When I grow up, I want to work at Google. My dream job would be to work with the group that comes up with those clever animations that turn into the shape of whatever date or memorial they choose. Google Doodles, they call them. I don't think I would enjoy being one of the overworked minions rushing about in the library looking up obscure facts in the fractions of a second that is demanded by those users seeking their information as fast as Google will take them to it.
There are, of course, other search engines. Once upon a long time ago, I signed up to get a mail account with Yahoo, because it was where I found myself going when I needed to know Barbie's full name. It added to my feeling that I would someday know everything, but until that time I would fill those holes in my worldly acumen with the wisdom of Yahoo. As it turns out, Google was the horse I should have bet on this particular track. As I watch the rats fleeing this sinking cyber-ship, I feel a little ashamed for any grief I might once have given my mother for holding on to her America OnLine address. My own Internet mailbox now has that faint odor of death about it.
But moving is so hard. Carrying all those addresses and links from one address to another is so incredibly time consuming, especially in a world that works on tenths of a second. This is why I live at Yahoo, but I find myself wandering down the street to that happy little neighborhood where the letters dance and sing, and I can find Space Mountain on their maps. And someday, maybe I'll get paid to animate a tribute to the End of the Middle Ages. But first I'll have to work on my resume.