All names in this article have been changed to protect the innocent and the guilty.

"Cybersex? Sounds like a good way to get electrocuted," says "Kase", a Kirkland House senior. If only he knew. Imagine: sex with Madonna or the Pope which Seemslike the real thing! A home virtual reality sex system would create more of a store stampede than Cabbage Patch Dolls or Mighty Morphin' Power Rangers ever did.

The concept of virtual reality (VR) begs for use in the sexual realm. Nearly anyone who thinks about VR in terms of its depiction in Hollywood (consider "Lawnmower Man" or "Disclosure") can think about it for another five minutes and come up with the idea of virtual sex. Certainly computer developers, fully aware of the double entendre intended in "fingering" someone (cf. Fifteen Minutes last week), are forging ahead in pursuit of the virtual orgasm.

The idea of a virtual grope is appealing for so many reasons, not the least of which is availability. Who wouldn't want to be able to make out on demand with Marilyn Monroe or your upstairs neighbor for that matter? Virtual sex would solve the perpetual problem of who to take home from a party. Who needs to settle for beer goggling when the man of your dreams in available electronically? A virtual man won't steal the covers for one thing.

"Daisy," a Dunster senior, has several concrete theories about the possible directions virtual sex could take. "Once you have the full body suit virtual experience, there will be an enormous potential for living out erotic fantasies in total privacy. But the idea of being plugged into a world designed in the dull, plastic, feathered hair aesthetic of most current pornography is terrifying." For better or for worse, both of these scenarios are still imaginary; the technology is years behind the theory.

The technology available at this point is largely autoerotic. Pornographic compact discs were on the cutting edge in 1992, with items such as "Cyborgasm," a recording of various sexual situations. Most notable is the dominatrix episode, which features an audio mistress clicking a pair of scissors and saying, "snip, snip, snip!" Although "Cyborgasm," fancied itself revolutionary by "exploring new media for erotica," it was merely a novelty and more or less fell flat; the sex noises on it are barely more interesting than the ones heard through the average fire door. As CD-ROM drives for personal computers have become more affordable, CD-ROMs featuring erotic pictures and film clips have become more available. A game called "Virtual Valerie" has become wildly popular. In it, the player attempts to fill Valerie's voracious sexual appetite. You'd be surprised by what your mouse can do.

At this historical moment, the field of virtual sex is dominated by the Internet. Yes, information theorists talk endlessly about the debate over commercialism on the net, about its scientific and academic uses. But what of the use of the net for more. Shall we say, "private" endeavors? Pornography has always driven new media; recall, if you will, the popularization of the VHS VCR, fueled largely by the availability of skin flicks on VHS format. Without touching upon the moral and social argument which surrounds the issue of erotica, the fact remains that people want to get off, and they want it in large enough numbers to warrant a huge industry devoted toward that end. The available new media in this case is the Internet, and its users have wasted no time in determining codes and standards for its use as a sexual forum.

As referenced in pop culture through songs such as Salt & Pepa's "Sexy Noises Turn Me On," and the Happy Mondays' "Bob's Yer Uncle" (voted by WFNX in 1991 as the "best song to have sex to"), talking dirty is a staple of sexual interaction. To those who practice it, 'netsex builds on this erotic principle by typing dirty. To those who have not tried it, it can seem alien, even perverse. As "Worm," a Leverett senior puts it, "Who wants to spank off at the rate of 9600 baud?" Nevertheless, it goes on all day, every day, in every forum which allows people to talk to each other electronically.

The most popular talk forum among Harvard students, and college students in general, is Internet Relay Chat (IRC). With hundreds of channels and thousands of users worldwide, conversations about every conceivable topic go on at every hour of the day. Different channels represent "rooms," in which users discuss interests ranging from Buddhism to vampires. IRC is notorious for its addictive qualities; serious users will log on for hours a day, acquiring an entire community of friends on the net. Imagine the Crimson Sports Grills on a Friday night; the net works on the same principle. Serious channel users can always find a welcoming atmosphere where everyone knows their login name.

For some, the computer medium is extremely liberating. It can provide a front from behind which users express their true desires without repercussions. "People who want to hide behind the computer screen can," notes "Hot Lips," a Lowell resident. Controversy rages over the issue of whether a virtual existence is more or less valid than a physically interpersonal one. In a sense, a net relationship allows more honesty than a conversation face-to-face. Things which are difficult to share in person can be expressed anonymously, without risk to one's reputation. Anonymity gives rise to the expression of desires that are not always conventionally accepted. Take alt.sex.fetish.diapers, for instance.

Sometimes, Internet users simply chat and get to know one another. Frequently, this "knowing" approximates the biblical sense of the word. While, IRC is not exclusively a sex chat line, the vast user population implies that a significant number will put it to libidinous use.

So, what happens when one has netsex? The closest analogue is phone sex; people trade fantasies, "flirt" explicitly and engage in private activities at either end of the exchange. Those who cruise for 'netsex do it much more boldly than those who try for it in the flesh. IRC channels devoted to looking for love are peppered with calls of "Anybody horny?" "Any ladies out there?" and statements extolling a user's physical virtues. In non-'net terms, these channels amount to a room full of people milling about with signs proclaiming their libidinal urges.

Hot Lips tells an amusing story of one of the few instances in which she met someone on the 'net and then followed it up with a real-life rendezvous. He was a Boston University student from Denmark; his 'net nickname was "Hamlet." They met on IRC in the early evening and talked for several hours before deciding to get together in the Square. "It was cold outside, he seemed funny, and we ended up sharing a bottle of wine over a Duraflame in my room. We were sitting far away from each other, having a conversation about everything except sex, when he said, out of the blue: "Well, #1, I could go home, or #2 we could have sex." I started laughing, at which point he said, "You're not saying anything, which I assume means you vote for #1. Since I vote for #2, it looks like we're tied."

Another user had an Internet date of sorts,brief courtship process and all. "I was onceinvited to the channel #woodswith anotherwoman," says a Harvard senior. "Even though it wasprobably a man posing as a woman. I thought it waskind of cute to be going off into the woodstogether." Who said there was no romance left inthe world?

The idea of going into the woods with anindividual of indeterminate gender underscores theuncertainty inherent in 'net relationships. Whenhaving 'netsex, the information one "partner"knows about the other is highly selective andoften false. After all, what can they give you?The Michelangelo Virus? There is a certainexcitement for many in this ability to create acharacter, to be an ideal self or someonecompletely different. If you want to be asix-foot platinum blonde transsexual dominatrixone day and a vertically challenged Cyclops fromNew Zealand the next, all it takes is the click ofthe keys. No one will ever know. By the sametoken, though, that conversation partner whodescribes himself as one hunk of an Olympic lugeracer may not be any more attractive than your oldtennis shoe.