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The New Root for Mozilla

Date: 6-Oct-2007/8:09+3:00

Tags: , , , ,

Characters: me, old man, her

I was spent a long time reading a big changing list of email addresses and websites. One in particular was "charold@aoltech", with no suffix. In general the suffixes were all a lot of really strange and diverse things...I remember some ended in ".axe" and others had multiple bits, like ".sea.hq"
Noticing the scene fading and feeling like I was going to pass out, I yelled out.
me: "I need help. I have a medical emergency."
A nurse came in, and started shaking some kind of powder on my head. It kind of helped, and I could see the nurse and an old man who was in the room. What helped more was the removal of some kind of brace around my neck--it felt good.
me: "That's rather impressive, because I feel a bit better than I am in bed with my body. What's going on?"
old man: "You were saying that you think people should be treated well, and that there's no way of knowing whether your computer is lying to you or not."
me: "Oh. That's true. Do you guys know how the domain name system works? I'm very concerned about all these weird domain suffixes I saw."
Going over to a computer I tried to open a Notepad application, but it seemed to be running some kind of Linux variant. So I asked for a place to start typing, and someone opened a spreadsheet and let me enter text into a cell. I made typos but it seemed more or less readable:
The domain name system (DNS) is the way that an abstract name, like myspace.com, is turned into an address, like 120.10.10.4. This is how the computer knows where to send information. There are many points of failure, and every computer is vulnerable to being lied to.
After I thought I had written this down about the best I could, I addressed the room.
me: "The question we must answer is, why when you see google.com do you see something different than what I see in my world? There might be a reason, but whatever is allowing us to communicate now indicates that we can connect. So if we get the internet protocol to line up we should be able to communicate. I don't know what you can show me, but I have a lot of things I can show you. It would be a personal victory to prove your existence, regardless of if you think anything you have is valuable to me or not."
A woman walked in the room, followed by a bald man. I got a sinister vibe but I realized that the woman was just kind of stupid, but the bald man was evil.
her: "That email you sent... wow, everyone thinks you're brilliant!"
me: "The thing about the DNS I wrote in the spreadsheet?"
her: "No, the new root you posted for Mozilla."
The bald man started to approach me with hypodermic needles, trying to inject me. I managed to wrestle them out of his hands, one after another, and start poking them into his face and even more gruesomely, his eyeball. It seemed to have little effect, he'd just produce more needles from his pocket.
One injection awoke me, breaking a pretty good streak of being able to stay in the dream.
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The accounts written here are as true as I can manage. While the words are my own, they are not independent creative works of fiction —in any intentional way. Thus I do not consider the material to be protected by anything, other than that you'd have to be crazy to want to try and use it for genuine purposes (much less disingenuous ones!) But who's to say?