Andrey Travin. Presence effect II

Presence effect II
Andrey Travin

Publication date: April 17, 2001

No longer a boy. And to this day, hyperlinks sharpen attention like caffeine. They invigorate with a different color and the ability to move. But if you think about it, why bother?
It would seem that there is a feeling that I am not on the Internet in passing. But he lived almost to his fortieth birthday, and still had no name, no surname, no domain.

By the way, it turned out that I have a common birthday with the website Molotok.ru . And this molotok.ru finally hammers the nails into the coffin of my fame. Compared to his traffic, it seems that I have popularity for a maximum of three or even an intimate double.
And, by the way, women. What songs I sang to them about the distant north, having become closely acquainted on the Internet! What letters I wrote in the program with the gentle female name Eudora !

From my Greek name Andrey to your Varangian name Olga, the path is long, like from the Varangians to the Greeks. Thanks to the email postman for delivering this letter. May his path not be so thorny next time...

End of quote. When you present a text in the “as I said” genre, you don’t have to put quotation marks. But the path to fame is longer than to the familiar Olga, to another Olga and to three more Olgas, of which one is in Lithuania, the other is in Siberia, and the third is at Microsoft.

I, of course, understand that those who learn to play the mandolin or harp from childhood doom themselves to obscurity in advance. And what should be the temperament of a person who plays the harp?!! Since childhood, I only play the guitar, but still no one knows my songs.

The Internet is my last hope to leave my mark on our world. has already found 666 documents about me True, Aport has found 111 and Rambler . But who would enter a query with my first and last name? My girlfriends can get to know me in a more pleasant way. And in general, you need to love the Internet in yourself, and not yourself on the Internet.

I remember five years ago I came across an email address on the Internet that belonged to the owner of another music archive: guitar@olga.net . To some, of course, the address is just an address, but it was like cold water poured over me when I saw what it was made of. First - a favorite musical instrument, then - a woman’s favorite name, similar to the sound of the first string breaking, and in conclusion - such a tragic “net” - an echo of unrequited love and failed glory.

A few years later, I got myself a sonorous address andrew@guitar.ru : my favorite male name, my favorite musical instrument... only instead of “dot no” it says “dot Ru”, which is actually the same in terms of the degree of tragedy. After all, how can an honest person achieve anything in Tochka Ru? Even at school, studying Russian literature of the nineteenth century, you discover that all smart people were superfluous in society. And my favorite poem from the school curriculum is “I go out alone on the road” - well, literally iOne .

But descendants will still remember the poets, because their names are unforgettable. Especially the name of the one who wrote best about the futility of trying to leave a mark on this earth: Giyas Ad-din Abul Fath Omar ibn Ibrahim al-Khayyam an-Naysaburi. If something happens, please forgive me for possible mistakes - I am writing the poet’s full name from memory.
And people like me cannot declare themselves while dead . Therefore, often listening to the cawing of sleepy crows, one dreams of becoming famous as soon as possible.

As a young man who did not know the Internet, on the train that took me to Central Asia, I wrote more than one rubaiyat. Of these, it is worth remembering this:

Don't look for your purpose in beautiful things:
the meaning of life is invisible, as if Allah.
The one who understood him took care, right,
about the visible traces left behind.

In new times, it seems, I am beginning to understand the connection between visible traces and one simultaneously almost beautiful and almost invisible “thing” - the World Wide Web.
Omar Khayyam and Francois Villon amaze us not with new revelations, but with the fact that these people, who lived hundreds of years ago, thought the same as we do. So our descendants may be struck by a web page that ends with the line “Copyright Imyarek 1997” and finds an echo in their thoughts. teaches us After all, one old magazine that “The Internet is a new way of thinking.” Although today for some of us it is far from new.

Today, say, a single netmaster may turn out to be wiser than Artemy Lebedev , just as the Optina elders were wiser than Leo Tolstoy. And for this it is not necessary to have a registered domain.

But no one listens to the “pensionets” (Zhitinsky’s term) these days. Nowadays it is fashionable to be online gurus. For them, the age limit is the same as on porn sites - from eighteen and older.
True, the gu.ru domain already belongs to Sergei Aksenov , who, by the way, uses it only for his email. But, as has been said, I’m totally crazy about beautiful email addresses. The problem is that you have to look for the table of contents of your creative heritage, God bless your soul, only in Yandex. And when you want to say something at a conference about website architecture, other gurus will first demand to see your business card and portfolio. This is where you literally remember Zhvanetsky: “Well, what views on architecture can a person without registration express?”

were discovered on the Everywhere Web When the first encyclopedias , I found in one of them the name of my famous Great-Great-Great-Grandfather - the architect Matvey Kazakov. Neither Napoleon, who burned Moscow, nor the Bolsheviks, who demolished it with a bulldozer and explosives, could completely destroy his portfolio...
Of course, what can I say? Yes, there were people at that time - heroes, not us. And here we have only the wind humming in the wires and light bytes of our notes rushing through the wires or the windy ether.

But still, I like our time more than all others - precisely from the point of view of the ease of being and non-existence.

In January 48 before the Nativity of Christ, it was necessary to cross the Rubicon with the exclamation: “The die is cast!” - so that in March 2001 after R.H. get... into the encyclopedia with the strange name Rubricon . Any of us, in order to turn out to be characters on hundreds of web pages, only needs to cross the thin line that separates the space from himself with the prefix “cyber”. With a good connection, this happens so quickly that it seems as if the die had already been cast by someone for us...

You know, Olga, sometimes it’s as if I’m still in paganism: both because I ask for health from the ice water poured on myself, and because I love those caresses because of which the ancient Greeks are called pagans. This kind of language work is more familiar to me than declarations of love. However, while my tongue caresses only the word “Olga,” the path from your Varangian name to my Greek caresses is long, like from the Varangians to the Greeks...

I remember, while preparing to welcome the new century and getting rid of the rubbish of the last century, for example, the boring Rambler's Top100 badge, I managed to notice the numbers that the dispassionate counter showed “goodbye”. It turned out that the total number of visitors to my author’s website over three years is approximately equal to the number of visitors to Lenta.ru over four days. Well, it would be strange if it were the other way around: politicians, thieves and murderers, collectively called “newsmakers,” have their own fame and their own traffic. But is it really bad to find yourself in the role of one of those unbeaten people who are given for one beaten one, and write texts with an HTML editor, and not with someone else’s or your own blood ?

Here you will literally remember Zhvanetsky: “Come on, let’s have an easier encyclopedia, for light genres, for your own... for the authors of one or two jokes.” So this is the encyclopedia that our old people dreamed of! Its name is the Internet. For painters who draw in a sketchbook. For beautiful women who shine for free. For poets scribbling poems on notebook sheets. For the crazy people who were endlessly sent so far away that all they had to do was build their website on Geosites . For those who were born in Odessa. For those who died young...
“These stones in the dust under our feet were once the pupils of captivating eyes.” Let's put so many captivating eyes in JPG format on our pages that they will touch even the stony heart of Rambler. Or let them be discovered by Google - the search engine of our lives, which produces results in accordance with the citation index, that is, the memory of each of us. Its name - Google - is assigned to the number 10 to the power of 100. This number is special because there is no such number in the Universe. If, say, we count the number of elementary particles in its visible part, then their number will be less than 10 in a hundredth. But you must agree that the visible part of the Universe is a small part of real life compared to the tears and thoughts invisible to the world, as well as the texts that only we were able to come up with. And the Internet is a perpendicular world that does not have to repeat the turns of our unlucky lives. The number of intonations with which we pronounce the name of our beloved is less than Google, but if we post phrases of our separations on the Internet, how many bits will there be in them?
In short, let's live like white people, creating white information noise on the Internet. Plus women, of course. Although, no matter how seditious it sounds, women are not the most important thing in order to live and live. The main thing is the mirrors. By creating numerous “mirrors” of our sites all over the Internet, we can hope that some of them will avoid the elephant tread of Golden Telecom or the whim of a nameless system administrator.
Here is the call of the information age: good people, keep your “mirrors” open in order to live long. If, of course, there are at least a few bytes in your life that are worth living for.