The first thing I did is “load up.” It sounds dangerous but isn’t. Mondex cards slide neatly into special screen phones all over Swindon. Dial your bank, punch in your PIN code and zap, you’re loaded. The bank can send up to 500 (about $800) worth of current into the silicon chip on your smart card. You can then transfer money instantly to your bank, your merchant–and, once they’re hooked up. your child or your landlord on the other side of the world. “Technically, it’s money in the form of data with a programmable shield around it,” says Jones. “In Swindon, it’s just cash on a card.”
I load up 60 (about $100), and the advantages are obvious. Not once am I accosted by a pushy street person asking, “Buddy, can you spare a blip?” I start by buying NEWSWEEK for 1.80 at a bookstore. The clerk slides my card into a Mondex reader (it looks like a desktop calculator) wired to the cash register. Two seconds later the screen flashes SALE COMPLETE; there’s no form to sign, no wait for authorization, no paper receipt. Suddenly I feel smugly modern as I watch non-Mondex users awkwardly trying to make change. “No, I can’t do four pence, so I’ll have to give you 50,” says one customer, fumbling in his pocket. Then the poor bumbler drops his coins on the floor.
Which raises the question, will coin purses survive the cybercash era? So far, the answer is a clunky yes. Mondex relies on a bulky electronic “wallet” to move money from your card to, for instance, your child’s. First the giving card goes in, then the getting one. The wallet also records your past 10 transactions and lets you “lock” your card against theft. Luckily, you don’t need to carry it all the time. It’s so heavy, you half wonder if that guy dropping his coins wasn’t ahead of the game after all. Mondex’s best minds are working on a lighter model.
Cybercash is remarkably simple to spend. I quickly unload 16 on a necktie, 2.60 on shower gel at the Body Shop, 13.99 on a Dylan CD and 10.99 on a Parker pen set. You can check your remaining assets by sticking your card into the Mondex “balance reader” built into a lightweight key ring. I’m tempted not to. This gizmo is much easier to ignore than the haunting sight of an emptying wallet.
Not everyone takes to Mondex. I order a pint of the local brew at the Lamb and Flag pub and slap my Mondex bravely on the counter. Rod, the bartender, isn’t amused. The pub turned out to be one of those nonparticipating retailers. This isn’t the only bug the Mondex folks will have to work out. What, for instance, is to become of street musicians? I asked one sidewalk flute player if she took Mondex. “No,” she said. “But I’ll take a check.”
