There was a certain smoothness to the whole thing, and since it's now all resolved, there's no harm in recounting the articles of faith we placed in the textfiles. On the one hand, there was endless banter. We all recognized the value in this worthless excercise, but fought incessantly over whose banter was best, what each sort of banter led from, led to. Perhaps H.G. Wells forced this point home to us. We were engaged in a struggle against horrible, evil forces, but we were, after all, individuals. The details of our lives were of utmost importance. On the other hand, our endless faith in our abilities led to horrible seclusion and the creation of Mendelbaumian secret codes and rules for transporting information. We became, thus, masters of our own domains as well as of one another's. The main story in the assemblance of the files was thus one of smoothness punctuated by the most intense turbulence. Above all, I think we were human.
It's no secret that the big picture we came up with for the new age was a two-fold system, which today is still in its infancy. The idea-sharing system was to be bolstered by the networking system. We didn't know this, at first, of course. We just knew that materials were bound to our needs to an almost Existential degree. I doubt most people remember the level of superstition that existed before the files made their debut. I certainly do. The late seventies still make their appearance in my nightmares. People blended their fears with their realities and followed any idea that seemed to promise Negro hookers at the end. "This is not a pipe" was just another way. The text files thus emerged out of a world at the end of its line. Yes, we were human, but we were also heroes.
There, I said it. We were heroes. Pinning our hopes on nothing but the straight edges and rounded corners of letters, we achieved a humility unbeknownst before our time. But, I'll say it again, we were heroic.
- John Touzios