When a certain website featuring an orange-and-blue theme and a pretzel mascot closed down recently, a recurring theme became apparent to me during my conversations with others and in reading what people had to say about that closure. Many people said, in one form of words or another, that the Internet had changed, or that there was a piece suddenly missing. This got me thinking about how Internet users visualise a virtual world that feels very real to them and make it somehow tangible. At the pub, talking about this concept with a mate, I blurted out a name for the phenomenon: Internet geography.
And it’s true — any of us who have spent a decent amount of time on the Internet, and especially loitering around the blogosphere, know what it feels like when a site that holds significance to us (for negative or positive reasons) disappears. It’s like a hole opens up in our mental map of the tubescape, just like a building being demolished on the main street of our suburb. It’s important to separate this alteration to our mind map from any emotions we may feel about the site’s disappearance; acknowledgement of a change does not necessarily indicate fond sentimentality or sadness or even elation.
We don’t even need to know what a website looks like for it to feature in our geography. I have at least a dozen blogs in my RSS reader that I’ve not actually visited at in the past year, their existence only proven to me through a themeless data feed. I’ve completely forgotten what these blogs’ front pages look like but they still exist in my mind as actual places, complete with detailed and unique characteristics that, no matter how hard I try, I can’t quite put into words.
The cyberworld is a zero-dimensional place, existing as a stream of ones and zeros travelling near light speed down copper and fibre cables and manifesting itself as light on a two-dimensional screen. Yet the words we use to describe our use of the Internet are all based on three-dimensional movement: surf, navigate, go to, drop into, etc.
The way I see it, each Internet user builds in their mind a unique Internet geography based upon the sites that they know exist, the frequency at which they visit those sites, and the importance of that site to the user for whatever reason.This geography is highly dynamic, responding constantly to the user’s evolving use of the Internet and relationship to websites.
What do you reckon about this theory of Internet geography? Do you have a mental map of the Internet that reflects the way you use it? Do you think there are other things that contribute to this map? Have you had any particular experiences where a site’s closure has forced you to redraw your own Internet geography?