The Power of Dreams

[T]

I write for a website devoted to all things nerd and geek, LittleWhiteDog.com. When the site owner learned that I was paying a visit to Boston for this gathering, he asked me to write an article about it. This is the result.

=====X=====

The Power of Dreams

It turns out wanting something can make it real.

Something magical happened earlier today. Inspired by no more than a series of numbers, several hundred people gathered on September 23rd, 2007, at 2:38 p.m. in Rev. Thomas J. Williams Park, Cambridge, Massachusetts, to mark the autumnal equinox.

The one thing every attendee had in common was a love for (or curiosity about) the comic strip XKCD, a self-proclaimed "webcomic of romance, sarcasm, math, and language." In March 2007 the comic's creator, Randall Munroe, drew a comic about a man who dreamed. He dreamed that he met a woman in a world on the brink of cataclysm. She whispered a set of coordinates, a date, and a time into his ear. The man went to that set of coordinates at the specified date and time, but no-one showed up. The final line of the comic was, "it turns out wanting something doesn't make it real."

The coordinates in question, 42.39561 degrees North by 71.13051 degrees West, are for a geometric structure in the above-mentioned park. Vaguely reminiscent of a buckyball, the structure provides plenty of space - and strength - for upwards of 100 people to occupy it; I heard tell that one enterprising chap had his laptop with him inside the structure, and managed to find enough space among the mass of flesh to document the event.

I arrived at the park at 2 p.m. to find the place already unbelievably busy. The big geometric shape was already teeming with people, some of whom had already been on it for two hours, just waiting for the appointed time. In one corner of the park two people were spray-painting t-shirts with various stencilled XCKD-related designs. Next to them was an impromptu tape measuring contest. Beyond the tape measures was a group of musicians playing some guitars and a bowed psaltery. One attendee was walking around with a sphere made from interlocked coat-hangers on his shoulders. Another was wearing a raptor head mask. One girl was walking around wearing a badge demanding that people give her a dollar and ask her why (she was raising money for multiple sclerosis research). Yet other people were gamely trying to fly kites. Cameras, both still and video, were very much in evidence. One chap even brought a webcam and was streaming live footage of the event, courtesy of a nearby wireless hotspot. All the signs I could see had been doctored; the park was - for a while - the Randall Munroe Sweet ass-Park, of the Xity of Kambridge, CD, and the No Dogs signs now prohibited raptors.

As the clock ticked ever closer to 2:38 p.m. more and more people drifted into the park, swelling the crowd further. Randall Munroe and some cohorts moved through the crowd, carrying large poster boards showing the comic which inspired this mad gathering. The last panel of the comic was left blank, for us to add our own thoughts, observations, desires and wishes. The final twenty seconds were marked with a very vocal countdown. As the magic time was reached the crowd let loose an enormous cheer. As the cheer faded one wag called out, "Now what do we do?"

What do we do, indeed. The ostensible purpose of the gathering had been met; we had gathered around the magic coordinates at the proper time. What else was there for us to do? The mood of the crowd was such that the primary reason for the gathering was almost superfluous. People had been in the park for several hours by that point, seeing their friends, making new friends, engaging in all sorts of different activities. What else could we do but continue? The day was so much more than a bunch of strangers converging at a specific place at a specific time. And the Internet helped it to happen.

People have been gathering together at prearranged times for as long as there have been people, from gathering around the settlement's fire at the end of the day, to sports events, music concerts, conventions, and more. Staged events such as music concerts, while to some degree social, have a specific agenda. People turn up to see someone play, and then go home again. The demographic is most often local, since the performer will usually be on a tour, with dates advertised in the local press for each stop on the tour. In contrast, what happened today was something much more fluid than a music concert. There was no specific agenda. It happened simply because someone thought, "What if?" and then asked the world.

Yes, the Internet helped it to happen. Whether the Internet was the cause, or merely an accessory, is open to debate. What is certain, though, is that without the Internet today's gathering would not have taken place. If Randall Munroe's comic was solely published in print, its audience would be limited. Print runs cost money. Not every publication will feel the comic fits in with its style. Some people would see the comic in the funny pages and smile briefly, before flicking over to the latest sports results. A few people may have turned up, mildly curious to see if anyone else had the same idea. Publishing the comic freely on the Internet, on the other hand, allowed Randall to reach the world.

And reach the world he did. People travelled not just from the United States and Canada, but from the world. At least two of us came from the United Kingdom, one fellow flew in from Russia, and one adventurous lass travelled all the way from Australia. Try to imagine something like this ever happening without the power of the Internet. I got a chance to speak briefly to Randall and asked him if he had any idea that such a gathering could happen in response to his comic. With a twinkle in his - by this point rather weary and overwhelmed - eye he responded affirmatively. He had chosen a date and time sufficiently far ahead to give people time to plan accordingly and, like many other people there, thought that maybe a few curious souls might turn up. I think the scale of the response caught him by surprise. I wonder if the original ARPA researchers ever imagined anything like this arising from their little project.

I was buttonholed by a reporter from the Boston Phoenix and asked about my trip. She wanted to know if this gathering was the sole purpose of my visit, and what I thought had prompted everyone to come. I couldn't speak for everyone, of course, but what prompted me was whimsy. The idea of showing up in a strange place at a certain time, just to see if anyone else might show up as well, struck me as wonderfully absurd, and I had my credit card out and my flights booked as soon as I saw that comic. It didn't matter if no-one else would show up; I would have made the trip and that would have been all that mattered. Walking into that park and seeing all those people there already, all of whom came for the same reason, brought a lump to the throat.

XKCD is in turn whimsical, funny, serious, romantic, naughty, sad, absurd, optimistic, uplifting, and more. It is astoundingly well-written, something belied by the stick-figure simplicity of the drawings. Whether exhorting people to have an adventure, or pondering future nostalgia for Goatse (ask your parents), or supposing a programmer's ending to the world, paying homage to Robert Frost, or reminding people of the value of surreal humour, or writing atrocious chemical puns, or even praising the power of the individual, Randall Munroe always has something to say. And it resonates with people. It offers a glimpse of what might be, what could be, and sometimes just a bloody good laugh. That is why we all came to that park today. Everyone there found meaning in his comic, or was at least curious about it.

The Internet has inspired, and facilitated, other meetings. Here at LittleWhiteDog we have had many gatherings. In 2003 I met up with LittleWhiteDog's founders and other community members, in Ohio and Michigan. In 2006 one of our community, Jaymac, embarked on a grand tour of North America, visiting as many other community members as he could. In Summer this year several of us descended upon Eastern Massachusetts and spent a long weekend at EdisonRex's summer cottage. One of us flew in from Seattle, Washington, and I flew from the UK; it was a close-run contest for which of us had travelled the furthest. Without the immediate and easy communication offered by the Internet, such gatherings would not have happened, or would have taken substantially more effort to organise.

The one overriding quality evident in all these gatherings is how normal everyone is. Everyone turns up to these events because of shared interests; everyone has something in common. Some people are shy, some are ebullient and effusive, some prefer to stand back and observe the goings-on, and some like to jump right in. But they're all normal. They're all just people, the same as you and I, with nary an axe-murderer to be found among them. The Internet is all too often held up as a scourge for our society, a breeding ground for deviance and evil of every stripe, but the truth is more prosaic: the Internet is merely an extension of our society and culture. There is good and bad on the Internet, just like there is good and bad outside of it. Pinning the blame for society's ills on the Internet simply turns the Internet into a scapegoat, without addressing the underlying issues which engender those ills. And it makes for an easy out.

Communities such as LittleWhiteDog, or XKCD, Slashdot, CIX, LambdaMOO, et al, are microcosms of society at large. Friendships and rivalries form, hierarchies emerge, people move in, stay a while, and then move out again. If you spend long enough interacting with someone online, you get a sense of what, if anything, you have in common and whether or not you like that person. Chances are, if you get along online, you'll get along in person as well. Our online personae are, in most cases, our offline personae, distilled. There are always exceptions, but the same holds true for "real" life: how many times have you met someone and been enthused (or repulsed) but eventually found that the substance of that person didn't measure up to your initial impression?

The Internet is a force for good, for social cohesion, if we only treat it as such. If we shy away from the possibilities it offers, if we give in to ignorant fear and believe unquestioningly the tabloid-fuelled hysteria about all the evils of the Internet, then we miss out on the opportunity to reach out to each other, to discover cultures and societies around the world, to realise that, regardless of their backgrounds, those nicknames and handles have real people behind them, people just like us.

Much later, after everyone had left, I returned to the park and saw on the paths some chalk graffiti which had been previously obscured by all the people there. Full of geeky in-jokes and counter-culture references, they paid testament to the imagination and spirit of all those present. Someone had written out the DeCSS source code, someone else had scrawled the HD DVD decryption key in several places. The chorus lyrics from the song Never Gonna Give You Up were carefully written on the asphalt, followed by the taunt, "you just got Rick Rolled!" An exhortation to "hack the planet" abutted a musing on the ephemeral nature of human contact. A quick sketch of a cat's face had the caption, "I can has chalk!" And, in an eminently fitting tribute to the day's events and their inspiration, someone had defiantly chalked, "This is what geeks can do." Not to be outdone, someone else had appended, "I can do more."

Today several hundred people converged on one spot in response to a dream. New friendships were formed, and existing friendships were further cemented. Maybe someone even found his (or her) Dream Girl. It all happened thanks to the power of the Internet, the dream of those early ARPA researchers. And it happened thanks to Randall Munroe's dream, in which he dared us all.

Maybe wanting something can make it real, after all.

Copyright LittleWhiteDog 2007. Used here with permission.

[Ren]

Well done, T. That just about sums it up.

It was nice to meet you there!

[Sprocket]

VERY nice. We dig. Hive mind and all that.

[Davis Square Rocks]

Bravo!

[Azrael]

I'm the wag who shouted "Now what do we do?" from the structure.

[DragonHawk]

Well said, sir! Very well said. You reveal true wisdom in that article. Thank you for sharing it. -- Ben

[doublethevoltage]

Excellent article!

[Sorcyress]

Wow! That's really well written --can I toss a link to that in my report, whenever I get it written?

And hey, I got mentioned. Go me.

~Sor
MOOP!

[ArchangelShrike]

Reading/looking/watching all of this happen makes me sad I wasn't able to be there...

[T]

It was nice to meet you there!

And you. It was my pleasure.

I'm the wag who shouted "Now what do we do?" from the structure.

It certainly caused some laughs.

can I toss a link to that in my report, whenever I get it written?

By all means. Be my guest.


Thank you all for your positive comments. Re-reading it I see things I would still change (three instances of "already" in close proximity, to name but one example), despite plenty of editing, er, already having been done. Ah well, 'tis done now and I shan't change it, just learn for the next one. I (and LWD's owner) wanted to get this up quickly, while it was still fresh in my mind.

Three days later and I'm still on a high from the event. Man, what an amazing day.

[DragonHawk]

Re-reading it I see things I would still change ...

They say art is never finished, only abandoned. Software never finished, only released. I would say the same applies to writing: Never finished, only published.