‘Kunz’ was a regular in an internet chat-room. Anonymous as was everybody else and every bit as likely to be playing a role. With so many world wide seeking their life companion on the internet it is hardly surprising that this matter should come in for some intense chat-room discussion. Could one truly find love on the net?
From this discussion emerged a problem that many were having. The seeming impossibility of finding anyone of real value not just on the net but anywhere else for that matter. The bigger the city, the more people, the harder it seemed to be. How was it that some people could go through a number of marriages while others were unable to get to first base even once? Those looking for commitment rather than sex saw the easy and casual liaisons of these others as highlighting their own lack of attractiveness.
It emerged that the suggestions of Kunz had an unusual authority and, although insisting otherwise, it was clear that Kunz not only had qualifications in the social sciences but a real understanding of what made people tick. It came to be that Kunz’ advice was increasingly sought on wider social issues as well. Too much so for a chat room.
The result of this traffic was the ‘ullrichkunz.com’ website for by then it had become known that Kunz was a Dr. Ullrich Kunz although Kunz denied being such. No-one knew where this blowing- of-cover had come from. It seemed to have just self-generated in the rich broth of the internet. The ‘ullrichkunz’ website would always proclaim that ‘‘There is no Dr. Ullrich Kunz.’
The site could offer no discussion but produced a weekly letter in response to one, or at the most two, of the wider-interest queries addressed to it the previous week. It was a letter that growing numbers found helpful. It published success stories too. Those of ‘maxxx’ and ’tecksus’ are typical.
maxxx had been a gym junkie and a clothes-horse thinking that these must make him desirable. It was a mind-set where women were rated by the tape measure. But ‘ullrichkunz’ had pointed out that breast implants, injections of collagen and Botox, or liposuction, did not make a woman a better
AN ACKNOWLEDGED EXPERT. Page 2 SOSIAN wife unless it was as a trophy-wife and suggested that being a trophy-wife was not a happy position even if one did manage to hook a millionaire.
Then pointing in maxxx’s direction, ‘Nor do six-pack abs make a man a better husband. Body building, hair implants, cosmetic surgery, or an expensive wardrobe,’ it said, ‘do not make a man a better person. These are as superficial as a smart pick-up line.’ It had continued, ‘By all means take care of your appearance and personal hygiene but work also to build and beautify the inner person where your real worth lies. Do this and some wise woman is going to grab you.’
That had made sense as had ‘ullrichkunz’s’ constant admonition to ‘widen out.’ maxxx had been ready to try anything by then. He had begun to take notice of the others in his apartment block. This after living there for years. They were mostly older married couples with not a young single woman among them. He had cultivated them where possible, been helpful where he could. He had become particularly close to an older couple on the floor above.
They had invited him to dinner not telling him that they had invited their granddaughter from across town and it was immediately clear that the poor girl had also not been told that he would be present. It was such obvious match-making and so embarrassing for her. And when the couple suddenly remembered that they had forgotten something and needed to pop out to the nearby 7-11 it was a clumsy ploy to leave them alone.
Phoebe, for that was her name, shamed and angry, had made abject apology almost before the door was closed. Yes, she had given up hope of ever meeting anyone but she would never have agreed to this and maxxx found himself jumping to the defence of her grandparents. They had meant well. And anyway, maybe he should be the one apologising. He was doing no better himself…fast losing belief in himself…and her grandparents knew it.
This mutual admission of inadequacy and the hurt that went with it was all that was needed to breach their defences. It had left them open to each other and allies. What they found had impressed them both. Phoebe had recently become Mrs. maxxx.
tecksus had thought that she had tried everything. Singles’ bars, singles’ night at supermarkets, newpaper ads, even speed dating. She had paid good money to a dating agency and been disappointed. There were any number of men eager to jump into bed with her but nothing beyond that, no commitment.
She was another who had taken note of the ‘widen out’ and had decided to turn her back on the singles’ scene which wasn’t working anyway. She would try to be generally friendly. See how that worked. But it was not easy in the windy city. Chicagoans seemed to be much too busy to speak to strangers but she had persisted. If a man’s white hair made him look particularly distinguished, she would stop him and tell him so. If a woman’s hair colour, dress colour, dress style, whatever, was apt and pleasing she made a point of telling her. Women needed to know these things. She would never meet these people again but it was a gift that she could give them. Occasionally, her Texas accent led to conversations but only occasionally.
Then one day, waiting for the lights at a crosswalk, she had been intrigued by the dress of an older woman standing next to her. If it wasn’t specially designed for her then it should have been. It did so much for her and by this time tecksus could speak to anyone.
“Where did you get that dress?” she had asked. She didn’t say, “That beautiful dress.” Her tone of voice expressed that perfectly. But the lights changed and they were crossing with tecksus hurrying to stay close.
“My son’s a designer. Just starting. My daughter and I are dressmakers. Sorry can’t stop. Here’s my card.”And reaching the far sidewalk, she had hurried off.
Several days later, curiousity had led tecksus to the address on the card. It was a door at the bottom of a stairway facing onto one of the lesser streets. “Martha Bryant Dressmaker’ a sign announced and below it another sign, much newer, indicated the presence of ‘Robert Bryant Designer.”It had occurred to her that it would be wonderful for just once in her life to have a dress
AN ACKNOWLEDGED EXPERT. Page 4 SOSIAN designed for her alone. It might be expensive but it would be worth every cent as a morale booster. Perhaps the price here would be within her reach.
She had climbed the stairs and rung the bell on the desk in the small area above. A young woman came through from the room beyond. tecksus had felt an immediate liking for her. She was clearly the daughter. The relationship was unmistakable.
“I met your mother the other day and was intrigued by her lovely dress. She told me that your brother was the designer. I was wondering what it would cost to have something designed for me.”
“MOM,” the young woman had called and her mother came out. She had recognised tecksus immediately.
“Come through my dear,” she had said as though the aquaintanceship was of long standing. Then, “I didn’t get your name dear.”
“It’s Joan. Joan Clements.”
The workroom was cramped and there appeared to be plenty of work on hand. Bridal work. The son, Robert, was busy making sketches on a large drawing board, completely absorbed. He was quite a dish.
“We have to send him out for a walk when we’re doing fittings. Robert,” she had called. ‘ROBERT,” a bit louder, and he had looked up at them.
“Robert. This Joan Clements.”
“Hi,” he had said without apparent interest and had turned straight back to his drawing board.
Not a very prepossessing start but ‘Mom’ had noted the naked left hand and was already imagining the dress that tecksus would wear when she married Robert.
It was easy for even those with limited computer skills to discover that ullrichkunz.com was registered to a Martin Smith but his city had any number of Martin Smiths. Those with greater skill traced the website to the server of Grant Prosthetics.
Grant Prosthetics is an old firm established in the days when wood, metal, and natural rubber were the materials of artificial limbs. Its founder Calvin Grant, long dead, was an innovator. The firm is under contract to a number of hospitals and has a national reputation for its work with child accident victims. Its services go beyond the making and fitting of prosthetics. Rehabilitation is always more than physical. Wholeness, the necessary acceptance of limitations while reaching beyond them, is a function of the mind and the firm has a psychologist on its staff. It was assumed that this man was ullrichkunz.com.
Although there were some half-a-world-away who knew that Dr. Ullrich Kunz belonged to a firm called Grant Prosthetics, the firm itself was never to know this. An indication might have been given by the noticeable slowing of the internal computer network. It had been a gradual process and had been put down to aging equipment. But the point came where an upgrade seemed imperative and the experts were called in.They found that the system’s server should still have been adequate for the job but that its resources were being almost entirely utilised by internet traffic. It was thought at first that the server had, in effect, been taken captive and its facilities used by outside interests.
“It wouldn’t be my web page would it?” Cherry Marshall had asked early on but the idea was discounted as ridiculous.
Cherry, an African American, twice widowed and a little on the large side, occupies the small flat on the roof that once housed Calvin Grant himself. She is in affect the janitor although preferring to call herself the housekeeper. House-proud she is and endlessly helpful too. She works with and organises the cleaning women who come in each morning to do the public areas. Like her, they attend the nearby Baptist Church and two, Daisy and Ethel, are her particular friends. These three are Dr. Ullrich Kunz and formulate their responses over coffee and jelly donuts. The Kunz comes from ‘coons’ the old derogatory term for African Americans. It is in a sense a private joke, their challenge to the world. These are three women who are not to be put down by names. The Dr.
AN ACKNOWLEDGED EXPERT. Page 6 SOSIAN Ullrich part was wished on them.
Martin Smith, the official owner of ullrichkunz.com, is Cherry’s nephew and one of those who lives for computers. She rang and put the question to him.
“It wouldn’t be my web page would it? This trouble they’re having?”
Unfortunately, it almost certainly was. His aunt’s computer accessed the internet through the buildings internal network and he had put her on the server without permission never thinking that she would receive enough hits to be noticed. As installed, she could be readily accessed from outside but internally was not to be found even by someone with system-administrator status if they didn’t have Cherry’s password.
The experts were still poking around when the problem simply disappeared. They credited themselves with the repairs, and charged accordingly, even though they had no idea how they had done it. The truth! The greater part of ullrichkunz had been quietly transferred elsewhere. It now resided on a computer in Martin’s apartment. It was a system lashed up from other people’s cast-offs but, for the moment, it was adequate for the job.
And, with everything close at hand, Martin began to make site improvements. The questions and their answers had been archived and were now catalogued by subject and made available to anyone seeking help on the internet. The opportunity was also given to receive the weekly E-mail letter automatically.
Next, with the free ride gone, the problem of running costs and more reliable equipment had to be addressed and the only way was to sell advertising. It has to be admitted thar he recognised the opportunity to recoup more than costs.The large number of hits on the site was as useful to advertisers as a high Neilson rating on television and it had to be global advertising because site access was global.
The three kunz were initially unhappy with this development but there have since come to be foreign-language mirror sites. These are run as franchises with their own regional advertising.
Cherry has never got over seeing Dr. Ullrich Kunz being quoted in print as an acknowledged expert on social relationships.
“For heavens sake!” she says, “It’s only common sense.”
The kunz now have money although they have little use for it. They have long been comfortable with having little or none. It goes mainly to their church and to their offspring. Cherry’s scattered and extended family, while wondering at her sudden access to wealth, have continued to suggest that she take a world trip. But, “No!” she tells them. “It’s all been on television. The whole world! There’s nothing left to see!” Her real reason is not stated.
While ever young children insist that Nanny Cherry be present for their fittings, the best place in this world will be Grant Prosthetics.