CP/M/CPM_CDROM.iso/jsage/znode3/z3doc/chopsuey.azt/CHOPSUEY.ART

Text File | 1993-06-07 | 13.0 KB | 249 lines

Rick Charnes, San Francisco, Jan. 3, 1988

    For the last two weeks or so I have been without a 'b' key onáì
my keyboard.  A number of my recent BBS messages are lacking 'b'sáì
and my computing in general, as anyone could imagine, has beenáì
greatly hampered.  I have mentioned this to a number of peopleáì
and have done what I could to explain the strange look of my BBSáì
scrawlings and why I was missing from the circuit for a good tenáì
days or so.  I have until now been hiding behind explanations ofáì
'damaged keyboard' and 'bad accident,' and have today decided ináì
a moment of New Year's contrition to come clean about what REALLYáì
happened.  It causes me embarassment, humiliation and grief,áì
exposes me to ridicule and laughter in front of my dear comrades,áì
and generally makes for an interesting if not edifying story.  Iáì
hereby call it,

           THE MOST EXPENSIVE CHINESE MEAL I EVER ATE

                         *    *    *

    In most beginners' books on computers, books with titles likeáì
_So You Bought Your First Computer: Now What Do You Do With It?_,áì
in scads of articles addressing topics of general computer use,áì
and in general computer wisdom the first and most importantáì
dictum to which one is exhorted to obey is: NEVER EAT OR DRINKáì
AT THE COMPUTER.  With "never pull out a disk while the littleáì
red light is on" running a close second, this is the highestáì
principle to which it is suggested that we computer usersáì
subscribe.  If the government enforced this First Golden Rule ofáì
Computerdom I would certainly be the world's most wantedáì
criminal, spending the bulk of my useful life locked behind bars,áì
almost certainly in solitary confinement.  I would be the subjectáì
of do-gooders' magazine articles in Byte and Infoworld, the scornáì
of the computer legal establishment and the butt of all sorts ofáì
Nancy Reagan-style "just say no" jokes.  My mug would no doubtáì
appear on the front pages of newspapers accompanying articlesáì
using me as an example of 'what not to do.' ì

    But the fact of the matter is that despite advice fromáì
friends, computer manufacturers' representatives and clean-livingáì
authors of computer books, I eat and drink generously while atáì
the computer, I have always eaten and imbibed all sorts of fluidsáì
in front of the computer, and come hell or high water I willáì
probably continue to do so until caught red-handed by the longáì
arm of the law.  If this is a character defect, so be it, butáì
until The Lord sees fit to remove this particular one from myáì
sinful soul I will most probably continue to violate this firstáì
precept of civilized behavior.

    One day a few weeks ago, coming home from work I hadáì
stopped by at a Chinese restaurant to pick up a take-homeáì
container of one of my favorite dishes, shrimp chop suey.  I wasáì
anxious to do some programming on the computer and grabbed a forkáì
from the kitchen.  Parenthetically I've been surprised at someáì
people's puzzlement that it's possible to eat and compute at theáì
same time.  It's quite like reading and eating at the same time:áì
you compute during chews.  In any case I put the dish on my deskáì
and started programming away.  It must have been that sauce atáì
the bottom that I was having a hard time reaching and I must haveáì
picked up the plate to get to the bottom and --- spilled some onáì
the keyboard. áì

     OK, shrimp chop suey sauce on the keyboard.  Life is tough.áì
So what else is new?  I felt a minor wave of panic sweep over myáì
body, then got some paper towel to take care of it.  I wiped itáì
clean, turned the keyboard upside down just to make sure nothingáì
had fallen overboard, and then peered inside.  It looked bad.

     It looked wet down there.  The spill had been right aroundáì
the area of the space bar and the lower row of keys in theáì
center: 'V', 'B', 'N', 'M'.  I unscrewed the cover and got myáì
tools.  Q-Tips, alcohol, vacuum cleaner with the hose attached toáì
the 'blow air out' side, etc., etc.  My Qume 102a keyboard doesáì
not yield its keys easily to the circuit board underneath, andáì
all I could do was wipe away whatever liquid I saw.  I took aáì
deep breath, turned the terminal off and left it to dry for a fewáì
hours. áì

     I came back later late in the evening and the moistureáì
seemed to mostly be gone.  I turned the terminal on, didn't likeáì
what I saw, and went to bed.

     They say in mornings hope springs eternal and myáì
relationship to my computer is no exception.  The circuit boardáì
seemed to be completely dry, and I was expecting nothing but theáì
best.  Alas, I was only to be let down, and this time what I sawáì
starting bringing on a real, rather more permanent, panic.  Anáì
incessant, neverending string of 'b's was making its way acrossáì
the face of my terminal, non-stop.  I could type OK -- theáì
terminal would display what I had entered at the keyboard -- butáì
as soon as I would stop the great 'b' parade would continueáì
unabated like an army of ants impassioned by a spill of sugar onáì
the floor.  Sometimes I would see a string of 'm's and anáì
occasional problem with the 'n' would rear its head, but ináì
general my keyboard seemed to be tuned to some inner, spiritual,áì
tumultuous relationship with the letter 'b'. áì

     I couldn't even log on to my hard disk; whenever I triedáì
sneaking in the word 'HARD' it would come out 'BBHARD' oráì
'HARDBB.'  I tried all the things one does in these situations --áì
things that you know won't and can't work but you do neverthelessáì
in an attempt to fool yourself into thinking you're doingáì
something about the problem, things designed to keep your mindáì
from the awful truth that you've just done something terribly andáì
sinfully stupid.

     My guess was, and is, that a small amount of (sesame? áì
peanut?) oil had probably lodged itself immediately between theáì
moving part of the key and the circuit board, thus makingáì
permanent the connection that is normally made only when the keyáì
is pressed.

     The next day I called Qume's technical support staff in Sanáì
Jose and connected to a fellow who was friendly, courteous andáì
helpful.  He explained in a friendly, courteous and helpful wayáì
that there was a good possibility that my keyboard was ruined;áì
the Qumes have a thin plastic membrane coating the circuit boardáì
and if any oil or other liquid penetrated below this membrane Iáì
could purchase a new keyboard at such and such firm for $140.  Iáì
had spent an unsuccessful evening before trying to fully removeáì
the 'B' key mechanism from the keyboard in order to clean whatáì
was underneath, and he gave me what seemed to be goodáì
instructions to do just that, still with the reminder that ifáì
anything had gotten underneath the membrane I would be most
disappointed.  I hung up though feeling oddly hopeful.

     I got home and tried to follow his instructions, unhookingáì
some latch on the sides of the spring.  I tried it from theáì
right, I tried it from the left, I tried a paper clip, I triedáì
tweezers.  I pulled it, I pulled it down, I jumped up and Iáì
jumped down and nothing I could do would dislodge that keyáì
mechanism.  This being December 23th Qume was closed for the nextáì
4 days.áì

     Funny things happened to me during those next fouráì
days of computerlessness.  I did things I hadn't done for yearsáì
and from which I used to derive much pleasure: reading books,áì
writing letters, catching up on months, even years, of unansweredáì
correspondence.  I talked to old friends on the phone with whom Iáì
had lost touch.  Worst -- excuse me, I mean best -- of all, Iáì
even got to bed (generally) before midnight.  I felt a greatáì
sense of peace, a rootedness and  I hadn't knownáì
since April 1984 when I first trudged that box home from theáì
store with my Morrow MD3 inside.

     Actually enjoying the freedom from addiction, the nextáì
day I didn't even call Qume back!  I went for a few more daysáì
experiencing this strange new life I was leading, finding itáì
quite pleasant to continue in my drug-free ways.  But I can onlyáì
take a certain amount of serenity and tranquility and in a manicáì
fit of utter centeredness, about ten days after the originaláì
accident, really just for the hell of it -- not expectingáì
anything different -- I went over to my computer and hit theáì
switch.

     All that praying I'd been doing must have been on the rightáì
wavelength because the terminal was clean and motionless.  Noáì
incessant scrolling of 'b's.  What had happened?  I didn't knowáì
and still to this day don't.  Can something happen to oil in 10áì
days that renders it non-electrically conductive?  Or was it justáì
water taking its own sweet time to dry?  Strange properties ofáì
MSG? áì

     In any case my hard disk soon installed itself -- and myáì
system environment, resident command package and all the rest ofáì
my dear, long-lost friends were soon loading themselves into myáì
sweet and dear 64,000 bytes of RAM. áì

     And everything seemed to be fine until I hit my 'b' key. áì
Exhibiting that great principle in which irony weaves itselfáì
through the history of human enterprise, my 'b' key was now dead. áì
Nothing happened when I pressed it.  I've always felt that ironyáì
was the fundamental energy animating the universe, and I guessáì
someone up there must have decided to prove to me the correctnessáì
of my belief.

     Actually though, I was so elated at having my computer backáì
that it took a while to realize what was going on.  After some ì
minutes of typing however I was soon face to face with the cold,áì
hard fact that I had no way of putting a 'b' into anything I wasáì
writing, much less reforming a VDE or WordStar paragraph witháì
CTL-B.  The first thing I did, though, upon having my computeráì
back was to log onto all our wonderful Z-Nodes to say hello to myáì
dear comrades.  I was so happy to be back that I just assumedáì
people wouldn't mind that my messages had blank spaces whereveráì
the letter 'b' should have appeared.

     I went on like this for a while, stupidly but moderatelyáì
happy, until my roommate Wayne dropped into the living room toáì
say hello.  We chatted for a while and I explained what was goingáì
on.  He's by no means computer-literate but spent some time yearsáì
ago playing with early CP/M machines and hooking them up to musicáì
synthesizers and having a rather interesting time of it all.  Heáì
seemed rather excited about an idea he had that he felt wouldáì
solve my problem and started mumbling incoherently about ASCIIáì
values and don't I have a program that could send out the ASCIIáì
value for 'b'?  I couldn't imagine how to implement what he wasáì
talking about and sent him on his way.  I would have been glad toáì
get a program to redefine any of my keys to a 'b', but how couldáì
I do so without being able to type the letter at least once?

     It is said that when you stop thinking about something theáì
solution will come to you, and anyway I think in this dialecticaláì
universe problems are always solved obliquely, but about 10áì
minutes after I sent Wayne packing it came to me: FINREP!!!!! áì
The spirit of Eric Gans, though the flesh and blood personaáì
having long left the Z80 world, came to this Z-lover and shookáì
his shoulders.  In any text I was writing I could simply enter aáì
'dummy' character - '@', say - and then runáì

               FINREP filename // "@" 42

with 42h being of course the ASCII representation for 'b'.  It wasáì
a wonderful idea!  I ran in to Wayne's room to thank him and thenáì
back to the living room to write all sorts of new aliases. áì

     I actually did this for an hour or so, towards the end ofáì
which getting a bit tired from the extra work, when all at onceáì
the better solution, the solution that I am now using, hit me.  Iáì
run NUKEY.IOP, the Echelon key-redefinition input/output package. áì
It is the file NUKEY.IOP that contains the actual stringáì
redefinitions.  I simply did a dummy redefinition of one of myáì
function keys to 'z', then with a file patcher went into ì
NUKEY.IOP and changed the 7Ah ('z') to 42. áì

     I've now set fkey #4 to be upper-case 'B' and fkey #8 to beáì
CTL-B and am computing the best I can with that.  Am I doing OK? áì
Just by this document for yourself.  That's how my problem was atáì
least temporarily solved, and that's where I am today.  If I canáì
just remember to reach for function key #1 instead of the 'b' keyáì
-- assuredly not an easy feat -- I'm set.  If I at some pointáì
decide I don't want to I may very well have to shell out $140 foráì
that new keyboard. áì

     It was a fun story to write, but it definitely may turn outáì
to be the most expensive Chinese meal I've ever eaten.

                                        - Rick Charnes


P.S.  ** INCREDIBLE, AMAZING ADDENDUM JANUARY 6: THIS ISáì
EXTRAORDINARY!  I JUST TURNED MY COMPUTER ON -- ABOUT 3 WEEKSáì
AFTER THE ACCIDENT -- AND THE 'B'/'b' KEY WORKS!!  INCREDIBLE!! áì
How could this have happened?  What a hobby this is... áì

P.P.S.  January 23 -- After not touching my computer for 2 weeksáì
while I was away: The 'b' again no longer works.  What a hobbyáì
this is...