1996. Eleven years old. In bed by 10pm, but after my mom fell asleep I would creep downstairs in my purple fleece pyjamas, turn on the computer, and get online. What was I even doing online then? I can barely remember. Whatever it was, it was much more enticing than being well-rested. Of course she figured out what I was doing, and started leaving the phone in her bedroom off the hook to catch me with the dial up ksshhhh. No problem: slowly, gently, silently open her door, army crawl in, and unplug the cord from the jack (I even built a tool to extend my reach, just in case there was anything I couldn’t see in the way). She started taking the mouse from the computer every night, I learned the wonders of keyboard navigation. You can do a lot with the tab key and some time. I was found out again, and she took the keyboard. That was more of a pickle, until I unearthed a forgotten spare from the basement. That worked for a while. Even though the space bar was broken, I could make it work, and got online again.

Then she took the monitor.