That somewhere, at least right now, would seem to be GitHub. In fact, it's possible to see GitHub as a new killer app for the Internet--a "mini Web," as Preston-Werner describes it, a place where networked minds actually build things together.
"The network effect is awesome," Preston-Werner says, sitting in the situation room, another ironically themed chamber (this one has a red Batphone to nowhere, a massive table in burled veneer, Big Boy Executive Chairs, and LED signs with the time zones of various GitHub outposts). "There are standards now based on GitHub, so everybody can come in to a new project and immediately know how to get the code, how to contribute code, how to review the code, how to submit issues to the code base.... The more people do that, the stronger the effects and the gains from having a uniform, well-known, standardized system. And that's happening really, really rapidly."
That network effect gets reinforced in numerous ways. For example, a developer on GitHub acquires a social reputation, and that reputation becomes a way to find new, paying work; the network's role as a placement service helps it to grow still larger. The truly badass potential of GitHub, though, is that it isn't only a force multiplier for producing code but also for the generation of ideas--and for the products created from those ideas. As Preston-Werner says, projects hosted on GitHub will increasingly be "not just code, but anything that involves working on files on a computer: books, hardware projects, schematics for circuit boards, legal documents--anything that ends up in a digital format." This is already happening on the site, including projects for books (several coding manuals, for example, are being written on GitHub--including one about GitHub), hardware (OpenRov has the hardware design, software, and circuit schematics for its underwater robots on GitHub), and government (the U.S. and U.K. governments both work on the site).
Wanstrath, who handed the CEO title over to Preston-Werner in June and is an absolute geyser of GitHub zeal, agrees that as more people pile into the service, a shift is taking place: "Now we are finding that it's not just about the code; it's about, 'Hey, I want to work on this with you.' That's really eye-opening to us and gets everyone here superexcited. Working with someone else is just an awesome part of being alive. Creating art, creating tools, creating documents, doing homework, anything--it's not limited to programming. I don't see why musicians wouldn't want to work this way, for example."
In other words, as GitHub gets bigger, its power becomes less about the platform itself than about the people on it. One day in the GitHub offices, I ran into David ten Have, a New Zealander (and an Inc. cover subject in 2009). Ten Have is founder and CEO of Ponoko, a company focused on developing "the tools to enable digital fabrication." That means a system that could, one day, given a disassembled MP3 player, spec out each component, relay those specs to a 3-D printer, and have the printer produce all the pieces required for assembly by a nearby robot. Ten Have says, "GitHub makes this easier and faster, because it has a platform that enables the collaboration and, most important, the social norms to encourage people to look at the world collaboratively. That is fundamentally why GitHub is important beyond software: Ethos and attitude are transferable--into lawmaking, product design, manufacturing, biology, chemistry, dance, music, moviemaking, books, cooking... The list goes on."
And on. Which suggests that GitHub has only begun to grow--as a business, as a tool for business, and as a cultural force. "It's this huge ricochet effect," Wanstrath says, nearly manic with optimism. "We are this thing that people can step on, like an elevator, and then go shooting into space."
