Syndicated in The Dallas Morning News on Tuesday, 13 October 1998 * As you've undoubtedly noticed, the Internet remains very much a work in progress. Every week seems to bring a new round of legal, technical, regulatory and social challenges. Given this unsettled and daunting state of affairs, it's easy to overlook the bright little milestones that remind us we're headed in the right direction. For just a moment, let's turn away from the spam wars, censorship battles and domain-name disputes to look at a successful case of online community-building, a model we've not seen before. This isn't a story about big-time Good-with-a-capital-G. It isn't a melodramatic, life-or-death online crusade. It's about the kind of unglamorous, routine and unself-conscious good that makes a lot of everyday lives a little richer. This is a story about a man, a plan and a whole mess of peppers. First, a little background : I am a chili aficionado of first rank. My devotion to chili is somewhere on the spectrum between extreme and insane. I grow peppers. I collect hot sauces. I have logged thousands of travel miles in my never-ending quest for fire. Along the way, I have often wished I could have my entire digestive tract coated with Teflon. The habanero pepper (Capsicum chinense) is widely acknowledged to be the most piquant chili on the planet. Most varieties are rated at 200,000 to 300,000 Scoville units, the standard scale used to grade heat. (For reference, a jalapeņo is about 2,500 to 7,000 Scoville units.) The ultimate of habaneros - rated at a nerve fraying, earwax-melting 500,000 Scoville - is the Red Savina, a proprietary varietal developed and grown by GNS Spices in the Southern California town of Walnut. Fresh Red Savinas are rarely seen in grocery stores. Through other channels such as mail order and the Web, they've been known to command between $16 and $26 per pound. In recent years, Rob and Joni Rayment, the owners of a hot-food emporium in Milpitas, California, made a yearly harvest-time run down to GNS for fresh Red Savinas. Unfortunately, harest time this year found the Rayments out of the hot-food business. That did not sit well with Art Pierce, a 61-year-old Watsonville, Calif., retiree. On September 16, he posted a message to Bay Area Chileheads, an Internet e-mail discussion group. His proposition : Because Mr. Pierce had a truck and a lot of time on his hands, he would do the harvest run - 621 miles round trip. Best of all, Mr. Pierce figured the bounty could be bought cooperatively at about $2.25 a pound. GNS Spices, which does not sell retail, agreed to cut its usual minimum wholesale order of 500 pounds in half. That is, by any measure, still an extreme amoung of pepper. A single golfball-size Red Savina is potent enough to make four to six strong adults weep. Over the next few days, the e-mail network kicked in orders for 191 pounds. A second, wider e-mail notice on Sept. 25 brought the order up to 280 pounds. Mr. Pierce had never met half of the people in on the deal. When we speak of the digital community, the term usually calls to mind huge structures, complex nets of relationships woven over long spans of time. This is a wholly different model - a guerrilla structure that popped up to meet a specific common need. And after the deal goes down, the ad hoc network just dissolves back into the ether until the next time it's needed. In a sense, this is community distilled to its most elemental form - no Web site, no chat or bulletin board structure, no marketing plan or development team. Some of the key players in the co-op probably will never meet face-to-face. This idea - task-focused community-on-demand - would seem to be a very big deal, indeed. Rob http://www2.1starnet.com/galaxy37/cafe_galactika.html