If it hadn’t been for the sunglasses, I might have recognized him earlier. But my door was already open when I realized I was face to face with Norman.

You remember Norman, don’t you? President, VP of Sales, Head Programmer, and sole beta tester for PopSoft Software?

"Hi, Lincoln," he said, boldly stepping into my home. "I thought I’d drop by and say ‘hi’ on my way to go buy some Apple stock. Don’t you just love a corporate takeover?"

"Well, I’m more of the violent assassination type--especially with neighbors."

Yeah, those roll-playing games can be a lot of fun."

"Speaking of which--shouldn’t you be running out to buy Apple before Larry Ellison beats you to it?"

"Larry Ellison? Doesn’t he write science fiction? I thought my main competition was from Oracle. Anyway, the main reason I popped over was to show you our exciting new Web site, http//www.thisdomainnameisshortandeveneasiertotypethantheotherone.com. I was going to call it http//www.thisdomainnameiseasytotype.com, but someone already had that."

"Norman, I think Apple’s stock price is going up as we speak."

"Great! Shows you what a good investment it is. Let me show you how the site works."

He barged past me into my home office, where he sat down at my computer, launched my browser, entered my password, and logged onto his Web site.

"Hey, what are you doing?" I objected.

He spun around in my chair and looked at me apologetically. "I’m sorry. I sometimes get carried away and forget how to treat the press." He pulled a black cord out of a pouch hanging from his belt. "Want some licorice?"

"How did you log on as me?" I asked.

He smiled broadly. "Isn’t it wonderful what the Net lets you do?"

By now his site was up, all bright colors and animated .GIFs. "The purpose of Thisdomain.com--that’s what we’re calling the site for short--is to let you find out any information about anyone. For instance, if I type in the name ‘Lincoln Spector’…"

"What about a name like ‘John Smith?’" I asked.

He considered that for a moment, typed in the name, and waited for a response. "Do you mean the John Smith on 12th St. in Denver who’s $10,000 in debt, or the one in New Jersey who works for the Post Office and is partial to movies with exploding nuns. Hey, there’s one in Kansas City who likes to dress up as a…

"You know," he said, interrupting himself, "this is kind of confusing. So many John Smiths. But there’s only one Lincoln Spector." He typed in my name and brought up a huge collection of facts.

I looked at the screen in amazement. "How did you get all this stuff on me?"

"Simple. We poll the Web, intercept your email, buy bank records, and collect every mailing list in the world. So, Lincoln, what kept bringing you back to alt.binaries.pictures.erotica.bondage.us.senators?"

"I was researching an article on new ways to finance campaigns."

"Hmm--must have missed that one. Let’s see what kind of books you read. Not many classics on this list," he added disapprovingly.

"Norman, I thought you were on your way to buy Apple."

"You know, Lincoln, you really need to get your oil changed more often. All those little trips around town just wear a car out."

"Norman…"

"You don’t get out much, do you?"

"Norman, who’s going to use this site?"

"Lots of people. Let’s say you want to market prosthetic devices for elderly cats."

"Why should I want to say a thing like that?"

"Okay, maybe you wouldn’t, but…" he tapped a few keys and waited for the result…"Henrietta Furd of San Juan, Maine would. All she need do is get a list of everyone in the country who’s been buying cat food for ten or more years, and she’s bound to find the owners of a few old cats. It’s a great way to find your potential market."

"And you think it will work?"

"I just found Ms. Furd, didn’t I? Now all I need do is link over to the HyperHarass page and I can set up Thisdomain.com to email her every 15 minutes until she gives in."

"How will you make money off of this?" I asked. "Do you plan to charge people to use this site."

"Of course not. No one pays for Web site access. I mean, why pay to get on the Wall Street Journal site when you can get Fred Duffmeyer’s Bottle Cap Collection for free?"

"Then how will you make money?"

"Oh, that’s easy. People will pay me to keep their names off of the site. You don’t see me on there anywhere, do you?"

"Norman, will you get out of my house?"

"Well, technically, Lincoln, it isn’t your house. The Third National Bank still owns 68 percent of it. Speaking of monthly payments…"

"Okay, whatever it costs, I’ll pay. Just to get my name off of your site and you out of my house."

Norman pumped his fist and skipped happily to the door. "Yessss! First customer!"