"Technological milestones ? like the furlong posts on highways out of Yangon ? help us to measure how far we have travelled. I recall vividly the first time I saw a tablet computer in Myanmar. It was early 2011 in Myitkyina and the Tatmadaw?s Northern Command was flexing its muscles, a prelude to the new Kachin war. The Kachin nationalists were disheartened that they had failed to get a viable slate of candidates up for the November 2010 election. Everyone was waiting for what would happen next. My conversations in Myitkyina were heavy with talk of the conflict to come. It was during one of these discussions that something caught my eye on the other side of the room: a flickering animated screen. Huddled around, a small group of teenagers expressed their amusement with, and their appreciation of, the high-tech marvel in their hands. Until then the only widely available computing facilities in places like Myitkyina were boisterous and ramshackle internet parlours. Most were full of young men and women. The boys tended to play shoot-?em-up games, while many of the women would spend their hours in chat rooms with friends from near and far. Some, of course, would use the internet for more serious surfing, for writing job applications and assignments, or for setting plans to make big moves to distant shores. But they were probably the minority. Back then, the country?s rickety internet infrastructure served as a distraction for kids with a bit of discretionary money and a whole lot of free time. Getting a seat in the most popular internet cafes could be a hassle for newcomers, but often somebody would make way for a dusty field researcher trying to check in on news from home. In such settings it was common to need layers of digital magic to get past Myanmar?s censors. Somewhere deep inside the Ministry of Information, faceless arbiters of political sentiment laboured to keep online rebellions in check..."