they have no room
for--or respect for--their own incipient halting efforts.
The nature and outcome of this war is made even more disturbing when
one reads Jerry Mander's new book, IN THE ABSENCE OF THE SACRED, in
which he points out that "about 75% of commercial network television
time is paid for by the 100 largest corporations in the country," which
"leads to certain kinds of information dominating the airwaves." The
same figures probably apply to the visually-oriented popular magazines
that most of my students love and consider to be a literate medium.
All of these advertisers, says Mander, essentially have the same
message: "Whether you buy this commodity or that one, satisfaction in
life comes from commodities." The spiritual and imaginative writers
on the human experience have never managed to come up with such a
simple and consensual message/massage.
I will close by relating of one of my own skirmishes in this war for
the future of education. Here at Western State College, we have been
trying hard to develop a set of coordinated "core" courses focusing on
the development of both creative and critical thinking skills--in
essence, how to effectively ask "why" about what is, and "why not"
about what is not. Like everyone else in public education, we are
"bootstrapping on a shoestring": broadly defining the investment to
encompass the whole reorientation and diversion of resources including
faculty, development of the program has probably cost $10 million over
the past half decade.
Meanwhile, however, Anheuser-Busch has invested $70 million in
inundating our students (and everyone else) with its "Why ask why?"
campaign--the very antithesis of critical and creative thinking. I've
stopped buying Budweiser as a result--that would be like G.I. Joe
buying German war bonds in 1943. But given the resources the visual
media can muster, compared to what print-based public education can
muster--should I be such a fool as to be optimistic about the outcome?
Only, I guess, so long there are students with enough of a vestigial
imagination to imagine an appropriate environment for its full
development, or students like Ben Price and the rest of this 'zine
staff looking for themselves in front of a screen that stays blank
until they put something of themselves there--in an environment that
requires their receivers to flex their own imaginations enough to "make
the pictures."
No doubt many well meaning technicians are hard at work on making
visual information easily accessible in a text-file format; but I
won't buy into it, and I would encourage others to "think large" about
it. My own emerging "basic analogy" for this medium is more that of
"the great unexplored continent," a place in which I keep meeting
people I already know who, here, are not quite the same old people.
Knowing of course that it probably can't, I nevertheless wish that this
abstract unexplored continent would stay this way: a place for the
word and its pictures, and those humans willing and able to imagine,
to make their own pictures.
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
III
III _____________________________________
III \ /
III \ W o r l d N E T /
\ Tour Guide /
____\_____________#2______________/____
\ Using ARCHIE /
\ By Deva B. Winblood /
/___________________________________\
This issue's WorldNet Tour Guide is on the topic of ARCHIE.
ARCHIE is a program that will search many sites very rapidly and return
information on the location of files you are seeking. It is an incredible
time saver.
ARCHIE sites should be connected to using the TELNET command.
This command is what we use on our VAX/VMS machine here and is common on
most platforms. The command you use may be different; unfortunately
it is not available to BITNET users.
TELNET EXAMPLE:
TELNET <address of computer>
TELNET ARCHIE.ANS.NET
Once connected to a computer hosting an ARCHIE program, you will
be prompted to login. The LOGIN is usually `archie.' There is no
password required. Once connected you can use the ARCHIE program to
help you find files. Four commands will be described in this Tour
Guide. They are all you need to get started.
You the reader should be informed now that the ARCHIE sites
request that your site install a CLIENT program that enables you to use
ARCHIE without TELNETTING to their site. The information on where to
obtain the client software will be displayed on some sites upon connecting.
This software can be obtained using FTP(see ICS Volume 1 Issue 2).
The four commands that will be discussed here are HELP, SET SEARCH,
PROG, and MAIL. These commands should be sufficient to get you started
with ARCHIE.
HELP
The HELP command tells the ARCHIE program to display a list of
commands. These are commands that you can use from ARCHIE. Most of
these commands you will not need. The commands needed to get started are
in this WorldNet Tour Guide article.
The HELP command will enable you to request more help by typing
HELP <topic>.
SET SEARCH <mode>
This allows you to set how detailed a search you wish to use. Some
archie sites are set to search mode SUB and occasionally they are
set to EXACT. The difference is that SUB takes longer and will return
every occurence of the word you are searching for, but EXACT will only
return occurences that are exactly what you typed in. It is very fast.
These modes and others will be discussed in more detail here.
MODE--What it means:
----------------------
SUB This mode sets the ARCHIE program to a case insensitive(does
not matter whether caps is on or off) substring search. It
will set the mode to search for any occurence of that pattern.
SUBCASE This is the same as SUB, however it IS Case sensitive.
EXACT This mode means that it should report any EXACT occurence of
what you type in and nothing more. This is the fastest search
method, but it requires that you know exactly what you are looking
for.
REGEX This is the DEFAULT setting of most ARCHIE sites(ARCHIE.ANS.NET
is defaulted to EXACT mode). This allows searches to be made
for regular expressions. There is a lot of information available
concerning this search mode. To obtain it, just type HELP SET SEARCH
at the ARCHIE prompt. More information can be obtained by typing
HELP PROG REGEX at the ARCHIE prompt.
PROG <expression>
This ARCHIE command tells it to go into the database and search for occurences
of the expression based on whatever the current search mode is set to. It
will keep you informed of progress as it goes. When it is done, it will
display the results to the screen. You can have the results mailed to you
using the MAIL command that is described next.
MAIL <email address>
This tells the ARCHIE program to send the results of the search to the EMAIL
address that you indicate. Large amounts of information will be fragmented
into several pieces of mail.
ARCHIE SITES:
-------------
|SYMBOLIC ADDRESS |NUMERIC ADDRESS | Where |
|=============================|=================|===============|
|ARCHIE.RUTGERS.EDU | 128.6.18.15 |NewJersey, USA|
|ARCHIE.SURA.NET | 128.167.254.179 |Maryland, USA |
|ARCHIE.UNL.EDU | 129.93.1.14 |Nebraska,USA |
|ARCHIE.MCGILL.CA | |Canada |
|ARCHIE.AU | 139.130.4.6 |Australia |
|ARCHIE.FUNET.FI | 128.214.6.100 |Finland |
|ARCHIE.DOC.IC.AC.UK | 146.169.11.3 |London, UK |
|ARCHIE.CS.HUJI.AC.IL | |Israel |
|ARCHIE.WIDE.AD.JP | |Japan |
|ARCHIE.NCU.EDU.TW | 140.115.19.24 |Taiwan |
|ARCHIE.SOGANG.AC.KR | 163.239.1.11 |Seoul, Korea |
|ARCHIE.ANS.NET | |New York, USA |
|===============================================================|
** End of WorldNet Tour Guide #2 **
IV
IV
IV
IV[][][][][][][][][][][][][][][][][][][][][][][][][][][][][][[][][][][][][][]
[] How to finger and to create a plan for your Vax account. []
[] by Daniel Frederick / Doppelalias []
[] []
[] Have you ever FINGERED an account or site? []
\/ There are two ways to finger an account. \/
Why would one want to? If you ever wondered if a friend was on-line
and just wanted to know, without writing a mail message to them, you
could finger their account. One way to do so would be to type FINGER
@SITEADDRESSHERE, an example on how you would do so to WSC:
Finger @WSC.COLORADO.EDU / this would show you everyone who is
currently on the WSC system, and ours also shows personal names,
system status, et cetera. By scanning this list you would be
able to see if that special someone was on-line.
One can check to see if selected individuals
are on. Say you wanted to know if I was logged-on during a
certain part of the day then you would type the
following <Finger stu445666405@wsc.colorado.edu>. This would show
you if I was currently on the system along with my current system
status. You may encounter a person who has created a little
addition to their account. When a person fingers this type of account
they encounter a PLAN file that the user designs. Try the
Electrozine account at <ORG_ZINE@WSC.COLORADO.EDU>.
What is going on when you encounter something like:
stu445666405 204243405 *DCL* .LT4354SRV13/PORT_2
[No Plan]
The stu445666405 is the person or site you fingered.
The 204243405 is the process ID. The *DCL* is what that person is
currently doing. This may say "not logged on." The
".LT435SRV13/PORT_2" is the present local terminal
location. The [No Plan] is stating that this person has no plan.
What is a plan? A Plan is an attached graphic or some text
that you can add to your account that comes up when fingered.
On the VAX/VMS environment you need to do the following
to create a plan file. Enter to your DCL prompt and edit in an
ASCII format. Type edt plan.txt at this point you should be in a
edit buffer. Command files are not necessary -- at this point
what ever you type will show up. So type in your name and email,
then write I READ ICS, YOU SHOULD TOO! Exit and save it.
The protection on your plan.txt should be set so that it is like
this: (W:r) plan.txt; the World should be able to read it.
Try to finger your own account. Also try to finger your
account from a different account (like a friends) to make sure
it works. You now have a plan. make it look neat and descriptive.
/\ /\
[] []
[] Vax: Set prot=(S:rwe,O:rwed,W:r,G) plan.txt / Unix: .plan (Prot?) []
[][][][][][][][][][][][][][][][][][][][][][][][][][][][][][][[][][][][][][][]
[] []
[] by Doppelalias - ICS Tech. Corrections & Role Playing Editor. []
[] E-mail me for more help if needed, or if you know []
[] how to build a plan on the Unix or any other system. []
[] []
[][][][][][][][][][][][][][][][][][][][][][][][][][][][][][][[][][][][][][][]
-------------------------------------------------------------------------------
V _____________________________________
V /\ /\
V | \ S e v e r a l / |
V | \ P o e m s / |
| \_____________________________/ |
| B Y |
| Heather Elliott |
\_____________________________________/
-------------------------------------+------------------------------------------
AURA |RUB
* |*
i felt the cold breeze |turnout
wrap around me |step
yet i retained |transfer
a shell |transfer
of warmth |focus
* |HALT
i can only feel |*
your cool breeze |you were bug-eyed
but i know | hands dropped to the side
that such warmth |*
encases you |saw your cute belly
* | became Buddha
i want to wrap up |*
in the aura |could I feel that warmth
of your warmth | again?
on a cold clear |
night |
-------------------------------------+--------+---------------------------------
FreeFall |AN EVENING WITH _
* |*
You said you'd catch me |mellow
if I fell |comforting
but I couldn't let myself fall |relaxing
* |soft drums beat in the background
Afraid of that sinking feeling |pillows fly
so much resembling |smiles sparkle
utter disappointment |eyes glitter
* |yet, we each have our own drum
Filled with worry |stunts
became a wallflower |games
* |jokes
Saw that I could do the steps |and my drum beats out of sync
said I'd be fine |
if I followed your lead |
* |
I followed with such grace|
I'm falling |
catch me |
----------------------------------------------+---------------------------------
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
VI /\___/\ /\___/\
VI \ *m* /----------------------------\ *m* /
VI \v v/ Tales of The Unknown #3 \v v/
VI \_/ By \_/
\ Deva Winblood /
\ /
\ SO TALL LADY IN WHITE /
\__________________________/
___
(_ _)
(_)he sky was dark and a blanket of moisture was all around. The sound
of divots in the road were droning background sounds to the intoxicated
youths in the back seat of the Pontiac Firebird. The party they had just
come from had supplied three passengers with more than ample alcoholic
beverages. It was times like this that they were thankful for sober
people to drive them home.
The snow had all melted and spring had come and brought the
green back into the trees on the side of the road. The trees could be
seen for a long way on this very straight road. This was not an
unfamiliar road to the driver. Actually this was the road the driver had
to drive every night to get to his house. The driver turned up the
stereo as the quiet music reached a song he particularly enjoyed.
The heavy metal and stuporous state did not stop one of the
passengers from commenting on the mist that was quickly thickening around
the road. Notice they did, and of course some drunken comment was made that
the other passengers felt was amusing.
There were no visible lights of cars in either direction and as
near as the passengers and drivers were could tell it was near midnight.
The absence of other car lights and the mist made this a particularly
dark stretch of road.
Suddenly, not far ahead, the occupants of the car noticed a white
figure on the side of the road with an arm extended and thumb pointing
upwards. The car was closing the gap to the figure fairly rapidly. The
occupants of the car looked on with curiosity which gradually shifted to
fear and concern. This was a lady dressed in white and she appeared to
be leaning outwards into the road at a near 45 degree angle.
The passengers quickly noted that this was not a natural angle
for a human to stand at. The driver turned the wheel and entered the
other lane of the road. As they past the figure they saw it vanish.
The next few years the passengers would relate this tale to anyone
interested in this tale. After all, it wasn't the first report of ghostly
hitchhikers.
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
VII ____________________________
VII / The Martians Are Coming! \
VII | By |
VII | Russell Hutchison |
\____________________________/
Frank climbed to the top of the ladder and stepped onto one wing
of his delta shaped fighter. He began to cross over to the cockpit, the
material of his pilot suit making an annoying, abrasive sound as the legs
rubbed together. Frank clambered into the war machine and tried to think about
anything to keep his mind off the upcoming battle. The canopy began to seal
with a hiss that reminded him of the videos of snakes that he had seen when
he was a boy. Frank wondered if he would ever see a snake in real life.
'Maybe when this war between Earth and the Mars colonies ends
I could go and visit Earth. Of course, since the gravity of Earth is
so much stronger than that of Mars, I'll feel like a weak child,' Frank
thought. 'And I can't afford it, unless Mars wins this war. It's
funny to see how history repeats it's self. America broke away from
Britain because of extreme taxation and political manipulation, yet the
Earth didn't learn from this example and is mishandling the Mars in the
same fashion---'
The voice of his flight leader snapped Frank out of his reflective
mood. "SMITH! Wake up and sound off if you're there."
Frank winced at the flight leaders sarcastic tone. "Sorry, Sir!"
"Better. Now listen up boys and girls, the assault force is
going to be dropping out of lightspeed in forty seconds. Begin warming
up engines, lasers, and particle cannons."
Following instructions, Frank activated all systems. The weapons
display screen showed that both lasers in each wing were ready, also the
particle cannon was charging and the missile pod was loaded with six
separate 'flights' of ten missiles per 'flight.' Frank placed his helmet
on his head, feeling comforted by the sound of the weapon capacitors charging,
but his entire body was coated in sweat that heightened the discomfort of
his flight suit.
Even in training flights, Frank always broke into a cold sweat and life
seemed like an event that was happening to someone else, but that changed
when the action started. Frank was the best combat pilot in the Martian
fleet, and he tried to use this knowledge to calm his nerves as best as
he could. He also reminded himself that surprise had been achieved even
though Earth had known, two hours ago, that the attack was on its way.
The attack became obvious when the missiles launched from Martian
surveilance ships destroyed the defense satellites of Earth and the moon.
Frank ANGEL fighter, and those of 17 other pilots, were riding
aboard a battlecruiser named the "Vengeance". The thick, titanium-shelled
battlecruiser had been mined from the astroid belt, assembled in Earth
orbit and given to Mars to protect it from raids by other inhabited
solar systems. The Vengeance was a massive hulk measuring about half
a mile in length and would weigh over 800,000 tons in atmosphere. Now
this goliath of battle, and 21 other ships, were turning their weapons
on the planet and factories that had built them.
The weapons that would spell Earths defeat had been designed
and redesigned over the past 500 years and were the cutting edge of
technology, deuterium fluoride chemical lasers which created lethal, 15
megawatt beams of infra-red light, invisible to the human eye. Hyper-velocity
missiles that could lock-on to targets 2,000 miles away, reaching them
in 30 seconds and causing devastating damage. Coilguns that fired
500 pound to 2 ton explosive shells down launch tubes that reached lengths
of up to half-a-mile. And particle cannons that fired 20-45 megawatt
streams of neutral particles, destroying the molecular bonds of the
target area and causing almost instant vaporization.
The voice of the flight leader invaded the cockpit of Franks
ANGEL, "O.K., the game plan is to concentrate firepower on the two
battlecruisers first, then the destroyers. Light deceleration will
commence in 5 seconds."
Frank felt a sudden dizzying sensation as the Vengeance dropped
into attack speed. Vibrations, from fighters launching on the upper
flight decks, lightly shook his ANGEL fighter. Then, with the muffled
whirring of gears, the platform elevator that was holding his ANGEL
rose upward to the flight deck. Frank closed his eyes and took several
deep breaths. When the elevator stopped he opened his eyes and stared
calmly at the flight deck doors. Then all sound outside the fighter
stopped when the doors snapped open and the surrounding air rushed out
into the void of space. The only sounds left were those of Franks
breathing and the comlink.
With a sudden kick Frank was pushed heavily back into his
control seat. The delta-shaped ANGEL fighter leapt from the left side of
the Vengeance and followed the bright lights of another ANGEL's drive
engines. Frank eased his fighter above the Vengeance accelerating
over and past huge spheres of the four launching trooplanders, attached
to the Vengeance like massive ticks. Each one of the trooplanders was
approximately 200 feet in diameter and carried 400 Martian marines.
The laser lights from the Heads Up Display, originating from the top of
Franks helmet, quickly highlighted all possible targets, making them
stand out against the star filled backdrop of the battlespace. The
H.U.D. listed the distance to Earth at around 500 miles and the fleet
was closing at almost 200 miles per minute.
All of the larger war-ships had the same basic shape, long
cylinders with protruding weapon pods, sensor arrays, maneuvering
thrusters, and so forth. The only major exceptions being the, 800 foot
long 12,000 ton fighter carriers. The back halves of these ships are huge
delta-shaped wings that are actually fighter launch tubes. Frank could see
many other ANGEL fighters, each easily spotable because of the twin sparks of
light coming from the engines of each fighter. The fighters the Earth
Defense Fleet used were called BATs and looked like a single straight
wing with a reflective plastic composite cockpit in the middle. The
BATs had much lighter weaponry, consisting of one particle cannon and
two missile racks similar to the ANGELs on either side of it's cockpit.
But the BAT fighters have three drive engines each and can out maneuver
the ANGEL fighters.
As Frank accelerated past the bow of the Vengeance, he gained a
complete view of the battlespace. The Martian flag/battleship was
turning its massive 4,000 foot, 1,500,000 ton bulk towards the
earth-orbit space station. It was followed by two frigates and two
heavy cruisers, each massing around 745,000 tons and measuring over 2,300
feet in length, the cruisers being slower but carrying more weapons.
Eighty ANGELs sped ahead of the battleship and its escorts to engage the
enemy fighters while twenty fighters remained behind for fighter defense.
The space station, called "Garden," looked like a titanic mushroom with a two
mile long 'stem' and a three mile diameter 'cap.' Garden was also surrounded
by two, 3,000 foot, 600,000 ton destroyers, a dozen trooplanders, and almost
50 fighters.
Two fighter carriers began to accelerate towards Earth, followed
by four corvettes and the longest ship in the Martian fleet, a
troopcarrier. The 400,000 ton, 1,300 foot corvettes were straining
their engines to try to catch up with the carriers and the 5,000 foot
1,500,000 ton troopcarrier was quickly out-distanced by the other ships.
But this goliath made up for its slowness with its ability to carry
twenty-five trooplanders alone. Together with the thirty-four other
trooplanders from the rest of the fleet and 146 ANGELs this part of the
fleet vectored towards the planet, which had three frigates, about
eighty BAT fighters and 30 trooplanders guarding it.
The rest of the Martian fleet headed for the main Earth Defense
Fleet that was halfway between Garden and Earth. The last fighter
carrier lead the charge followed closely by two corvettes. These, in
turn, were followed by two more frigates and the Vengeance. Lastly were
four older-version battlecruisers. Weighing 850,000 tons and measuring
nearly 4,700 feet, these ships were slower and carried less armor than
the newer battlecruisers like the Vengeance. Together with 106 fighters,
one of which was Frank, this group was to seal the fate of the rest of
the Earth Defense Fleet. The EDF consisted of four destroyers, three
corvettes, nearly seventy fighters, and the primary target for Frank and
the Vengeance, two of the newest heavy cruisers. Measuring at around
2,700 feet and weighing 740,000 tons, these heavy cruisers carried
nearly twice the weapons and armor of the Martian heavy cruisers.
Pushing their fighters to maximum acceleration, the Martian
pilots raced ahead of their fleet and began breaking into pairs. One
fighter in each pair had a hyper-velocity missile from one of the
warships jury-rigged to the bottom of the fighter. A missile as long as
the fighter its self. Franks fighter was one of these missile carriers.
Franks wingman pulled in above and behind him.
"Good mornin' Frank, how's the wife?" the wingman
asked.
"Rosie is just fine, Rick, how are you?"
"Never better...Man, there sure are lots of badguys today. It
looks kind-of vicious out there."
"Hey, just remember, we're not surrounded, we're in a target
rich environment."
"Right. Good luck at the office today, Bawanna."
"You too."
Even as the fighters passed the halfway point to the enemy,
brilliant lights began to flash all over the EDF, caused by the
invisible lasers and particle beams of the Martian warships. Then the
blur of coilgun rounds and the streaks of light from the hyper-velocity
missiles rocketed past, erupting into orange-white explosions whenever
they hit.
Three fourths of the way to the EDF the Martian ANGELs
encountered the Earth fighter defense. (TO BE CONTINUED)
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
VIII
VIII ________________/\
VIII ______________/\/___BACK THEN______\____________
VIII _______________X____BY FRED SKANES____X_____________
Laying the slice of olive and pimento on the nacho shivered up a memory.
These often came when Michael was unprepared, or at least unsuspecting. He
would be involved in a simple task, something routine and everyday, when a
quick flood of remembrance would bolt him back to another time. Back to
himself, back to her. His present thoughts were glazed over. Disoriented,
Michael sat down by the stove. The chair wobbled underneath.
Michael took a long draw on his smoke. He watched the cool blue smoke
wither in the air. His gaze drifted over to the pan of nachos. He noticed
that only half of the chips were streaked with the red and yellow pieces of
hot banana peppers. She never liked them. Old habits die hard. Michael
chuckled silently. The pepperless side was smothered in Cheddar and Jack.
That's all she liked. He thought, she isn't here really, but she is.
Nearly a year had passed. Michael pushed ahead, trying to start fresh. He
would seek comfort from his friends but that was sporadic at best. They had
their own lives and now he was the odd man out. They were all `coupled off'.
On occasion they would all sit around and relate their stories about the
everyday things that made up their lives -- dirty diapers, work, rows and
booze. A diverse hodgepodge of matter of fact discussions. One day, tired
of Michael's usual referrals, his friends, with exasperated tones, echoed
each other.
-- Mike it's been a long time --
-- Get on with your life --
-- Mike, for jesus sake, let it go will ya --
Whether they were talking about food, money, sex or the problems of the
planet, Michael always pluralized his viewpoint.
-- Yeah, _____ and I never liked that much --
-- No, we thought that was unnecessary --
-- The Continental was our favorite --
Often Michael thought that their remarks were selfish and insensitive. He
was getting on with his life but in his own way, not theirs. He sprinkled
some red pepper on the nachos.
_______________________________________________________________________________
In the car his frozen toes made the day constant. It was a cold winter thus
far. As they moved along the brackish road, the hardened wheel well slush
continuously rubbed the tires. They pulled into a flower shop to collect a
friend.
Stirring from a daydream, ignoring the frosty chat, Michael begrudgingly
squeezed from the back seat. As he entered the earthy warmth of the shop
his thoughts quickly moved to memory. The last time in this place was with
her. Ferns, that was their goal on a Sunday.
Trying to ride the crest of this emotional wave Michael clung to his
friends. He followed them around the store. He somehow felt that by keeping
close to them he would be secured from his past. Companionable shelter in
a tormenting emotional storm? Louisiana Hot Sauce dribbles over the pepper
and cheese.
_______________________________________________________________________________
Thinking back, a bit brave for the task, Michael often felt that the `break
up' period was not really a breaking up of anything. Easily categorized, he
thought, to neatly file away the pain and confusion. A quick way out for some.
She left, he stayed. Michael lived in the same place. He dealt with sleeping
in `their bed', alone. Rolling over, and over to the other edge.
He picked up her mail, answered her calls, cleared away her things. He
wasn't `breaking up' anything. Yet. His contacts with her were still around
him, a part of his daily life.
The more someone tried to figure out why someone was leaving them, the more
confusing it all seemed. When Michael focused on her departure, the brief
note that summarized a relationship, he conjured up a smattering of
theories as to why?
Michael butted the smoke in the popcan ashtray. He thought of the letters.
Jesus, how many did he write? It all happened so fast. He remembered trying
to balance the speed of her departure with introspection. He penned body
and soul in at least fifteen letters in the first three weeks!
Each letter attempting to explain in some way the chaos of thought and
emotion. Each one a new stab at trying to let her know how he felt. Each
time, Michael was never sure of the end result but they went in the post
just the same. Michael thought that somehow through all the fragments she
could see how strong his love was for her.
No matter what flowed into each letter Michael never crumpled one for the
trash can. He mailed them all thinking that this diligence and honesty
would strengthen his position. He sent her all of his feelings whatever
they were at the time of writing. These letters became hurried glimpses of
truth. The pre-heating light went out. Michael slid the Nachos into the hot
oven.
_____________________________________________________________________________
His beard is full now except for two vee shaped spots hanging off his lower
lip. All in all a shaggy reminder of her. She hated the coarse rub of his
face. Growing the beard somehow signalled a change. He checked to make sure
the nachos were not burning.
______________________________________________________________________________
They both lived in the same neighbourhood now. Their paths never crossed. A
chance encounter seemed likely but never materialized. Michael could
somehow relate this to their separate lives but he still found it funny
that in such a small community there never was a run in of any sort. Their
crowd watered at the same hole and yet on many anxious occasions as he
pulled open the local bar door, she was never there. It was as if she somehow
knew the nights that Michael would decide to spend those last few UI dollars
out and about.
Her friends would be there many nights. They were `her' friends now; before
they had been mutual friends, but owing up to past alliances from before they
became a `couple', friends now camped with old allegiance.
One day while clearing the cobwebs with coffee at a new cafe, Michael
sighted her across the street. She was attending a community college nearby.
An anxious moment nearly knocked the coffee and cream mugs off of the
uneven table as Michael crazily thought of scrambling to the door and
shouting out her name. Gathering himself he sat back down to agonize once
more.
From that day on, the cafe at the top of the hill became a symbol of
Michael's torturous days. In the days of unemployment, time leads to many
thoughts. On many occasions, even though the relationship had been long
snuffed, Michael would daydream himself to the door of the cafe.
It became a focal point, almost a refuge of sorts.
Confused, he often left without even looking in through the window. Love
and anger mixed together, fueling moments of panic and indecision. The
next hour or so left him emotionally paralyzed. His concentration became a
struggle. Any conversation with friends that he would bump into would wane;
Michael would curtly drift away.
Finally, one day, Michael and a friend, Jamie, decided to go for coffee. It
was no surprise to Michael when he suggested the cafe at the top of the
hill. As they entered the smokey lunch time crowd and situated a table,
Michael's stomach tied itself tightly. There she sat. With Jamie in the
lead, feeling blind and crippled, Michael grappled to a corner table.
MIchael felt that he could touch her by simply thinking about it.
Jamie continued the conversation from the car. Michael faintly nodded
concern; income tax and the cost of living could take a back seat for the
moment. The reach of his hearing centred on her table.
Michael picked up his coffee and for a moment the movement disentangled him
from Jamie's words. He tried to quickly snatch her voice, wanting to know
what she has been up to. A moment summarizes months of living, Michael
thought.
There would be no acknowledgment that day. They would both have lunch,
talk to friends, and go on to the afternoon. Such days were random. Michael
went to the cafe sporadically after that first encounter. He thought that
maybe this was a sign of something. A change occurring in his outlook on
the past.
Getting up from the chair, he shrugged off the daydream. The oven had
filled the kitchen with sleepy heat. Michael opened the oven door to check
on the nachos. They were almost ready, the cheese beginning to bubble.
_____________________________________________________________________________
It gave way one day. That day. Funny thing was, Michael had thought of this
exact moment. He conjured up daydreams while on the bus of such symbolic
events. He took it as a sign to let go. Finally.
Michael so often imagined this day. He felt glad that the earthy colored
`weavy', as she called it, had fallen off unnoticed. It had dangled on
his wrist for a year or thereabout. A constant reminder.
Michael knew that to prepare for this moment would have been a troublesome
gesture. A parting glance back, somehow ceremonialized, would have
undoubtedly yielded substantial flashbacks. A jaunt to the liquor store for
two litres of Bull's Blood would have been in order.
He was glad that it remained. Like the two he angrily cut from his wrist
when she first left, this one would hang around as well. He stuck it in the
fold of the cookbook that lay open on the table. Holding a place of
reference, keeping a memory. Michael pulled the finished nachos from the
oven.
___________________________________________________________________________
IX
IX ___________________________________________________
IX / \
IX / Steve Jackson Games Wins Against Secret Service \
\ Daniel Frederick / Alias: Doppelalias /
\___________________________________________________/
On March 1, 1990 Steve Jackson found out his company was on the list
of places to raid during Operation Sun Devil. The secret service paid
SJ Games a visit. The SS broke into locked file cabinets, ransacked the place,
and left carrying 3 computers, 2 laser printers, and a lot of hard disks
and papers. Later, a posting on the BBS run by SJ Games, used to keep up
communications with role players, related the following:
"So far we have not received a clear explanation of what the secret
service was looking for, what they expected to find, or much of anything
else. We are fairly certain that Steve Jackson Games is not the target
of whatever investigation is being conducted; in any case, we have done
nothing illegal and have nothing whatsoever to hide. However, the
equipment that was seized is apparently considered to be evidence in
whatever they're investigating, so we aren't likely to get it back any
time soon. It could be a month, it could be never."
Later in another game, Steve Jackson said:
"In 1990, Steve Jackson Games was raided by the U.S. Secret Service during
a 'hacker hunt' that went disastrously out of control. We lost several
computers, modems, and other equipment. Worse, we lost the manuscripts to
several uncompleted games, most notably _GURPS Cyberpunk_, which a Secret
Service agent the next day called `a handbook for computer crime.' The
company had to lay off half its staff, and narrowly avoided bankruptcy.
"Eventually we got most of our property back (though some of it was damaged
or destroyed). The Secret Service admitted that we'd never been a target of
their investigation. We have a lawsuit pending against the officials and
agencies responsible."
One reason the secret service raided SJ Games is because of one of the
staff writers, known as The Mentor of the LoD (Legion of Doom). The
LoD is a band of hackers, and all hackers are evil in the eye of the
law. The book, `GURPS-Cyberpunk, High-Tech Low-Life Role-Playing,' is
now advertised as "The book that was seized by the secret service".
If you are interested, SJ Games operates a BBS with discussion areas
for several games, including GURPS. Its up 24 hours a day at 521-447-4449,
at 300, 1200, or 2400 baud.
Now with the help of the EFFector 'zine, SJ Games has won its
law suit.
Date: Wed, 17 Mar 93 00:33:21 -0600
From: (Steve Jackson)
To: ORG_ZINE@WSC.COLORADO.EDU
Subject: Re: Question.
Yep, we won. By all means, print info - that's why we sent out the
press release! Thanks for the interest. Best of luck to you; electrozines
are a wave of the future.
-------------Start of Message------------
From: Steve Jackson
Date: Sun, 14 Mar 1993 21:24:46 GMT
We won.
Pete Kennedy, our attorney at George, Donaldson & Ford, called me
with the news about 3:30 today. Apparently the decision came in late
Friday while Pete was at the CFP. The judge ruled for us on both the PPA
and ECPA, though he says that taking the computer out the door was not an
"interception." (I have not read the decision yet, so no quotes here.)
He awarded damages of $1,000 per plaintiff under the ECPA. Under the PPA,
he awarded SJ Games $42,259 for lost profits in 1990, and out of pocket
costs of $8,781. Our attorneys are also entitled to submit a request for
their costs. No word on appeal yet.
Look for a more complete and coherent account after we all read
the decision. Please copy this announcement to all electronic and
other media. Thanks for your support through all this!
------- End of forwarded message ---------
End/Daniel Frederick/Alias: Doppelalias
------------------------------------------------------------------------------
X ___________________________
X | | ++ I.
X / T W O P O E M S \ ++ C.
X \ By Gayle L. Allenback / ++++++++ S.
\_________________________/ ++ BLURBS
++
=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=+----------+---------+---------
The Map | |ICS BLURB|
. | +---------+
Planning my route to paradise, |If your interested in a Zine
I'm aware of the stack of books on the table.|that describes itself as
Reading them would make me blind, |"Being the excremeditation of
So I travel on with my sight, |a hyperactive armadillo's
Getting worn down by gravel roads. |activities, and other stuff.."
. |
by Gayle L. Allenback |Send to:
|USnail:
=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=+Armadillo Culture
Sitting Alone on a Moonlit Night |2857 Foxmill Rd.
. |Herndon, VA. 22071
The moonglow silvers a snake in the water, |or EMAIL:
>C8o{. a mesmerizing fortune uponH7 |sokay@cyclone.mitre.org
=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=+------------------------------
[[[[[[ I C S B L U R B ]]]]]] | RPG CONVENTION ANNOUNCEMENT
"Simulation & Gaming" Zine has issued a call for | -^-^-^-^-^-^-^-^-^-^-^-^-^-
papers. "Simulation & Gaming: An International | Allied Gaming Interests, Inc.
Journal of Theory, Design, and Research" (Sage | presents
Publications) is the world's foremost journal | D - C U B E D 1993
devoted to academic and applied issues in the |
fast expanding fields of simulation, computerized| The Southeast's largest
simulation, gaming, modeling, play, role-play and| "Gamer's Only" convention
active, experiential learning and related |
methodologies in education, training and |WHEN: June 5-6, 1993
research. The broad scope of interdisciplinary |WHERE: Pensacola Civic Center
nature of "Simulation & Gaming" is demonstrated | Pensacola, Florida
by the variety of its readers and contributors, |HOW MUCH: $10 per day
as well as its Editorial Board members, such as | $15 for both days
sociologists, political scientists, economists, |HOTELS: Seville Inn
psychologists and educators, as well as experts | (1-800-277-7375) Ask for
in environmental issues, international studies, | group rate #2910.
management and business, policy and planning, | Days Inn
decision making and conflict resolution, | (1-800-325-2525, ask for
cognition, learning theory, communication, | D-CUBED special)
language, learning, media, educational |
technologies and computing. Manuscripts are | Both only $39 per night
welcome at any time. Before submitting a |
manuscript, potential authors should write for a |FOR MORE INFORMATION:
copy of the Guide for Authors, enclosing a self- |Send email to
addressed, sticky label and $2 in stamps(in the |UWFGAMER@UWF.CC.UWF.EDU
USA only). Write to David Crookall, Editor S&G |TVERITY@CONCH.SENOD.UWF.EDU
Morgan Hall. BOX 870244, U of AL, Tuscaloosa, |UWFGAMER@UWF.BITNET
AL 35487, USA. TO SUBSCRIBE, write to Sage |-----------------------------
Publications, 2455 Teller Road, Newbury Park, CA | Well that is the end of
91320,USA; 6 Bonhill Street, London EC2A 4PU, UK.| ICS Issue #3 Blurbs.
=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=+=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
XI ___/\____/\_/\____/\___
XI / L E T T E R S T O \
XI \ I. C. S. /
XI \_____/\_______/\_____/
Secrest Elementary School6875 W. 64th Avenue
Arvada, CO 80003USA
Mar.12, 1993
Dear Ladies and Gentlemen:
For those who have missed previous notices about "Project: Indiana Jones and the
Power of the Internet" I would like to take a minute or two to update you.
My name is Sam F. Radovich, 6th grade teacher here at Secrest. I've been
teaching 19 years in Jefferson County, the largest school district in the State
of Colorado. I've been at Secrest for 5 years.
I'm not a computer scientist or programmer, just a creative, innovative
classroom educator who is trying to implement the use of technology to enhance
and enrich basic education.
This all started several years ago when I wrote a "Long Distance Learning
Proposal" that was rejected. A second one that was networking two of our sister
elementary schools, which was also rejected so the local high school could pay
for a cd-rom program instead of the "Power of the Net."
Thanks to Mr. Ken Harmon, Executive Director of Colorado SuperNet, this dream is
becoming a reality on a daily basis. He adopted us and has provided us with the
access to the Net. This "Educational Partnership" has provided unlimited
learning opportunities.
I'm trying to educate and convince the public of the importance of technology
for accessing the world classroom that we all know exits via the Net. Many feel
this is not important in elementary school. We just had a super demonstration
with "Educating a Superintendent."
We had responses from around Colorado and the Nation, also from Australia, New
Zealand, and yes even from South Africa.
Sincerely
Sam F. Radovich
(aka Dr. Jones or Indy and Associates)
P.S. We've just made it into the South Pole and Iceland, too.
{That's great to hear. Schools should definitely be using the incredible
resources out there as much as they can; it is good to know that there
are teachers out there making an effort to make it happen. -BP}
-=-=-=-=-=-=-
Hello all,
I have to make a confession. I did something appalling and I can't
keep it bottled up anymore.
It really is terrible, but here goes.
When I received the first edition of your electrozine, I was very busy
and didn't really have time to read it, so I ... PRINTED IT! Can you believe
I would do such a thing to an electronic magazine. Whew, I feel so much
better now that I got that off my chest.
Congratulations, it was an excellent edition and I wish you all the
best of luck.
<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>
Keith D. Baker "An honest politician is one who,
Department of Chemistry when bought, stays bought."
University of New Orleans
<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>
{I hope you realize, Keith, that there is no hope for you. What you did
was utterly unforgivable, and it breaks my heart to hear about a true
net citizen reduced to... dare I say it... hard copies. But seriously,
thanks. -BP}
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
XII _______________________________________________
XII / F I N A L O P I N I O N \
XII | B Y |
XII | Benjamin Price |
\_______________________________________________/
Hmmm. The lab is fairly quiet at last. Most of the research paper
strugglers have given up and decided that scholarship isn't worth it. Or
who knows? Maybe they even finished the things. There are still a few
dedicated souls at work, though, and occasionally a staccato keyboard
run announces a DikuMUD in progress. The wall clock tells me there are
forty-five minutes left before I get kicked out.
It is time to get to work.
For the past couple years, I had a project: to make Matthew Thyer's
Internet life a hell. With one last look around, I call up the local
BBS, and begin to post horrible, senseless gibberish. First, I make fun
of Mr. Thyer's grammar; next, his spelling; and lastly and most
enjoyably, I attack him personally. I use great imagination, making sure
I have completely addressed his every shortcoming.
Gosh, what fun.
No, that is not a true story. But is it accurate?
Considerable debate often arises over public access bulletin boards.
It is unfortunate that so often they become war grounds instead of
whatever the programmer originally intended. There are a great number of
very intelligent people using the boards who tend to see posting as a
competition; for them it is a great source of pride to be the one who has the
most skill in programming, language, articulation, or whatever is on the
table for discussion.
The ones who get hurt by this are those who are unable or unwilling
to play aggressively. Bulletin boards become unusable by less willful
information or socialization seekers because of the antagonistic nature
of the board.
I realize this is not a universal problem, but it is certainly a
common one. And an aggressive personality and/or intellect can also be a
great asset to a BBS, guiding and providing. Our minds are everything in
this environment. We have a responsibility to be aware of the power that
gives us.
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
ICS would like to hear from you. We accept flames, comments,
submissions, editorials, corrections, and just about anything else you
wish to send us. For your safety use these guidelines when sending us
anything. We will use things sent to us when we think the would be
appropriate for the goal of the issue coming out. So, if you send us
something that you DO NOT want us to use in the electrozine, then put
the words NOT FOR PUBLICATION in the subject of the mail you send us.
You can protect your material by sending a copy to yourself
through the mail and leaving the envelope unopened.
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
ADVERTISEMENTS & ANNOUNCEMENTS: We will accept either of these as long as they
are of global interest and good quality. This is a non-profit public service
of the ICS Electrozine.
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
BACK ISSUES: Back Issues of ICS can be FTPed from UGLYMOUSE.CSS.ITD.UMICH.EDU
They are in the directory /pub/Zines/ICS. (NOTE: the administrator may have
them in /pub/Politics/ICS still.)
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\ / Western State College
\ / Gunnison, Colorado.
\ / ORG_ZINE@WSC.COLORADO.EDU
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