214 lines
5.4 KiB
Plaintext
214 lines
5.4 KiB
Plaintext
From slcpi!govt.shearson.com!mjohnsto@uunet.UU.NET Mon Jan 7 17:30:45 1991
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To: wordy@Corp
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Subject: chapter-5
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MUSIC, MOSFETS, AND SUNSETS
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#5 in the second online CAA series
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by
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Steven K. Roberts, HtN (WORDY)
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Bainbridge Island, WA
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September 25, 1986
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I suppose this machine really does look strange to people. I've been
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living with it for so long that I usually only see a list of uncompleted
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projects ranging from waterproofing to CMOS logic design. But when I ride down
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the street, people gape, and the local media are having a field day. Front
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page color in the Seattle Times; PM Magazine this week. Ah, this life of
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high-tech nomadics...
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Of course, I deliberately frolic in that strange region where the
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distinctions between technology and magic blur -- where anything you say will
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be believed because your looks alone overwhelm the senses. The other day I was
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at the Streamliner Diner, immersed happily in a flawless omelette and watching
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the crowd around the bike. A mother walked by with her 4-year-old boy.
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"Hi there, sonny," I said into the handheld transceiver. Through
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low-power 2-meter simplex, my voice was conveyed to the Winnebiko -- where it
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crackled from the console speaker. The kid froze, uncertain. He stared at the
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machine, ready to cry if necessary. "So what do
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YOU want for Christmas?" it asked him.
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His eyes widened as his mother scanned the area to find the hidden camera.
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"I want a train, and a bicycle, and..."
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"A bicycle like me?"
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The boy's face lit up in pure wonder. "Yes."
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"Well, we'll see what we can do about that." His mother began tugging him
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along the sidewalk. But he resisted long enough to gaze at the machine and
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wave solemnly.
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"Bye-bye, Mr. Bicycle."
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Of course, such play is only the beginning. Since the bottom line of this
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venture is FUN, much of my development work centers upon system capabilities
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that are not entirely aligned with that steely- eyed business world that
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swallows up most otherwise well-intentioned computers. Today saw the 68HC11
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and its custom interface logic spring to life -- not all debugged yet, of
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course, but getting there. The bike can now make comments in its synthesized
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voice, from "please do not touch me" when it detects vibration, to "oh no...
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here he comes again," when a radioed touch-tone command lets it know that I've
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finished lunch and am about to add my body to its 225-pound static load.
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Hey, why not? Computers *should* be fun, shouldn't they?
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Speaking of fun, life on Bainbridge Island continues to be a mingling of
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obsessive design work and pure pleasure. A few days ago Maggie and I hopped on
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a couple of Octo Company's resident mountain bikes -- agile machines with
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automatic transmissions, quite unlike the lumbering megacycles we are about to
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call home. Off into the woods we went, into deep green antiquity, whispering
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through silence so deep that our clicking freewheels seemed as grating as
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chainsaws. All around us were the projections of past and future: long-dead
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trees sinking into the forest floor below new growth sprouting green and perky
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into patches of flickering sunlight. Yeah, thanks for the reminder... we're
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just passing through...
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As a hint of approaching sunset pinked the sky, we emerged from the woods
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onto Manzanita Bay and found a spot by the clear water. A sky show was
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beginning, humbling us further, drawing us into a sweet melancholy touched with
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awe. Dancing gold on the watertop, clouds gilt-edged platinum, textures from
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the crystalline to the vaporous, moment-to-moment changes too subtle to notice
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and too powerful to ignore. This, folks, was a world-class light show, and I
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remember chuckling at the memory of those dancing lights that held me
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enraptured night after night, back in the strange 70's. In this electric sky
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there was beauty profound enough to tickle our lachrymal ducts and elicit soft
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moans of sensual appreciation.
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And there was more. We ferried to the City, upstream at rush hour,
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smiling our way through a flood of grim commuter faces racing the clock as
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always. We strolled to the Opera House and were suddenly surrounded by the
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expert musical caress of Andreas Vollenweider and friends -- jazz harp, flutes,
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synthesizers and percussion. Perfect. The group explored acoustical textures
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as grand and delicate as that sunset, raising goosebumps, raising the roof,
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raising awareness. At the last standing ovation, Andreas quietly spoke, "thank
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you."
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"No, thank *you*!" someone cried out, and the applause swelled again like
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another onslaught of Olympic rain. This was not ordinary music, this extended
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orgasm of sound; this was exquisite proof of Beethoven's insightful observation
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that "everything in music must be at once surprising and expected."
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Ah, rhapsody, rhapsody. As the Road gets closer, I renew my resolve to
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spend my life meeting remarkable people, seeking the pleasures of growth and
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discovery, and smiling as much as possible. What an odd land this is, where a
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bicycle loaded with computer systems can be a ticket to exactly that. (As a
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British lady at Expo observed, while looking at my bike: "Only in America!")
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See you next week. We'll be on the island a while longer, and will then
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pedal frantically south as winter begins its warning chill. I suppose
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everything in my life is surprising and expected, as well...
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-- Steve
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