Is there a free lunch on the Web? Analysis/Commentary Pundits never tire of telling us that anything free is only worth as much as a we pay for it. But I demur. The Web thrives on the free lunch concept, even though our noonday philanthropists reappear later as the cash register clerks of our dinner eateries. But that is probably as it should be. The commercialization of the Web inspires new ways of amicable, mutual back-scratching. What more is commerce than the barter of the plentiful for the rare? The plentiful includes information, education, automation of arduous tasks, and chummy innovative solutions to solving some of life's little problems. And many givers are public institutions who help themselves by helping the public. Before my library automated its account information, each Saturday I would draw up a frantic checklist of books due. Today, I dial up via modem and get an accurate reckoning of what's due and what's not. Before the Internet began providing e-texts, I would patiently vow to read an ancient tome. Now, with my bookcase online, I find it easy to keep my promises to myself, and dip plentifully into the storehouse of the ages. How else could I ever have completed the reading of such obstreperous classics as Moby Dick or Maupassant's Bel Ami? So much of life is spent gathering data, creating piles of desired information. Today, without the bother of accumulating them, we can challenge these mounds, like tourists or waders on a beach, and enjoy them at our own pace and on our own time. Never have the labors of so few -- not since Gutenberg's press -- succeeded in pleasing so many. The very richness of the Web threatens to eradicate boredom like the vaccines and ministrations of 20th century medicine mitigated epidemics, rendering some virulent viruses so rare they must be preserved for research. Of course, the Web has developed new sources of expenditure: microcomputers, routers, fiber optic wire, software, research subscriptions, fee-based electronic billing, and so many other new and strange needs and indulgences. And not surprisingly, the price of Microsoft programs has skyrocketed. You always pay something for something you get. Still, is that bad? Perhaps we have only shifted from an economy of chaffing pain to an economy of mild friction. Perhaps we have gone from an economy of alternating deprivation or glut to an economy of gentle satiation. Pray tell, Socrates, what does happiness cost? April 12, 2000