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Google Is Not An Island

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Jack's last letter had talked about The Internet and the Creationist part of her didn't trust it. She did trust Jack whole-heartedly though, and agreed to give it a try. But only if Memory tried it first. He'd set up his account without much trouble, but when it wouldn't let her be Mother Murra, she tried Murra Fields. The accussing bold type glared back at her, telling her she wasn't a real person, and didn't meet their precious, white standards for what a name was. She remembered long ago being asked if she would have been considered a servant in America if she hadn't hidden being Tribal. Maybe not a servant, but certainly having the name Clare made it far easier.

She could give in now, could be Clare Fields and have it be that, but Clare wasn't her, not any-more. Not in the way that she was wholly and completely Murra and wanted to be Murra.

There are rumours here that a man named Gore created the internet after inventing trousers. I must admit, for a modern-folk-lore it's quite entertaining. I think your man Gore (I'm certain you two have at least shaken hands) over-looked a few things with this Google that he created - did he create Google? The lore says he created all of it, but GeoCities has a thorough debunking of that. Yes, I looked up a few things before trying to create an account for you. The electricity works fine out here, but The Internet is hard to sustain - the cities are full of it, but out here, it becomes scarce and hard to manage. If Gore did not create Google, I am certain you know who did. There is some issue with what is a Real Name. The Google wrote to Mem, after he'd created his account, and told him he was not being compliant. I've asked around, and this is a problem only some are having. If one has a name that is pleasing to the American tongue, it is Real. If one does not, or if one has a noun for a name, they are not Real. Jack, you have to fix this. People are getting angry, and I do not blame them. We didn't do what we did 30 years ago to be told we're not Real now.
Your dearest,


Jack didn't know where to start with the letter. He was amused that the folk-lore was that Al Gore had created the Internet - he knew Murra kept on top of current events and knew the political climate of America, but he was perplexed as to where 'inventing trousers' had come from. As for the Real name, it filled him with rage. There were plenty here in America too, who were told they didn't have a Real Name. Purva, had she signed up for it, would have likely met the same fate that Clare (she'd always be Clare, to him) and Memory had. Memory baffled him. It seemed like the sort of name that one of the theatrestars would give their children. One of them was named Apple. Yet another Scribel. The Hollywood group was a bit on the intense side. Purva had said it wasn't her thing, but had been curious and amused at what Jack was able to do with it. Jack had promised to teach himself coding, to see how it was all built, but he simply never had the time. This move though, Jack wanted to see everything Google did. It had been a drastic move on Google's part, one Jack was instantly suspicious of, to require a Real Name for using Google products. Everything on Google was connected - that had been the brilliance of it. Email, social network - even your Google Searches and Map Use were linked. They had all the information they could ever want on anyone. Even Ellis agreed, and refused to use it, telling Jack to do the same.

"Yahoo," Ellis said, sounding very much like a stubborn old man. "Or AOL. You can be anyone you want on AOL."

"Google wasn't always like this," Jack mused. "And it certainly wasn't when I told them to sign up for it. Ellis, what are we going to do?"

The older man smiled, his eyes glinting. "What we always do. Challenge them."


If Larry Page had been reassured that some people would act out, but that people would accept the Real Name Policy, he wasn't reassured after his inbox crashed twice. Larry was the sort of man who loved the new technology, and found the old machines cumbersome. A few years ago while studying at the new University of the Great Lakes, there had been new machines replacing the cumbersome moveable-type scribes, and things had exploded from there. It was a way to communicate globally - or the promise of it - on machines fuelled by electricity. It had been fascinating to be at the forefront of all of it, and build his great Google empire. Now, that empire was in peril, led by the man who had become the poster-child for the Revolt in Australia, all those years ago.

He sighed in frustration, glancing again at his inbox. Something needed to be done.

He knew just what to do. Bradley Horowitz would gladly help out.

One blog post written by Horowitz later, and some of the tensions died down, but it was only when Google said the Real Name Policy was more of a guideline than an actual rule, that people were quelled in their anger. Well, most people.


Murra frowned at the letter from Jack, the letter that told her and Mem to try again. They had erased everything that Mem had written in the short time he'd had his account. The anger flowing through Murra was too much to be quelled by Jack's reassurances that Google would let her be Real. If she gave them this piece of her, was that not admitting defeat? She might have been a Creator, and could find delighted in the Created Internet, but she was still a proud woman, unafraid to stand on her own and not succumb. They didn't need The Internet, not while they could still send letters and telegrams - and even airships, if they really needed too. Mem had decided to give it another go, but Murra stood tall.

Jack would understand. He always did.