I tried the other day to remember the last time being “offline” didn’t feel like a big deal. To fully unplug now requires a concerted effort, if it’s even possible. It can be depressing to realize how much our devices have come to feel like necessary extensions of ourselves. I get the urge to check Twitter every ten minutes. I have no idea how to navigate the city I live in without GPS. I haven’t memorized a phone number in over a decade. These are my phone’s jobs. After all, if we have to deal with the annoying parts of being connected to each other all the time we might as well get the benefits as well. Still, it can all start to feel a little dystopian. But let me invite you for a moment to a more peaceful place. A place where your relationship with technology was clearly defined and simple to manage. A place of peace. Let me invite you back to
The Computer Room.
The Computer Room was the height of early-internet simplicity. Before laptops, smartphones, and reliable public wifi, computers were bulky. They were unapologetic in their occupation of space and demanded a domain all their own. We obliged without much thought. Computers were fun. They were a bit of futuristic excess you could fit into the margins of your life, waiting to see if it would play the massive role in your future that everyone seemed to think it would.
The Computer Room gave passage to the future. You entered to log on and when you left, the computer remained. This relationship between you and the computer was an unquestionably stable one. You’d occasionally say to a family member “I’m going to go on the computer” and then you’d vanish for a few hours. The distinct setting and scarcity of computer time made it special.
Each computer room was different. There was no mandatory blueprint besides the need for a computer within a room. The rest was up to the individual family to figure out and thus many iterations of The Computer Room developed.
There was The Open Floor Plan, where the computer would be placed in an otherwise innocuous and shared family space. This served the dual purpose of accessibility and passive parental control over what the computer was used for. Back then the internet’s dangers were unknown. This made the whole enterprise more intimidating for parents so they did whatever they could to keep an eye on what this strange device invited into their home. This computer was free to use but came at the heavy cost of supervision. If you and your friends logged on, you could expect watchful parental eyes and ears to be paying close attention. One uncensored version of an Eminem song and it was all over.
Then there was The Work Computer, a computer that one of your friends’ parents bought thinking that it would revolutionize their ability to do their job only to find out that workplaces wouldn’t know what to do with that sort of technology for at least another 5-10 years. This computer was both immaculate and untouchable. Its’ designation as a machine of productivity made it unsuitable for grubby children’s hands but the lack of attention paid to it made it an easy target. On occasion, if your friend’s parents were out at the store, you could break in and play minesweeper, the only game this computer would ever have.
And who could forget The House Guest, a computer sitting at a desk in an otherwise completely normal bedroom. This seemed representative of an argument between parents. One wanted a computer, one wanted a warmly decorated guest room. Both won, both lost. The computer sat wedged into a corner like an alien being studied by curious scientists who wanted to discern its dark purpose. You and your friends used it to watch music videos on the AT&T homepage, taking turns between laying on the bed and sitting in The One Chair. The bed, as it turns out, was rarely used by guests. There were hardly any visitors at all in fact. All along, the guest was sitting there in the corner. Unblinking and silent, waiting for a future only it could see.
Of course, there was also Father’s Dungeon. A computer room For Dads, By Dads. Father’s Dungeon was a messy but forbidden space. This is a computer you could often see but rarely use. Sometimes this computer room would masquerade as an office. Other times, it would be a secluded corner of a halfway finished basement. Either way, it was a space for The Fellas. Or at least one fella. Father’s Dungeon was filled with books about the Civil War and jewel cases for games that could only be found at Midwestern Micro Centers between 1996 and 2002. These games wanted to be fun but every single one of them made your skin crawl. You were desperate to play them even though doing so gave you an anxiety. Even if you were to revisit them, the tinny soundtracks, unnatural voice acting, and distorted visuals will make you feel like you’re living in a stress dream.
And most ominous of all was Brandon’s Computer. A personal computer was a luxury in itself but a personal in-bedroom computer for an adolescent bordered on the obscene. Brandon’s parents were absolute wildcards, in some cases getting him a computer under the guise of it helping him with school work. In other cases, it was to keep him occupied while they tuned out. No matter the case, having a computer to yourself in those days and at that age meant infinite possibility. To browse on this computer was to fly unfettered by the laws of man or god.
Like so many magical items from fiction, a personal computer had a tendency to amplify the characteristics of the wielder. A noble Brandon would use the computer for good. Playing Freddi Fish and using Encarta to look up different types of whale. This Brandon would grow up inquisitive, with whale knowledge to spare. But a Chaos Brandon wouldn’t be so lucky. Sure, it’s easy to say that Chaos Brandon got way more into porn than Noble Brandon but in the early days of the internet it went much further than that. Chaos Brandon found things on the internet that he will never erase from his mind. Chaos Brandon saw into the morass of the collective online consciousness before it was able to give itself shape and establish rules or boundaries of any kind. Chaos Brandon visited Hell and he remembers what it sounds like. Or maybe he’s fine, some people bounced back from that stuff.
Growing up in this era, the computer felt like an odd friend within your household. It too was new to the world and finding its place. Maybe thats why remembering these spaces brings us comfort. Or maybe it’s because the new computers are small and can hear you scream. Either way, the peaceful days of The Computer Room were bound to come to an end sometime. You grew up and so did the computer. Who are you to say you’re disappointed in it or that it’s perverted its original purpose? Did any of us end up exactly where we’d hoped? Life is long. There’s still time for change. Maybe the next form the computer takes will be fun again. Or maybe not. But someday when your journey is complete, you will once again come face to face with the Dell Dimension Desktop. And when you do, you should greet it as an old friend. It’s missed you.
Loved reading this!
[ this was great , thank you ]