ICQ Goes Online (4,000 Words)

Redwood City, California, the headquarters of "Silicon Valley Online".

"All done." Harry placed a thick file on Tom Kalinske's desk, slumped into the sofa opposite him, his eyes sunken, but his expression extremely excited. "ICQ, and that 'pass' system, all completed."

He unscrewed a bottle of Coke and took a big gulp.

"The DEFCON friends I hired tried every trick in the book," Harry burped, then continued, "One guy even threatened to put my personal information on the BBS homepage in exchange for a year's worth of free pizzas if he could hack in. And now he's figuring out how to sell our system to a bank."

Tom Kalinske's eyes grew brighter as he flipped through the documents. The "Silicon Valley Online Passport" system architecture, personally named by Nakayama Takuya, had been polished into a fortress by Harry and the hackers he had hired.

"Well done, Harry. That kid Nakayama was right about you."

"Now, can we let this little darling out?" Harry rubbed his hands together, his face showing the fervor unique to geeks, the excitement of about to show off a new toy to the world.

Tom picked up the phone and dialed a number. "Get ready to go online. Let's show off our 'King's Seat,' which we've kept reserved for so long, to college students all over North America!"

Inside a male dormitory at Stanford University.

Philip skillfully dialed up to connect to the internet. After the harsh beeping of the connection, he effortlessly opened the "Silicon Valley Online" BBS.

The client.

As one of the earliest users, this BBS had become a part of his college life. Arguing with MIT students about the "best programming language" or discussing Quentin's latest movies with artsy New York University students in the movie section was much more interesting than going to boring fraternity parties.

However, today, the BBS's main interface is somewhat different.

For the first time, content appeared on the most prominent, previously blank, right side of the interface.

It wasn't a monotonous line of text, but a small, colorful animated icon—a green eight-petaled flower with three eye-catching letters next to it: ICQ.

Below is a smaller line of text: ISeekYou. Findyourfriendsonline

"Hey Matt, come quick!" Philip shouted to the person in the upper bunk, "There's something new on the BBS!"

The entire BBS exploded with discussion because of this small change.

"What's that? That little green flower?"

"ICQ? I'm looking for you?" Sounds like a dating app?

"Who cares," it's from Silicon Valley Online, it can't be bad! There's an FTP download link below, I've already started downloading! They even thoughtfully added a one-click copy button to the link."

This "King's Seat," which Tom jokingly called the "King's Seat," has existed since the BBS was first designed, but has never been open to any company.

Even in the "Industry" section, countless companies are racking their brains to get banned, but they can only follow the rules and obediently add the "[advertisement]" tag to their titles, getting lost in the endless stream of information.

Now, for the first time, this golden throne has been given to something completely new that no one has ever seen before.

This is not just about GG; it's a declaration.

At the same time, just like when they promoted BBS, a massive ground promotion army once again swept through major universities.

Part-time students wearing green floral T-shirts printed with "Silicon Valley Online" and ICQ, carrying flyers and posters, appeared at the entrance of the cafeteria, in front of the library, and downstairs in the dormitory.

Hey, try ICQ! It lets you chat with friends you found on BBS anytime, anywhere!

"This is way cooler than email! It's instant!"

Philip's mouse pointer moved without hesitation to the copy address button next to the FTP address 'b'.

"Matt, are you going to download it or not? This thing looks kind of interesting."

Matt, in the upper bunk, poked his head out, watching the download progress bar crawling on Philip's screen. "Download! Of course, download!" Even if something from Silicon Valley Online is a pile of shit, I have to taste it!

In the 1990s campus network environment, the download speed of this tens of megabytes of installation package was not fast, but neither of the two people in the dormitory felt impatient. Instead, it was as if they were waiting for the start of a grand feast.

The progress bar finally filled up, the installation process flashed by, and a small green eight-petaled flower icon lay quietly on Philip's desktop.

Double-click to open.

The interface was almost too clean, with only two input boxes for username and password, and two buttons below them: "Login" and "Register".

Philip clicked "Register," and a densely packed user agreement instantly popped up on the screen.

"Holy crap!" Matt jumped down from the top bunk and shoved the screen in front of it. "Philip, is this some kind of contract for you to sign? This is longer than my graduation thesis requirement!"

Philip didn't even look at it; he simply scrolled to the bottom with practiced ease and then clicked "Agree" without a second thought.

At this moment, users all over the world are possessed by my spirit.

The subsequent registration process, however, intrigued him.

In addition to setting a nickname, it also requires users to link an email address.

"Complete the binding by receiving a verification code via email." Philip read the prompt softly, then opened his email client.

Half a minute later, an email from "Silicon Valley Online" quietly appeared in my inbox.

Enter the verification code, set the password—the whole process was smooth and seamless.

"Done!"

A pop-up window appeared, displaying a line of numbers.

Congratulations, your ICQ number is: 9527

"9527?" Matt chuckled. "That number sounds a bit odd."

Philip ignored him and successfully logged in using the number and the password he had just set.

The main interface appeared.

The interface is shockingly rudimentary, with only two empty sections on the left: "Friends" and "Groups".

On the right is a large blank area, with only a "Refresh Messages" button and a main menu button at the top.

"That's it?" Matt scratched his head, looking confused. "What can this thing do?"

Philip frowned as well. He subconsciously clicked the "refresh messages" button, but nothing happened.

Wait for the message to refresh?

This design is exactly the same as the manual refresh mechanism in BBS clients!

A thought instantly pierced his mind.

This is not an isolated piece of software!

"Matt," Philip's voice was a little dry, "You see, it follows the same logic as BBS. But it's not like a public square like BBS; it's a point-to-point messenger!"

"How do I add you as a friend?" Matt still didn't understand.

Philip rummaged through the menu and quickly found the answer, "You need to enter the other party's ICQ number."

The two exchanged a glance.

They instantly understood the brilliance of the system's design.

Want to chat with your friends on ICQ and BBS? Sure. The prerequisite is that you need to know their ICQ number first.

How do you know?

Go back to the BBS and ask! Post a thread! Show off your number!

"I get it!" Philip slapped his thigh, his face beaming with fervent excitement. "Those bastards at Silicon Valley Online! They never intended to promote it themselves; they wanted us, all the users, to spread this stuff like a virus throughout the entire BBS!"

He practically pounced on the keyboard, his fingers flying across the keyboard as he quickly switched back to the BBS client and typed out a brand new post title in the Stanford University forum.

My ICQ number is 9527! Add me if you dare! The first person to add me, I'll treat them to a week's worth of Coke!

Philip's post was like a pebble thrown into a calm lake, instantly creating ripples across Stanford's online forum.

[9527? This number sounds like a prisoner's number.]

[Is the poster a devil? They even risked a week's supply of Coke just to trick us into downloading? Give me the link, I'm coming!]

Matt peeked out from the top bunk and said, "Philip, quick, add my number too! My number is 9533! Tell them the second person to add me, I'll buy them half a week's worth of Coke!"

"You're so stingy," Philip said sarcastically, but his hands didn't stop.

He didn't bother looking for any user manual; instead, he instinctively clicked on the lonely "Friends" section on the left side of the main interface, where there was a small plus button above it.

A simple input box pops up, prompting you to enter the other party's ICQ number.

"9533, right?"

"Right!"

Philip entered the number and clicked OK.

After Matt clicked the "Refresh Messages" button, the little green flower on Matt's computer screen began to flash wildly and emit a crisp "Ooh!" notification sound.

[User 9527 has requested to add you as a friend.]

Matt hurriedly clicked "Agree".

Philip's screen refreshed instantly, and the number "9533" appeared in his friend list. He double-clicked the number, and a dialog box popped up.

He typed a line of text and pressed Enter.

[Hello World.]

After Matt refreshed the message, this line immediately popped up in the chat box.

"My God!" Matt exclaimed, "This is a hundred times faster than sending an email!"

He quickly replied, "[Are you really going to buy me Coke for a week?]"

Philip stared at the newly refreshed message on the screen, a grin spreading across his face as his fingers clattered across the keyboard: [Dream on.]

Just then, he noticed a button labeled "FaceWord" above the input box. What was that? He clicked it out of curiosity.

[:-]

A strange string of characters was sent out.

"What the hell did you send?" Matt shouted from above.

But before he could finish speaking, his tone changed completely. "Wow! Philip! Look! The string of characters you sent has turned into a smiley face on my end!"

Philip was taken aback, and quickly asked Matt to send one as well.

After he clicked the "Refresh Messages" button, a vivid yellow smiley face made of simple lines appeared on his screen.

"Cool!"

The two boys instantly found new fun, like Columbus discovering a new continent, trying out all the emojis in "FaceWord". Crying faces, funny faces, angry faces, surprised faces - the small chat box was filled with all kinds of emojis, and the dormitory was filled with a happy atmosphere.

"Whoa!"

The notification tone sounded again.

Philip's little green flowers are shimmering again.

[User 10125 has requested to add you as a friend.]

[Additional information: Hey buddy, I'm from MIT, Coke ready?]

"Oh! Shit! So fast!" Philip's heart skipped a beat, and an indescribable sense of excitement rushed to his head.

It worked! Viral marketing worked!

He accepted the friend requests, watching his friend list grow from one to two, then three, then four—the notification sounds echoing throughout the dorm room, like he was going crazy.

After the fun and games, a real problem arose.

"Philip, we've talked so much, where are all these records stored?" Matt calmed down. "My hard drive doesn't have much space left."

This question gave Philip a sudden realization. He then remembered to look for the user manual in the main menu.

He read the densely packed English terms with extra care this time.

"I see—" Philip muttered to himself.

ICQ messages are only stored on the server for one month; once a user downloads them locally, the server deletes them after 24 hours.

It leaves both the right and responsibility for storage to the user.

"Look here," Philip pointed to the screen for Matt, "You can set your own local storage limit, and choose which people's chat logs to keep, and for how long—these guys are using up all the computer's precious resources."

In the days when hard drives were priced by the MB, this feature was incredibly thoughtful.

"There's a group function too!" Philip's eyes lit up with excitement. "Create three groups for free, each with a limit of one hundred people!"

He barely hesitated before creating a group, named "[Cola Challengers Alliance]".

He posted the group number in a BBS post.

[Group number 1414, anyone who wants a Coke, come join!]

The next second, the number of people in the group member list began to scroll upwards at a visible speed.

5...17...38...

As he watched IDs from universities across the United States pop up one by one, excitedly spamming "Helo" in the group chat, Philip leaned back in his chair and let out a long sigh of relief.

He knew that an era of instant messaging had been ushered in ahead of time by this little green flower. And he was one of the first to witness it.

The headquarters of "Silicon Valley Online" during the first 24 hours after ICQ's launch.

The newly appointed CEO, Frank Marshall, was the one Tom poached from Apple. Dressed in a well-tailored business casual suit, he sat at the head of the conference room, holding a cup of coffee that had long since gone cold, calmly surveying everything before him.

Harry and his team looked like they were nailed to the data monitoring console, their eyes sunken, their faces oily, but their spirits were frighteningly high.

"We've surpassed five thousand registrations," Harry announced hoarsely, a hint of uncertainty in his voice that he himself didn't realize.

This number is good, but far from amazing.

Frank Marshall put down his coffee cup, the bottom clinking softly against the table, sending a shiver down everyone's spine. "Harry, given our server and bandwidth investment, this growth rate is only 'healthy'." His words were polite, but the meaning was clear: it wasn't enough.

"Wait a little longer, Frank." Tom Kalinske leaned against the doorframe, arms crossed, appearing more composed than anyone else. "ICQ isn't a one-off deal; it's a social virus, and viruses take time to spread. People need to download it first, then show off their numbers on BBS forums, and then find friends. This chain takes time to run."

Frank didn't refute, but simply nodded, his gaze returning to the gently rising curve on the big screen, instructing the operations team to expand the server capacity according to the established plan.