Carol’s Column

I lost my men in a techno nightmare in cyberspace

For years I owned a reliable laptop computer. It worked, did all that it was meant to do and we shared a mutual understanding. Then it died. I took it to my friendly computer shop, who investigated its innards and told me it was moribund. They explained that to replace various organs to enable it to function would cost double the price of a new laptop.

A computer is like an electric blanket, indispensable. So I immediately replaced it with an updated PC with a modem, speakers and other fancy features. My new computer, named Udder - an abbreviation of Compudder - can do virtually everything.

As is common, I subscribe to a service provider to enable me to link up to the Internet and use wondrous e-mail. I use the word "wondrous" advisedly as e-mail allows users to communicate worldwide at a tiny fraction of the cost of a phone or fax call and, unlike a postal system, it's immediate.

I phoned M-Web, the company to which I subscribe, and was immediately connected to Norman of technical services. This was the beginning of a long relationship.

I don't know if you've looked at the Getting Started booklets they give you when you purchase a new computer and I don't know if you've tried to work your way through a system following all the instructions.

Let me tell you, no matter how brilliant you might be, you will not be able to decipher more than 10% of what appears upon your screen. Hence the help call.

"How can I help you?" said Norman.

"I cannot find my hole," I retorted.

"That can be a problem," he agreed.

I was, of course, referring to the hole on the modem into which the wire leading to the phone could be inserted. I think Norman was relieved that we were talking computers.

For those of you not attached to a computer, I should explain that e-mail can only be accessed through the Internet, which only works if your computer is connected to the phone. Mine was not connected nor could I see how it could be.

With the phone clutched to my ear, Norman spoke me through the steps eliminating the plugs and fittings at the back of the modem until there were two barely visible sockets left into which the cord could fit.

This whole process took half an hour and I hadn't even switched on the computer.

During the next few hours, Norman, then Pashir, then Nathier One and Nathier Two and finally Gordon helped me through the fog of incomprehensible cyber-speak. Together we valiantly fought off URL, as in Uniform Resource Locator, and made our way through defragmentation, LAN, Hypertext Markup Language and so on. Slowly, patiently, step by step, they led me towards the activation of my e-mail.

I'd started at 6pm: by 9pm I had single-handedly downed a bottle of excellent Cordoba Crescendo 95 and was singing along with Udder when suddenly, on the screen appeared the magic word "CONNECTION".

Triumphantly I clicked and connected and heard the sweet peep of the phone dial and connect. My screen flashed.

"Welcome to Net-Active" it said. Aha. "Phone this number for your activation code," commanded the screen. So I did and somebody answered.

"Hello Norman, Pashir, Nathier, Nathier or Gordon," I said perkily, "it's Carol again." We were all good friends by this time.

There was silence and then I discovered that I lost my friends in cyberspace. I am instead connected to Mark of Net-Active who doesn't want me. Help!

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