Ghosts in the Wires
The dial-up modem shrieked.
It was a sound Kaizer hadn't heard in decades, a nails-on-a-chalkboard symphony of static, whistles, and beeps that clawed its way out of the beige plastic box connected to his clunky computer. He sat hunched in his desk chair, the glow of the CRT monitor illuminating his young face, watching the connection status crawl across the screen at speeds that felt glacially slow. 28.8kbps. He remembered gigabit speeds, instant access, a world of information available with a thought. This felt like trying to sip the ocean through a coffee stirrer.
His mission: Operation Find-A-Cue-And-Cash. His battlefield: The nascent digital frontier of 1995. His weapon: A Packard Bell computer that probably had less processing power than the smartwatches he remembered people wearing.
His fingers, accustomed to the sleek, low-profile keyboards of the future, felt clumsy on the chunky, cream-coloured keys. He'd spent the previous evening after his recon trip to Rack 'em Up researching – not online, but through old computer magazines Mark Jessop had inexplicably kept stacked in his garage. He'd jotted down phone numbers for local Bulletin Board Systems (BBSes) – those pre-internet online communities hosted on individual computers, accessible only by dialing directly into them. It was arcane, decentralized, and utterly inefficient by future standards, but it was the only digital avenue available.
Finally, the screeching subsided, replaced by a triumphant (if slightly pathetic) BEEP-BOOP. Connected. He launched the terminal emulation software, a stark blue screen with blocky white text appearing. He typed in the phone number for a BBS called 'The Phreak Zone', rumoured to have various tech and hobbyist sub-forums.
CONNECTING...
ATDT [Phone Number]
CONNECTED at 28800 bps
Welcome to The Phreak Zone! SysOp: Captain Crash
Please enter your handle:
Handle. His online identity. He couldn't use 'Kaizer' or 'Saint' – too traceable, potentially. He needed something anonymous but hinting at his expertise. Something that spoke of precision, of unseen angles, of the almost supernatural element he brought to the table. After a moment's thought, he typed:
GhostCue
Welcome, GhostCue! This is your first login.
Please enter a password:
He typed one in, something complex enough even by his future standards, unlikely to be guessed by 1995-era hackers.
Password accepted. Welcome to the main board!
A menu appeared, text-based options listing different forums: Warez, Phreaking, ANSI Art, Games, Classifieds, Hobbies... He navigated using the arrow keys, the screen refreshing line by agonizing line. He found 'Hobbies' and within it, a sub-forum simply titled 'Billiards'. Bingo.
He entered the Billiards forum. It was sparsely populated compared to the bustling online communities he remembered, but it was active. Thread titles scrolled slowly: 'Break Technique Debate', 'Anyone tried the new Predator shaft?', 'Tips for improving bank shots?', 'FS: Used McDermott Cue'.
His eyes latched onto the 'For Sale' thread. Used McDermott. McDermott cues were solid, respectable mid-range cues in his time. Depending on the model and condition, it could be a significant upgrade. He opened the thread.
Handle: PoolShark88
Date: 09/15/95
Subject: FS: Used McDermott Cue
Selling my old McDermott D-series, maybe D-17? Maple, sneaky pete style, good condition, straight shaft, maybe 19oz. Served me well but got an upgrade. Asking $150 OBO. Local pickup preferred (North Jersey area). Message me if interested.
One hundred fifty dollars. Still double what he needed for his target cue at Rack 'em Up, and significantly more than the $0 currently residing in his pocket. Plus, 'North Jersey' was vague, potentially hours away. He mentally bookmarked it – a possibility, but not ideal. He needed cheaper, or closer, or both. Or income.
He backed out and scrolled through the discussion threads. People were arguing about the merits of english versus center-ball aiming systems, debating the optimal nine-ball break pattern, complaining about inconsistent table conditions. Much of it was rudimentary, stuff he'd mastered before most of these users were born (the first time around). But tucked within the chatter were genuine questions, moments of frustration where players hit roadblocks.
One thread caught his eye: 'Help! Stuck on cross-side banks!' The original poster, 'CueBallWizard', described consistently overcutting cross-side bank shots, asking for aiming tips or drills. Several replies offered generic advice – aim thicker, check your stroke, practice more. None addressed the underlying physics or the subtle adjustments required.
Here was an opportunity. Not to make money directly, maybe, but to establish 'GhostCue' as knowledgeable. To build credibility. If people started seeing his handle associated with insightful advice, maybe someone would eventually be willing to pay for personalized coaching tips or analysis via message.
He hit 'R' to reply, the cursor blinking patiently. He paused, composing his response carefully. He couldn't sound arrogant or condescending. He needed to be helpful, precise, and offer something beyond the obvious.
Handle: GhostCue
Date: 09/28/95
Subject: Re: Help! Stuck on cross-side banks!
@CueBallWizard, common issue. Overcutting often comes from hitting the bank too 'full' due to compensating for perceived angle loss, or unintentional side spin.
Couple things to consider beyond standard aiming systems:
1. Induced Spin: Hitting the object ball slightly off-center, even unintentionally, imparts spin that affects the rebound angle off the cushion. Focus on a dead-center hit on the OB unless intentionally using spin.
2. Cushion Compression: Different cushions compress differently. Softer cushions 'grab' the ball more, shortening the rebound angle. Harder cushions cause less angle loss. Factor this into your aim point on the rail. It's not just geometry; it's physics.
3. Speed Control: Hitting banks too hard increases skid and can make the rebound angle unpredictable. Try practicing the shot at different speeds – often a softer touch provides a truer roll off the cushion.
4. Aiming Refinement: Instead of just aiming at a diamond or spot, visualize the *contact point* of the OB on the cushion and the *path* it needs to take *after* contact. Sometimes aiming slightly 'longer' on the rail (further from the pocket) than standard geometric aiming systems suggest can compensate for the factors above, especially on faster tables.
Try focusing *only* on center-ball hits with varying speeds first. See how the rebound changes. Then re-introduce your aiming system. Hope this helps.
He read it over. It was concise, technical but hopefully understandable, and offered actionable insights beyond 'practice more'. It hinted at a deeper understanding without revealing the impossible source of that knowledge. He sent the message, watching the text crawl onto the public forum.
Now what? Wait. BBSes weren't instant messaging. Users dialed in periodically, read messages, replied, logged off. It could be hours, even days, before CueBallWizard or anyone else saw his post and responded.
He explored other threads, finding a debate about the ethics of sharking (a topic he had complex, firsthand knowledge of) and another discussing the upcoming pro tourney schedule. He spent nearly an hour navigating the clunky interface, absorbing the atmosphere of this proto-internet community. He found another BBS dedicated purely to pool and billiards, 'The 8-Ball Corner', and went through the registration process again under the GhostCue handle. More forums, more classifieds, more discussions. He found another cue for sale – a basic Adams, maybe $50, but located in Pennsylvania. Too far.
He posted his bank shot advice on 'The 8-Ball Corner' as well, slightly reworded. Casting a wider net. He also scanned 'Want To Buy' sections, hoping someone might be looking for an older, cheaper cue he could potentially find locally and flip, but found nothing promising.
The process was laborious, frustratingly slow. Finding information felt like panning for gold in a muddy stream. Yet, there was a thrill to it, too. The thrill of the hunt, the potential hidden nugget of information or opportunity lurking behind the next text-based menu.
He checked his private messages on both BBSes. Nothing yet. Unsurprising.
He glanced at the clock on the computer screen. He'd been online for over ninety minutes. That was ninety minutes of tying up the phone line – a cardinal sin in a one-phone-line household in 1995. If his mom or dad tried to make a call, they'd get a busy signal, leading to questions he didn't want to answer.
Reluctantly, he typed the command to log off.
Goodbye, GhostCue! You have been connected for 93 minutes.
NO CARRIER
The connection dropped, silence returning to the room, broken only by the hum of the computer tower. He leaned back in his chair, rubbing his eyes. It felt like he'd accomplished very little, yet the seeds were sown. 'GhostCue' now existed in the digital ether. He'd offered value, hoping it might lead to recognition, maybe even an opportunity.
He needed $105. $25 for the tournament entry, $80 for the cue at Mel's. Over two weeks to get it. His BBS foray felt like a long shot. Could he really generate cash or find a suitable cue this way in time?
The alternative loomed: Benny's garage. Fast cash, high risk. Playing kids for ten bucks a game. It felt dirty now, tainted by the memory of where that path had led him before. But if the digital well remained dry... desperation might force his hand.
He thought about Jesse Riley, the son of his old rival, Dave. Mel's words echoed: "Kid's got talent. Real talent." Kaizer couldn't walk into that tournament under-equipped and rusty. His mind might be sharp, his knowledge vast, but his young body still needed refinement, practice with a consistent cue. Winning wasn't just about the money or the trophy; it was about proving, perhaps mostly to himself, that this second chance wasn't going to be squandered. It was about laying the foundation for a different legacy.
He stood up, stretching the kinks out of his young back. The path forward was murky, fraught with technological limitations and financial hurdles. But for the first time since waking up in this bewildering past, he had a tangible goal (the tournament) and a strategy, however tenuous, to achieve it. He just needed the ghosts in the wires to deliver.