The Cybergypsies

by Indra Sinha

  ‘Why me?’

  ‘You translated the Kama Sutra. It was your supposed erotic expertise, pardon my hilarity, that first made Luna decide to invite you to the Vortex.’

  ‘Unlike you, Luna has never attempted to seduce me.’

  ‘Maybe, but it was those verses of yours that are circulating the internet that inspired Luna to compose the Cyber Sutra.’

  ‘Be careful of Luna,’ she says, no longer smiling. ‘There are some things about her . . .’ Lilith lies on her back staring upward through the Narnian leaves and bird-twitter. ‘Luna is a special case, Bear, she lives through the Vortex.’

  Luna waxing (positively gibbous)

  Tell me a story,’ commands Luna. We’re at the fair, sitting in a car on top of the Big Wheel. In the distance are the woods of Narnia and beyond them, a sea streaked with sunset gold.

  I tell her about my hacking of Nasty Ned.

  ‘What became of him?’

  ‘What do you expect?’

  ‘I don’t know,’ she says. ‘It surely depends on what the picture was that you stole from his computer. Was it a child?’

  ‘She was young, but how young was hard to tell. She looked Thai, wearing a schoolgirl get-up that was more corny than porny.’

  ‘So! Not a genuine nymphet.’

  ‘I don’t think so. I sent the files, lists, picture, the whole lot, to the man who’d contacted me. He passed them on to the police.’

  ‘And . . . ?’

  ‘Nothing. Ned carried on as before. Quite a while later, maybe about six months, we heard that he’d been badly beaten up. There was a rumour he’d been messing with children. Now he seems to have vanished. Just disappeared.’

  ‘I don’t care for that story,’ says Luna, as the fairground lights blur and streak, and the sky turns to wine. ‘I like a proper ending.’

  Tonight she is young and radiant. Gone the straight-backed old Victorian. This Luna is soft and young, with eyes that shine with pleasure in that exquisite face. She wears a green, clinging dress.

  ‘Tell me another story.’

  How did it begin, this telling of tales? Of course, with a paradox. For one so at home in cyberspace, Luna knows almost nothing of the net outside the Vortex. She refuses to log into any system that uses real names, because no-one must ever find out who she is. Luna has a particular horror of the internet, because she believes it would make her too easily traceable. Yet she has a thirst for stories of the cyber world. She waits, like a crab in an obscure tidal pool, to catch with her claws and examine any bits of flotsam and jetsam that may drift in with the tides.

  Luna has heard all my best net stories. About Professor Abian who states that time has inertia, wants to blow up the moon to get rid of the nuisance of tides, and reorganize the solar system. For years, as he did battle with the combined intellects of the sci.physics newsgroup, I was virtually his only ally. On my computer, in the directory next-door to my virus collection, are at least five hundred of his posts and emails, saved for posterity and signed:

  ABIAN MASS-TIME EQUIVALENCE FORMULA m = Mo(l-exp(T/(kT-Mo))) Abian units. ALTER EARTH’S ORBIT AND TILT – STOP GLOBAL DISASTERS AND EPIDEMICS. ALTER THE SOLAR SYSTEM. REORBIT VENUS INTO A NEAR EARTH-LIKE ORBIT TO CREATE A BORN AGAIN EARTH (1990)

  ‘ON JUDGEMENT DAY,’ proclaimed Abian, to howls from the ship of fools, ‘I WILL PUT THE WHOLE CREATION ON TRIAL.’

  ‘Magnificent,’ says Luna. ‘Every day should be judgement day.’

  I tell her about the man from Los Alamos who was hawking blueprints of atom bombs. About Hannu Poropudas whose five-year-old daughter had a vision from God that the universe is made of ‘space potatoes’. About how our work on Greennet led to being ticked off by Jeffrey Archer, and how he came to hear his song.

  He whirled into the Kurdish Cultural Centre and was received by a beaming committee of dignitaries and their wives, got up in their best, the men all scrubbed and shiny, bursting out of tight (“Stylish in Suleimaniya”) suits. The stout chairman resembled the mayor of a small Italian town. Archer was ready to leave when they announced there was to be a musical performance. They set a single chair for him in the middle of the empty hall. Nadhim drew up another beside him. The little Chairman pulled up a seat on the other side. Then they were all grabbing chairs. No-one wanted to be behind anyone else, so when Goran came onstage, clad peshmerga-style in a felt jacket with shoulder horns (for slinging rifles on), he found his audience facing him in one long, straggly row.

  ‘If you weren’t so ridiculously protective of your privacy, Luna, you could go and read about it on Greennet.’

  But the story Luna liked best was the romance of Morgan and Dreamdancer.

  ‘Shades-wed, not real life,’ she says. ‘I’m in favour of that idea. A Cyber-Sutran notion. It’s about the only thing I do approve of, Shades wise. They are such bad roleplayers. But please go on . . .’

  ‘Well, Morgan was delirious. He renamed his wizard’s room, which used to be Morgan & Calypso’s, to Morgan & Dreamy’s.’

  ‘That Calypso’s a case,’ says Luna. ‘Not interested in cyberlife. Using it to pull men for what dear Lily calls “a spot of eff2effing”.’

  ‘One day Morgan told me he was again selling stuff to raise money. Dreamy was in trouble. Apparently she owned a beauty salon in Cardiff. Morgan said – and very indignant he was – that the police were claiming it was a house of ill repute.’

  ‘Wonderful! Was it?’

  ‘Of course not. Well, not according to Morgan. He said the police were bent, looking for a bribe.’

  ‘You are inventing this.’

  ‘No. He said the salon had to close temporarily because of the trouble. The business ran into debt. Morgan baled her out. Even this wasn’t the end of it. The worry had made Dreamdancer ill with stomach pains. Stabbing, shooting. She went to her doctor. After a couple of weeks they told her she had an ulcer. Nasty. Anyway, the prognosis was bad and the only treatment expensive. Morgan was convinced that Dreamdancer was going to die. And she seemed to think so herself.’

  Luna looks sceptical. ‘Did it never occur to Morgan that there was anything unusual about her constant need for money?’

  ‘He was in love.’

  ‘But you weren’t, Bear. What did you think?’

  ‘I was deeply suspicious and asked who her consultant was. She eventually gave a name. I called the hospital. They said they didn’t do private treatment and they’d never heard of him.’

  ‘So you told Morgan?’

  ‘Actually, I never did.’

  ‘Why?’

  ‘What was the point? His money was already gone.’

  ‘Bear, is this another of your endingless stories?’

  ‘I am not sure. Yes. People’s stories don’t end until they die. She didn’t die. But I nearly did.’

  ‘That Calypso,’ says Luna slyly. In the waxy moonlight of the Vortex, she looks like a doll that has been enchanted to life.

  ‘Actually, there was an ending. By the time I returned to Shades, Dreamdancer was gone again and so was Morgan’s money. He had to hand over the keys to his flat and go to live with his mother.’

  ‘He must have felt so betrayed.’

  ‘Morgan is one of the best and kindest human beings in this eff2effing world,’ I tell her. ‘Morgan was as incapable of thinking a bad thought about Dreamdancer as you are incapable of thinking a good one.’

  She reaches out to press my hand. ‘So that was the end?’

  ‘No. Morgan told me, very sadly, that he was leaving Shades. He said that he was sorry he was no longer able to help Dreamy. Yes, she was once again in need of funds. She and her brother had leased a hotel suite in London. Morgan said it was connected with the brother’s work. The hotel had kicked them out for non-payment and accused the brother of living on immoral earnings. Morgan said to me, “It’s outrageous, Bear. I wish from the bottom of my heart I could help”. And then he urged me to lend her every penny I could spare.’

  The Cyber Sutra
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  May the angels and spirits that watch over the cyberverse, Teftin, Ariel, Hihaiah, Seere, enfold you in their wings of flame and darkness. May the emerald tablet glow for you. These are the sixty-four arts and sciences of love in the cyber world, which were taught in the mystery schools of the Vortex and other places: which teachings, the experience of beings and meta-beings from earliest cyberspacetime, passed on by word of mouth, were gathered together and written down by Merilyn at the dictation of Luna, servant of the goddess Qudsh, on the evening of ____, the full moon of Anoreth, Anno Vorticii 6723, the constellation of the Lovers hanging high above the observatory, while burning the incense of Aphrodite.

  §In cyberspace the real sex of your lover is not important.

  §Neither does your own real sex matter.

  §You may play either the male or the female role, as you freely choose. The same goes for your lover.

  §There is a third possibility, which you are not ready to hear.

  §There is a fourth possibility, but you would not believe it.

  §There is a fifth possibility.

  §In cyberspace everyone is equal.

  §We can’t see our partner’s hair, eyes, shape of nose, skin colour, whether fat or thin, or how they are dressed.

  §We can’t hear their voice, smell their perfume, breath, or feet.

  §Physical beauty and ugliness count for nothing. In cyberspace, everyone is as lovely or as ugly as they choose to be.

  §We can be whoever and whatever we choose.

  §In cyberspace, who are you? Not your eyes. Not your smile. Not your clothes. Not your accent. Not your shape. Not your name.

  §You are defined by your description and by your actions, all of which are expressed in words.

  §You must capture a living spirit in a cage of consonants and vowels. Learn to type.

  §Cyber characters are true living beings, with their own lives.

  §Your character is not just your own creation. It is created and constantly re-invented by you and your partner together.

  §Pleasure is always real. Pain is always real.

  §Newcomers to cyber lovemaking always begin by simulating the actions of physical lovers.

  §A man will play a man’s role, a woman a woman’s.

  §They perform imaginary acts that mimic physical lovemaking.

  §Their lovemaking follows the pattern of a physical love bout, opening with kisses, progressing to more passionate embraces.

  §They imagine themselves using positions and techniques like those of the Ars Amatoria and Kama Sutra of the face-to-face world.

  §Such newcomers often find themselves embarrassed by the strangeness of the cyber encounter.

  §They think that cyber sex is sharing a fantasy without physical contact. Like a dirty phone call.

  §They have no sense of timing. They rush through a series of fantasy actions as though ticking off a checklist. They are unsubtle.

  §This type of lovemaking, which is very unsatisfying, is known as the Congress of Tyros.

  §For the experienced lover there is no prescribed set of actions. The aim is to create and act out a story in which both find delight.

  §This may or may not involve simulation of physical sex.

  §In cyber lovemaking subtlety is everything. Express feelings clearly, but hint at actions. Use your imagination.

  §Be devious.

  §Pick up on your partner’s cues. If he/she drips oil onto your back, how does it feel? Is it scented? Are her/his fingers warm?

  §The way you describe the body and your actions is important. Think of new words, new phrases. Crudity and clichés kill passion.

  §Spelling mistakes are off-putting. They shatter the mood.

  §Let your terminology and language be guided by your lover’s responses. If you sense they are hesitant, change tack.

  §Think before you respond. Take time. Don’t be afraid of silence. Use pauses, short and long, as part of your communication.

  §Tease and withhold. A good roleplayer makes pleasure last.

  §Find an original way to express excitement and pleasure. Nothing is more absurd than cries of ‘O O O yes yes yes,’ like a German porn movie. The incoherence of orgasm may be expressed by {{{{^*fk{{{{, or high ASCii characters like äåÄùúûüóöõΩ‰∞.

  §The union of an experienced lover with a novice who is gauche, but eager to learn, is called the Congress of Lilith.

  §As cyber lovers gain experience, they discover the possibility of exploring love from other viewpoints.

  §A man may play a woman. A woman a man.

  §You may both choose to roleplay the same sex.

  §At first this can be uncomfortable. Persevere. Such roleplay is valuable for understanding partners in the face-to-face world.

  §With a suitable and willing partner, you may also safely try in cyberspace things you would never otherwise dare to do.

  §When both are keen to explore, there is no need for shame.

  §This is the Congress of Garbo.

  §Beyond this is a third possibility. Cyberspace has no either/or. There is no reason to be either male or female. Why not be both?

  §We simply imagine suitable cyberbodies for ourselves.

  §Physical pleasure is not the purpose of cyber love, whose joys are as sweet and as real, but of a different kind.

  §A11 love is in the mind.

  §The deepest pleasure comes from the imagination.

  §The lovemaking that arises out of such imaginings is known as the Congress of Caenorhabditis.

  §A fourth possibility appears. We give ourselves forms which in no way mimic physical bodies and our aim is to generate pleasures unknown in the physical world.

  §Let a mere look trigger delight as intense as that caused by touching the most sensitive spot of a physical body.

  §We imagine organs delicate as sea-anemones that touch erotic and delightful spots in each others’ minds, like fingers flying on the buttons of an accordion. This is the Congress of Pompadora.

  §The fifth and greatest possibility is that as cyberbeings we cease to need imagined bodies. We accept being no-bodies.

  §Cyber characters are living spirits.

  §The spirit indwells everything you are, say and do.

  §Beauty in cyberspace is the beauty of the spirit.

  §Love in cyberspace is communion of spirits.

  §During an encounter of this type, nothing sexual need be said or done, because everything you do or say expresses ‘I love you’.

  §This is the Congress of Luna and it is the highest of all the types of cyber lovemaking.

  C. elegans

  The old Indian authors recommended that lovers should mimic the mating of various animals. The texts, beginning with Kama Sutra, record sexual positions named dhenuka (the Cow), svanaka (the Dog), marjara (the Cat), aibha (the Elephant) and gardhaba (the Ass). I wonder what Vatsyayana would have made of Luna’s inclusion in the Cyber Sutra of the lovemaking of C. elegans (the Worm).

  Caenorhabditis elegans is a tiny nematode, growing no bigger than one millimetre long, about the length of a comma on this page. It lives all over the globe in its own world of the soil, burrowing through the leaf-rot, hunting bacteria. In short, C. elegans is about as primitive as an organism gets, yet it shares many essential biological characteristics with humans. Like us (but not like Luna who claims not to be human but a parthenogene – born, like Athene, of the mind – in her case the mind of the unknown being who is her ultimate coder), the worm is conceived as a single cell which undergoes a complex process of development, starting with embryonic cleavage, proceeding through morphogenesis and growth to the adult animal. It is, depending how you look at it, either of zero, or of almost limitless, economic importance to its not very distant cousin, H. sapiens sapiens, for yes, the two are closely related. A quick comparison shows that both possess a nervous system and a rudimentary brain, exhibit behaviour and are even capable of simple learning. Both produce sperm and eggs, mat
e and reproduce. After reproduction the lesser of the two gradually ages, loses its zest for living and finally perishes; thus embryogenesis, morphogenesis, development, nerve function, behaviour and ageing, most of the mysteries of modern biology, are demonstrated in this insignificant animal, and the same is true of C. elegans. (The fact that C. elegans is unable to work a computer keyboard compels us to assume that it does not share the greatest biological enigma of all, consciousness – although this piece of a priori non-logic remains to be demonstrated.) What appealed to Luna, in her search for life models capable of supple and unusual copulations, is that C. elegans comes in two interesting sexes, one a common or garden male, the other a self-fertilising hermaphrodite. The animal is, essentially, as essentially are we all, a tube containing two smaller tubes, one being the pharynx and gut, the other devoted to the reproductive system, which occupies most of the body space. The herm is a little brighter than the male, some three hundred of its nine hundred and fifty nine body cells being neurons. C. elegans possesses eighty-one muscle cells arranged in four bands that run the length of its body. By flexing and relaxing its muscles, the animal generates dorsal-ventral waves along the body, propelling itself along. The same rhythmic contractions enable C. elegans to make sweet slithery love, coiling and uncoiling, nestling its curving sines into the receptive cosines of its partner’s (or its own) body, breathlessly fastening, as do we all, orifice to orifice. Imagine a culture of writhing, wriggling nematodes, translucent, glowing as if lit from within. Were these the embraces that Luna visualised in her mind’s far-travelling eye?

  I watched the water-snakes:

  They moved in tracks of shining white,

  And when they reared, the elfish light

  Fell off in hoary flakes.