Well, you could issue a similar command. Only, instead of saying you
wanted to reach drive B, you might ask for drive H—which is how the
other person’s drive might be electronically known around the office.
That’s with The WEB set up the simplest way. Even with The WEB in a more
complex form, however, the procedure wouldn’t be much harder.
On the other hand, The WEB isn’t the system for you if you’re hoping
just to press one or two buttons to send information on its way.
What Special Features Do You Need?
Ask, ask, ask the sales reps about what’s available.
Remember, some networks won’t let you share printers or modems or even
send files to another computer. Also, will printing take longer to set
up remotely than with all the equipment by your side? How easy is it?
Also, does the network have =queuing=? If user A and user B both send
out files to be printed on the same machine, will a disk hold user B’s
file until A is done? If there’s queuing, have you given up something in
return?
Find out, too, if the network is =interrupt driven=? Let’s say someone’s
getting information off one of your computer’s disks while you’re
typing. Where should your computer concentrate its processing power? On
the network? Or on your screen and keyboard? Better make it the screen
and keyboard, since you want your machine to record _all_ the keystrokes
you’re putting in. And on an interrupt-driven system, this can happen.
So there’s less chance of “Now is the time for all good men to ...”
coming out as “Nwi thetme fr all good mn....”
Is error checking in use? Will the computers ask if the others received
the signal okay? Will they start again if they didn’t?
Also, what about machine A using its software to work with the contents
of machine B’s disks?
And can you use your pet word-processing software to print an electronic
file on someone else’s printer without getting in the way of the program
he’s running at the time?
What about electronic mail and equivalents of The WEB’s “flash” command?
Can you easily open your electronic mailbox to see what messages are
awaiting you? Will your computer even tell you on screen when you have a
“letter”? Will it beep at you? If there’s a flash-style arrangement for
short messages to appear on screen, can you turn it off? Not that E-Mail
and “flash” are pure delights. You may not be at the screen to receive
your electronic message; with a phone message or an intercom, on the
other hand, the other person would know immediately that you weren’t.
Then again, with E-Mail or a flash-type arrangement, you can help soften
the effects of telephone tag.[78]
Footnote 78:
Telephone tag occurs when person A returns B’s call, but now _B_ isn’t
available. With an E-Mail arrangement, A and B could exchange messages
without the other being available at the same time.
Also, how about =file locking=, which keeps user A out of a file that
user B is working on? That’s probably a “must.” You can’t have someone
changing numbers at the same time you are and see the results add up
wrong for both of you.
Another question arises. Do you want people from field offices to be
able to dial in via modems? This dial-up experience—along with the
general-network kind—might help you eventually make the transition to
telecommuting. Obviously, however, modems may mean security problems.
Local area networks, of course, just like multiuser systems, have
security risks even without modems. You’ll perhaps want to set up the
network with passwords and =user-privilege levels= so that only you can
get into every nook and cranny of the system—and no one can read _every_
electronic file. It’s a question of management style. In fact, in
respecting people’s privacy, you might even arrange for only them to be
able to read some information stored on their hard disks. At any rate,
do investigate the security capability of a system very carefully before
buying. Don’t let a network’s technical failings complicate office
politics.
Needless to say, too, make sure that no one can find his way to the
payroll data base to give himself an unofficial raise.
What Kind of Protocol Does the Network
Use?
“Protocol” is just a set of rules telling how computerlike gizmos speak
to each other.
By the way, networks can share a protocol but still not be on speaking
terms. The WEB uses Ethernet’s basic protocol but can’t hook up to it,
since Ethernet transmits information faster across the network.
Wait. There’s one other complication. Different Ethernet-style
systems—from different manufacturers—speak different dialects.
“Assume nothing,” says Bigelow on the issue of whether different
networks or machines will work with each other. “Nothing’s obvious.”
Before buying, insist if possible that the sales rep set up his hardware
and _show_ you the “compatibility” he’s been claiming.
How Easy Is the Network to Install?
A WEB-type network might be a nightmare for the lazy and sloppy. It
requires hooking printed circuit boards up to the right leads of chips
in the Kaypro. And you must also solder the telephone-style sockets into
which your computer’s network cord plugs.[79]
Footnote 79:
Bigelow plans a more rugged version of The WEB transmission line in
the future to make installation less tricky.
But a good data-processing department shouldn’t have any problems,
according to The WEB’s makers.
What about small businesses without data-processing people?
They might buy both their computers and the network from a systems house
if possible—a company that will do more than the average computer store
in getting various machines to work well together. But you’ve already
bought your computer? And a good computer store or systems house isn’t
nearby? And the network maker can’t vouch for any technicians near you?
Then you might avoid the networks that need soldering and other grubby
work.
Even if a well-regarded store or systems house does sell you the
network, see if the technicians will get it running _before_ they set it
up at your business and you officially take delivery. Better still, see
if they’ll do that before you officially accept delivery.
How Much Support Will the Manufacturer
Give You?
Often, if software comes with a computer, the software house will buck
you back to the computer manufacturer if you have a question or problem.
And that may or may not be true with network systems.
If the network is built into the computer, you might want to see if you
can also get direct support from the company responsible for the
networking system.
It works the other way, too. If you buy a network from an independent
manufacturer, is the firm familiar enough with your computer to make
sure the system works well with it? Know exactly who will do the
servicing and consider a service contract, which usually costs 1-2
percent of the hardware costs per month.
In shopping around, you shouldn’t worry about jargon so much as you do
about the performance of the network as _you_ perceive it.
Below, however, are some necessary terms to master. We’ll begin with
three kinds of =topology=—the word for the way a network is laid out:
A Bus
A cable hooks up a bus network’s computers in parallel in the manner of
lights on some Christmas trees.
A bus network may offer advantages in office layouts. You don’t have to
clutter things up with a whole series of wires running back to fancy
equipment in a central location. You just lay one main wire with sockets
that the individual micros plug into.
Other equipment needs _may_ be simple. The WEB, a bus network, requires
printed circuit boards for all computers, installed in the machines
themselves. That’s about it other than the software and the wire.
Fancier systems using a bus—like most versions of Ethernet and Corvus
Systems’ popular micro network called Omninet—need a =file server=.
A file server can be a computer minus the keyboard and screen but with
extra communications ports to help signals get in and out in a hurry.
It’s connected to the hard disk, which stores and relays the electronic
files that people send it. In some networks a file server can also be a
regular computer simply assigned to the job.
With a server arrangement you’re always sharing files with the server
rather than directly with other members of the network. The hard disk is
between you and the machine you’re trying to reach.
By the way, _if_ everyone must use software from the server, that means
a very, very busy hard disk—and potentially slower running programs.
A Star
In star topology, the individual computers are at the points of a
starlike layout of cables radiating from a file server.
If the server conks out, everyone in the network is out of luck. But
then that could also happen in rare cases if a printed circuit board in
a bus network became mischievous in the worst way.
Normally, computers on a star network can’t be more than perhaps 200
feet apart, and perhaps much less.
Corvus’s Constellation network uses the star.
Most multiuser systems—which I won’t call true networks—use the star
arrangement to hook up the dumb terminals to their central brain.
A Ring
Messages zip along a circle in one direction until they reach the right
computer. If the ring’s broken, the network crashes.
Also, distance may be limited to less than a few hundred feet without
costly repeaters. With the right equipment and enough money, however,
you can go much farther.
One beauty of a ring arrangement is that in small networks the speeds
can be very fast. Larger networks slow it down.
A ring network often uses =token passing=. Think of the children’s game
where, when you’re caught with a ball or other object, you’re “it.” The
kids try not to be.[80]
Footnote 80:
Thanks to Ed Bigelow for the children’s game metaphor for the ring
network. The kids try not to be.
In token passing, though, the computers don’t mind being “it” at all.
Getting the “ball” means they have the okay to send to another machine
through the ring.
If you as a computer get the ball, you get the privilege of replacing it
with the message you want to send. You “hold” the ball until the message
you’ve sent comes back to you through the ring. Then you send the ball
on its way to the next computer. The whole process, of course, is almost
instantaneous.
Some people say it may be easier to design software for a ring, since
the token passing means there’s no chance of signals colliding.
Radio Shack’s Arcnet uses token passing.
You also may end up grappling with different wiring styles.
Telephone Style
WEB-style networks mostly use a cable somewhat like the kind between the
outside of your house and your phone jack. This cable has four
=conductors=—individual wires within it. Commonly, two “hot” conductors
carry computer signals. Between them, often, are two =ground wires=
attached to the computers. You need good, solid ground connections for
the networks to work right.
Twisted Pair
A twisted-pair network is what it sounds like—one normally using a pair
of wires that twist around each other to form a long spiral. The
twisting makes the cable less sensitive to electrical interference from
radio transmitters, air conditioners, or other appliances.
Shielded Wire
You could also guard the twisted wires from electrical interference by
enclosing it in woven copper or metal shielding.
=Coaxial cable= is a common form of shielded wire. It’s costly—it may
sell for more than $1 a foot. Coaxial cable could be four times or more
the cost of a twisted pair. It consists of one or more thin wires buried
in plastic-type insulation under the shielding.
“Coax,” as the pros say for short, is the kind that’s normally black
outside and looks like a thin snake that stretches on forever. (The
pronunciation is “co-ax.”)
Not that the color’s important. “We use powder blue,” says a man with
one network company.
Ethernet and Wangnet both use coax; so do cable-TV installations. In
fact, some cable companies have transmitted computer signals. A TV cable
doesn’t care if you use it for carrying a gangster movie or a bank
payroll.
But just because Ethernet uses coax doesn’t mean it’s normally good
enough to carry most TV-like signals. It is just =baseband= in capacity.
You’d normally use Ethernet simply for computerlike messages or maybe
some telephone; it’s like a single, high-speed highway.
Wangnet, however, is =broadband= and can carry TV. It resembles a whole
transportation network—a highway, air corridors, and a river.
You have many well-separated channels. In fact, Wangnet is piping along
signals at radio and TV frequencies. And the right gadgetry can separate
them just as easily as a good television does. You can go for miles with
Wangnet—much farther than with Ethernet, which may need signal boosters
after several thousand feet.
People at Wang, Xerox, and the others can get truculent and maybe even
paranoid about their pet networks versus their rivals’.
“There is no light at the end of the tunnel yet,” said a friend of mine
who’s a systems analyst. “Everyone is looking over everyone else’s
shoulder to see what they’re doing.” And it isn’t just the computer
industry. The PBX[81] makers, the switchboard manufacturers, want their
shares of the action, too. This works the other way, too. IBM in 1984
said it would make Rolm—a major PBX maker—part of the Big Blue empire.
Footnote 81:
PBX stands for private branch exchange.
Room exists, of course, for many styles of networks—even in the same
companies in some cases.
Bigelow aptly likens networks to word processors. We don’t all use
WordStar; why should we all be on Ethernet?
With the right hardware, in fact, a twisted pair or maybe even a bus
network might merge with the baseband and broadband ones. Networked
second- or even third- or fourth-hand micros might speak to mainframes.
The state of West Virginia in 1984 planned to buy hundreds of IBM
computers. Many reportedly would be on Omninets. As of mid-1984 an
Omninet could have only sixty-three micros on it—but why not link many
Omninets to big-time networks? A man at Corvus assured me that’s exactly
what his company was working on for customers like West Virginia. AT&T
may have had the right idea. It planned a network to work with Ethernet
and Corvus, plus the RS-232-style arrangement that you already use to
hook up computers with printers and modems.
That could be just the solution for some large companies that feel
they’re just innocent civilians in the network wars.
Meanwhile, if you’re with a small company like Carsonville Metal
Products, home in on your immediate needs. Again, don’t worry about
high-powered networks designed for the Fortune 500 crowd. Maybe all
computers someday will work with Ethernet, say, and perhaps it’ll be
just as cheap for you as a WEB-style net, but it isn’t now. Meanwhile,
if an Ethernet-equipped firm wants to talk to your computers today,
there’s already a network in place with fairly common technical
standards: the telephone system.
Everything still sound scary? Well, just forget the jargon and simply
pin down the sales reps to make sure that the network will do what _you_
want.
Hire a consultant if need be. And follow the normal rule of computer
shopping and check with existing customers to see if they’re happy.
Wise network shopping, as indicated earlier, can pay off.
In mid-1984, Madden, taking advantage of The WEB, was putting the
finishing touches on some software modifications. With them, whenever
Carsonville made new sales or bought new supplies, he could instantly
see the results on the companies’ general ledger; and just as important,
he and his colleagues could easily keep up with the costs of their
existing contracts. They could compile a historical record, too, a big
help in planning new bids. Now that Carsonville’s computers were
talking, the humans might be talking more—about the new business that
the sociable machines could help bring their way.
14 ❑ As The Jungle Thickens (AKA the Great Modeming)
This was to be my future chapter, the one about microcomputers in the
year 2001. I at first wanted it short. So often the micro future
prematurely becomes the micro past; and why devote too much space to
making a fool of myself?
And why not spread the risks? Arthur C. Clarke seemed a better
prophet.[82]
Footnote 82:
For some of Clarke’s own writing on the future, readers might turn to
_1984: Spring—A Choice of Futures_, published by Ballantine Books, New
York, 1984.
Several months earlier, in fact, he’d agreed to an interview via modems
and the satellite links between Colombo, Sri Lanka, and Alexandria,
Virginia. So now I’d show that my little Kaypro, with a free software
program and a $150 modem, could talk almost instantly to a stranger’s
computer on the other side of the planet for perhaps a fraction of the
cost of a telex. It seemed fitting. Clarke, after all, had written
_2010_ with WordStar and decades ago had practically invented the idea
of communications satellites.
And if I failed to catch up with Clarke by computer? Well, I supposed it
would be like a train journey to Outer Mongolia; I at least could write
of the experience of _trying_ to get there and of the people I met along
the way.
I’d cop out in one more respect. Rather than ask Clarke the usual
reporterish questions, I would turn the job over to others. The first
was Eric Meyer, twelve years old, who was learning assembly language, a
feat at any age, and who planned to start a software company called New
Technologies.[83] The second was a Fortune 500 man named Jerry terHorst,
head of Ford Motor’s public affairs office in Washington, D.C., and
former press secretary to Gerald Ford. The third was Margaret Phanes,
assistant to David Kay, vice-president of the company that had made my
computer; the fourth, Seymour Rubinstein, a science-fiction fan and the
developer of WordStar. The fifth was Rob Barnaby, the WordStar writer.
The sixth was James Watt, co-owner of the Haunted Book Shop in
Annapolis, Maryland, and a descendant of the eighteenth-century Scottish
inventor. The seventh, Lynn Wilson, a former railroad telegrapher, had
taught me some amateur radio theory when I was twelve.
Footnote 83:
Eric later decided to change the name of his company to EMCo. Computer
Consulting.
Eric himself had just passed his novice examination for an amateur
license, and over the phone, with a push button, I tapped out my idea in
international Morse code.
“How,” I inquired, “would you like to ask Arthur Clarke some questions?”
“Who’s Arthur Clarke?” Eric replied by voice.
It was a pardonable response. Clarke’s _2001_—the book and movie for
which he’s most famous—had come out several years before Eric’s birth.
And yet as much as anything, Eric’s reply showed where we were headed in
this age of specialization. He might someday be programming the future
equivalents of HAL, developing new forms of artificial intelligence, and
yet he apparently had not heard of HAL’s creator.
I told Eric who Clarke was. “No, thanks,” Eric tapped.
“But he’s the most famous science-fiction writer in the world,” I said,
and explained the kind of issues that he might ask about.
Eric, however, still wasn’t completely impressed. “Does he understand
technical things?”
I assured Eric that Arthur Clarke was technical enough to be worth his
time. “We’re going to do this by computers over the phone lines,” I
said. “In fact, I’d like you to send your questions to me by computer.
Then I’ll store them inside mine. And then I’ll shoot them by computer
to Arthur Clarke there in Sri Lanka. You’ll be communicating machine to
machine, sort of.”
“Where’s Sri Lanka?”
“It’s an island in the Indian Ocean.”
“Would you use my communications program?” Eric asked.
Eric wasn’t talking about software he’d bought. It was what he had
_written_.
“No,” I said. “I’m going to use MODEM7, because I’m familiar with it.”
“Couldn’t you say you used a communications program written by Eric
Meyer, age twelve?” he asked. It wasn’t the worst twist in the
world—good for the book, good for Eric, who, as a reporter’s son, showed
a precocious public relations sense. “I won’t use it to reach Clarke,” I
said, “but you can use it to send your file to me.”
“All right.”
“Read _2001_,” I said.
Eric readily agreed.
“I remember the title,” he said later, “but I was out when one of the
kids in my class gave a report on it.”
“I’ll want your reaction.”
“Okay.”
We also attended to another matter. Eric didn’t own an amateur radio rig
yet, and I offered to lend him my Heathkit, a little five-watt
transmitter-receiver stashed away in the closet of my efficiency
apartment.
“Is it digital?” Eric asked. Did it have, in other words, a “non-dial”
like those newfangled watches?
“No.”
“I was hoping it was.”
“It’s transistorized.” That was good enough for me. Who needed a radio
without a dial?
Eric took me up on my offer, which included the gift of some old chassis
and capacitors and other parts, forgotten until now in the crawl space
of my parents’ home. And I was pleased that Eric accepted, for I liked
the symmetry of it all. Two decades earlier Lynn Wilson had given me
some of the very equipment I’d be passing on to Eric. And so I visited
my parents’ basement that weekend and reentered the past, not only my
own but also that of electronics, including computers in a sense; for
perhaps this is how the micro age had _truly_ begun—hobbyists swapping
parts back and forth until someone accumulated enough to build a system
that actually worked.[84]
Footnote 84:
The actual beginnings of the micro age, less romantically, go back to
the invention of the microprocessor—a central processing unit on one
chip—in 1970. It happened at Intel, an electronics company in Santa
Clara, California, and was the idea of a young Stanford University
grad named Ted Hoff.
Lynn Wilson was all over the crawl space. I picked up a 6146 transmitter
tube on which he had playfully magic markered, “For David, K4DIG, DX
King.” DX was the amateur radio jargon for long-distance communications.