Caught in the Web

Zach's a computer idealist. He's offended by the idea of patented algorithms, regarding them as public intellectual property, like the old hackers who programmed in the public domain, who believed information on the Internet should be free to everyone because that's what's going to make the cultural difference in the future. He resents the culture trying to impose itself on the Net--"the traditional hacker is a rebel by nature," he says, referring to his heroes, the early computer prodigies at MIT as portrayed in Steven Levy's book, Hackers, which Zach calls an "important book."

"Early hackers are better role models than, say, football players," Levy says, speaking from his office in New York. "Troy Aikman and Emmitt Smith might be great people, but their accomplishments off the field aren't inspiring. There's an iconoclastic--but not violent--element to the hackers' ethic that would appeal to teenagers. And society is really rewarding these people now--they're millionaires."

The hacker ethic: Access to computers should be unlimited and total. All information should be free. Mistrust authority. Computers can change your life for the better.

St. Mark's only offers two computer science courses, which Zach took in the first two years of upper school. He's trying to schedule a CS class at a local college--Southern Methodist University, University of Texas at Dallas, or even University of North Texas, where his stepmother works--which is allowed by St. Mark's as long as it meshes with his courses there (difficult, since the school is on a trimester system). He thinks about returning to St. Mark's to teach computer science, and he already has his course planned--"object-oriented--they have nothing on that." He's even imagined the first day of class. "I'd just walk in and throw them an orange, and say, 'Tell me about this. What properties does this object have?'" He likes to imagine creating a computer virus that would break through anti-virus programs, one that, after announcing its presence to a dismayed user, would actually attack and destroy other computer viruses--a T-cell computer virus.

On the Internet, Zach could use all his intelligence and ambition without worrying about things like physical appearance or awkwardness, the curse of all teenage boys. The computer screen allows openness but removes the threat of a personal encounter--the effect of a confessional screen. The Internet was a safe place to go, an alternate reality that allowed Zach to be who he wanted to be. After all, if relationships got too difficult on the Net, he could always disengage from the personal and go back to the programming--or just move on to a more distant cyber frontier.

He was a master--an expert--on the Net, and its graphic extension, the Wide World Web. His days were spent at a rigorous, regimented traditional all-boys' prep school where the emphasis is on the well-rounded boy, where everyone is encouraged to participate in sports, and football stars are still the school heroes. The Net widened his view of the world. And it provided a filter. The Net was a logical place for a kid like Zach to meet people--chances are, they would at least share his main interest. No wonder relationships seemed to work well for him on the Internet.

Zion and Koani, Zach and Jess, fell in love. Via the Internet. The age difference didn't seem to matter. The distance hardly mattered. They talked every day on the Net, getting to know each other, hanging out, laughing, quarreling, doing almost everything that young lovers do, but doing it in cyberspace. Author Mark Slouka has railed against the Net, arguing that "what the wires carry is not the stuff of the soul. A cyberkiss is not the same thing as a real kiss." Others insist that communication on the Internet actually is experience.

By last spring, Zach was obsessed, if not addicted, to the Net and began seeing a psychiatrist about it. Usually an honors student near the top of his class, he was failing two courses. His problems at home were escalating. All the Eagle Scout thought about was how to outwit his parents and deceive his psychiatrist so he could spend more time at the computer. He stayed up late into the night to talk to friends in other time zones. He figures he was spending an average of "one out of four" minutes on the Internet, about six hours a day. Over a period of 10 months, that's 1,800 hours. It's typical of Zach that he would work the math on his own emotional problem--though in the end, he decided he needed help to solve it.