| Suddenly I have the sensation of surfing. How energetic! Pixels of spray gently splash on my face, a sweet vibration rings in my ears. JJ tells me to duck and prepare to enter the tube. If I can just stay on my mouse! I do and we arrive. The place is the worldwide bank-chit-chat page [www.comm.globspeak], an exclusive club where you need half a million airmiles to get invited. JJ says he spends most of his day browsing through it, and I ask whether this is why he hasn't left the office for two weeks and seems to be completely out of touch with the staff. His hand is shaking from a repetitive-clicking disorder. Never mind that he says, as his hand reverts to the more familiar twanging of his braces. He types in the words GUARANTEED BONUS, and pulls out all the e-mail conversations on the subject. He puts his sunglasses on. "We're going in," says JJ as he waxes his mouse and the first message begins to flash. All I can do is watch and read, mesmerized by the unlimited opportunities of this sort of fax-machine that travels in cyberspace. |