Yesterday I met a ghost. I was so shocked I could barely type. Tears ran down my face. He seemed equally moved, though you can't always tell from a computer screen.
Funny, really. I wouldn't have guessed my reaction would be so strong. Maybe it's because it was so unexpected, and so poignant to see someone I'd thought might be dead, or at least no longer accessible. That's how these online friendships can be. Very intense, but au fond very ephemeral. It's possible to spend all your spare time talking to a person and feel like you know them in a way no one else does, and then find out that person is actually ... oh, the opposite gender, or older, or much more conservative than you thought. And chat room friendships, or MOOs in my case, are especially fraught with a sense of willful suspension of belief, even more so than real life friendships. Because you can't see the other person. You have to believe what they tell you is true, down to hair color and gender and age, things you'd normally be able to identify for yourself. Even if you're a cynic about who they really are you find yourself buying the package, at least until you find out differently.
It's a seductive notion, reinventing yourself. People do it all the time, of course, but it's amazingly easy to fudge the truth without trying when you're inhabiting a character online. I've learned how to play with reality by presenting part of the truth in my descriptions. It was hard to find the right combination of truth and amusing fiction at first. I had a strong dislike of concealment until I ran into some yucky guys hitting on all the females. They made me feel besmirched with their nasty suggestions and inability to take no for an answer. I decided I'd call myself Felix, a male name, instead of my real life (and obviously female) name. It was an effective way to divert attention. I'm pretty good at smiting fools now, but I was once quite timid about confronting anyone with their unacceptable behavior. How things have changed in three years.
For it was three years ago this very month I wandered onto my first MOO. I'd only had my email account for a couple of months, and I didn't really know how to use my computer. I'd been dabbling on Usenet, mostly reading and contributing to rec.arts.tv.mst3k (devoted to Mystery Science Theater 3000). I wasn't too sure about meeting people online, but I loved the wacky, nutty funsters who wrote in to ratm. A couple of them wrote to me outside of Usenet, and I was thrilled. We exchanged coveted copies of various episodes, and one of the fellows suggested I come to a MOO. He said I'd be able to talk to a lot of the ratmers live, which sounded okay to me. I agreed to show up, once I worked out what "telnet" was, and attend his MOO wedding.
It was quite an event. I reckon there's only three or four things I can definitely identify as life-changing experiences and that was one of them. I followed the directions, met some other newbies logging in, and promptly got stuck in a room for 20 minutes with no idea how to get out. Eventually, some MOO-savvy person passed through and showed us how to join the wedding party. When I finally found the right place 36 people were talking at once. Everyone was very funny, very bright, and very quick. It was a lot like attempting to drive an unfamiliar car at very high speeds in the dark while being chased by the police and trying to drink a soda. It was astonishing, and confusing, and more than a little unnerving, and I loved it immediately.
I got myself a character at the MOO which was called the Digiverse. It was physically based on a computer at Harvard University managed by a computer geek yclept Digitas, thus the name. It was set up like an alternative Harvard with a huge segment dedicated to MST3K fans. A senior named fRiNgE was the wizard, and he ran the MOO with an iron fist for no reason that I could see apart from enjoying a sense of power. It seemed to take forever at the time, but I know now it was really only a matter of days before I was at home with the text-based reality of MOO. It was a lot like learning a new language, and I've always been good at languages. I spent hours talking to new friends like EvilJen and Jasooon, the bride and groom of the wedding, Sherman, soon to be made junior wizard, FarSide, bookworm, Surrealist, Hikeeba, Eightball, Spatch, Mitchell, and a really sweet, funny guy named Derceto. It was a profound pleasure to talk to people with whom I shared a strong common interest and a weird sense of humor. Living as I was in Nashville, isolated and homesick, it was a godsend. I was a serious addict. It interfered with my schoolwork, my job, and my homelife, but I had a ball. The addictive phase lasted about a year, all told, but it was those first two or three months that were particularly heady and intense. It was like any love affair, really.
I guess you never forget your first love. The Digiverse fell by the wayside, abandoned by its owners. Our band of merry MOOers wandered from site to site in search of a new home, never finding the perfect spot but making new friends along the way. Mitchell and I decided to create our own MOO and put it on her dad's machine at home, becoming the first and only all-female wizard team online as far as we know. We lost touch with more than a few of the Digiverse gang, through attrition and lack of net.access and the usual real life distractions, but those of us who made it onto ElderMOO arrived with our friendships more or less intact. I still feel very close to most of the above mentioned people which, given the ephemeral nature of online contacts, seems to me near miraculous. I missed a few people who didn't stick around, though, Derceto in particular. He was such a cool guy, though depressed and unhappy with the limitations of his life. We'd stay up really late every night talking, all through April and May of 1995. We just seemed to click. I'd flirt with him, making risque comments, which he tossed back with aplomb. It was rather innocent, and lots of fun. Then one night we talked about our ages.
He was 13.
I'd never have guessed. He seemed so incredibly sophisticated, and at ease in every situation. He wasn't, not really, but in cyberspace text is god. If you're a good writer, a clever, quick manipulator of words, you can swim with the sharks and never once let on you're a minnow. Derceto was amazing at 13. And then he disappeared, lost in the diaspora, never to be seen or heard from again. Once in while I wondered what happened to him. I thought it was possible, given his incompatibility with his peer group and family, and a sort of undertone of despair in his life, that he'd commit suicide. It was kind of hard just not knowing. But, you know, life goes on and I was busy. And then last night he showed up on a MOO that I hang out on.
There was shock, and disbelief, and lots of catching up. He didn't seem nearly as blown away as I was, at first, but as we talked his sense of meeting the ghosts of our mutual past started to overwhelm him. Just hearing -- reading -- the names of old friends was eerie for him, let alone finding out what had happened to everyone in three years. And the thing that surprised him most of all was how much we had all liked him. He hadn't known. He thought we were just putting up with him. It was quite the touching reunion. We bored everyone stiff who watched the whole interaction. I didn't care. It was great to wallow in those memories, and I'm really glad to see him again.
Welcome home, Derceto.
