It's here that Havana's chaotic streets—full of neighbors chatting outside their homes, old men playing dominoes, young lovers enthralled with each others' presence—turn into places where people stare at their screens, just like most of the world seems to do all day, every day. This, obviously, is where the internet lives.

The brand-new hotspots are packed with dozens or hundreds of jacked-in Cubans, regardless of the hour or the weather. At night, the glow of a laptop or smartphone eerily illuminates users' faces, giving the whole square a cyberpunk vibe. If it's raining, internet users pull out their umbrellas, crowd under alcoves, awnings, or door frames. Surveillance cameras are omnipresent; security messages routinely warn you that the connection is being monitored; websites that are seen as anti-communist are blocked.