I flit along the old channels of my life, checking up on friends and colleagues, then I slide out unnoticed.

THE GHOST IN THE MACHINE I have never been that interested in ghosts. I have never played with a Ouija board. Halloween bores me. As a child, I thought Casper was a jerk. If questioned, I didn't deny the possibility that ghosts existed, but I didn't see how such a possibility concerned me. Then I became one. Last spring I graduated from UC Davis and moved east to a new job and a new life. I left behind my slovenly graduate-student self and became a worker, someone who follows a regular schedule and gets paid a salary. My new self wears ties and irons clothes. One morning I sat in my office thinking up ways to avoid doing the tasks I was being paid to do. (My new self procrastinates as much as my old self.) I decided to try to log on to my old UC Davis e-mail account. I had been told that it would be closed within 90 days of graduation, but college taught me to be skeptical about such announcements. I gave the necessary commands, the modern incantations that manipulate the mysterious magic of modern technology. Not only was my account there, it was active. I had hundreds of messages. Even as I had started a new life, my old one had continued. Physically I had left Davis; electronically I remained. Some people had not realized I was gone. Others, procrastinators themselves, had kept my old account in their electronic address books and sent me their mass mailings. I had neglected to "sign off" various professional lists and so regularly received postings from them. I was also still on the department's mailing list and received everyone's memos, requests and announcements. At first I intended to tell everyone to delete my UC Davis electronic address, but I put off the task. Now, months later, I continue to log on to my old account at least once a week. I'm familiar with the latest departmental issues. I know who will be visiting campus, who is giving a presentation, who has recently won an award and who needs a pet-sitter. I flit along the old channels of my life, checking up on friends and colleagues, then I slide out unnoticed. I am a ghost in the machine. When I talk to friends on the phone they are surprised (and sometimes annoyed) at how much I know. "Who told you that?" they ask. I play coy. I realize that I'm missing an opportunity to impress. There seems to be a certain cachet to having multiple e-mail addresses. People frequently say, "You can e-mail me at any of these places. I check them all regularly." This puzzles me. Since there is no advantage in having more than one--unlike a phone number these will never be busy and one is no cheaper than another--it must be a matter of prestige. Years ago, a professor told me that people's clout on campus could be evaluated by the number of offices they had. Perhaps in our age, e-mail addresses function the same way. They are "virtual" offices, symbols of power. Or perhaps because e-mail is suspiciously egalitarian--almost anyone can have an account and they have no distinguishing characteristics like a 90210 zip code--quantity becomes a defining factor. It shows how "connected" a person is. Yet to be an unknown presence is also satisfying. Although there is little prestige, there is power in anonymity. But I don't think that I keep the account solely because of the thrill of electronic lurking. In part, I suspect that I find it comforting to stay connected to the familiar. As I make the shift to a new environment and new life, I can stay updated on the old one. I do use the account to send messages. To myself. I forward mail from my old account to my new one. I write myself messages both ways. Some may see this as a case of split personality or an attempt to connect my new self with my old one. I think I do it because I can. I'm fascinated with this technology, and the ability to roam the country from my office gives me a charge. It's fun to be a ghost. Plus, it beats working. When I left Davis, I became the dearly departed (or at least the departed), and now I can return, unseen, unheard, unnoticed, the ghost in the machine. -- "ghost@ucdavis.edu"