Clackety Clack, Don't Type Back
By Carrington Vanston // 2004 Oct 17
With my net connection down for the night I turned to my Apple IIe computer for a bit of 8-bit fun. I was surprised to note how satisfying the CLACK of the keyboard was. So now I must ask my PowerBook's mushy keyboard to eat my words...
Yes, this was Saturday night. Yes, I did turn down an invite to go out dancing with friends in favor of sitting home typing on a twenty year old computer. Yes, I understand how much of a nerd I am. Sigh.
Where was I? Oh right: the Apple IIe.
I don't have much by way of software for the Apple IIe yet, so I did what we all used to do two decades ago when when faced with a lack of software: I wrote some. The IIe has a version of BASIC built-in so I used that to slap together a quick program that made a little man run along the bottom of the screen and get hit by a falling anvil.
Admittedly this isn't the most useful program in the world, but it gave me a chance to bang away on the keyboard for a while. The keyboard is actually the point of this article, but I haven't gotten to the point yet. I tend to ramble. You have probably noticed this. In fact by now you've probably skipped down to the italic bit that says "which finally brings me to the point of this article." Well, I assume it's in italics and says something like that, but I can't be sure because I haven't gotten to the point at which I'll get to the point, if you see what I mean.
Where was I? Oh, right: programming.
What I really wanted to do was play something like an Infocom text adventure game. So I saved the code for Anvil Smoosh version 1.0, typed "new" (it took me forever to remember how to clear out the BASIC code, silly me), and started working on an interactive fiction game.
I was making it up as I went, entering bits of code stream of consciousness style and not worrying about the specifics of either the map or the objects in the game. It was a very fun way to spend a Saturday night--I mentioned I knew the nerdliness of that, right? Just checking. I'm going to finish up the game, but probably switch to developing it in one of the dedicated interactive fiction development languages like Inform or Tads so I stop reinventing the wheel. Actually, a more appropriate metaphor would be "so I stop having to figure out how many wheels I need and where to put them, and I can get on with describing the road trip" but that's not as catchy.
Where was I? Oh right: the keyboard.
And that finally brings me to the point of this article. No italics, so there--ha ha, too bad for you, skimmers! No help for you! ... Sorry, just a bit of an in-joke for those who have been with me on this long rambling journey to the point at which I can point out the point. For those who jumped ahead, you could always scroll up and see what you missed, but don't expect us to wait for you. It's a little late to be asking us for favors, don't you think, Mr. or Ms. I'm Too Busy To Read The Whole Article?
Where was I? Oh right: the point.
The point of this article (oh, pooh) is that I couldn't believe how fast I could type on that keyboard. Every year, computer makers strive to make quieter and quieter keyboards. The days of CLACK CLACK CLACK are long gone. I can only assume the sound of all that loud typing was distracting mangers in the next room from concentrating on their games of computer solitaire. Alternatively, perhaps the lack of the clacks had been cluing managers into the fact that the people in the next room were just playing solitaire, too. I'm not sure. All I do know is, for whatever motivation, keyboards keep getting quieter.
It was a very fun way to spend a Saturday night--I mentioned I knew the nerdliness of that, right? Just checking.
And how are they getting quieter? By becoming mushier. Sure, they're silent. They're all kinds of silent. I'm thwacking away on my PowerBook's keyboard right now and the only noise it makes when I strike a key is a muffled thump. (Note to self: add "muffled thump" when anvil strikes little man in version 1.1.)
But the tactile feeling of keyboards has been reduced year upon year. I notice this each time I get a new computer. But it's easy to become acclimatized to a new keyboard, so after a day or two of using a new keyboard I'm off and typing without complaint. Except I suppose this whole article is a complaint. Okay, I'm off and typing with rarely a complaint outside of the occasional huffy complaint I post online.
Where was I? Oh, right: tactile feeling.
A couple decade's worth of small moves toward mushiness has resulted in one big bowl of mush. I really noticed the difference when I jumped back twenty years in one night to type on that Apple IIe.
Sure, the Apple IIe is an ergonomic nightmare. The keyboard is raised about 4 inches high so my wrists were at a terrific angle. Sitting at my kitchen table, it was quickly apparent this would not be a setup I could use for many hours on end without strain. But it was just as quickly apparent I was typing as fast and then faster than I had in many years.
I think part of it was the fact that the keys are more spread out on that keyboard. They're spaced about the same as my fingers are when I let my hand hang loose. My PowerBook's so-called "full sized keyboard" forces my fingers closer together. I thought a smaller keyboard would result in faster typing since my fingers travel a shorter distance, but the reality is wider key spacing results in larger "targets" and thus faster typing.
I actually did a quick typing test, grabbing a nearby novel and selecting a chapter at random to transcribe on both computers. The novel was Triplanetary by E. E. "Doc" Smith. It's the first in the classic Lensman books, and it's a pip. If you're into sci-fi (or speculative fiction, or sf, or whatever the hell the more hip nerds are calling it these days) you really should read the entire Lensman series as it's arguably the greatest space opera ever told. All six books in the series are must-reads for fans of, um...scientificition.
Where was I? Oh, right: the typing test.
I transcribed the passage notably faster on the Apple II than on my PowerBook. I was just typing text: no formatting menus to select nor any strange muscle-memory key combination chords to play. I typed two chapters. Each computer got it's chance to go second in case familiarity with the text sped things up. In both cases, I was measurably faster on the Apple IIe's keyboard. By "measurably" I mean "I quickly glanced at a distant clock before and after typing." This was all very scientific.
So I have very scientifically proven that I type faster on one Apple computer that was 172 times cheaper and supposedly runs 1,250 times slower than another Apple computer. That must be what Apple means by "the megahertz myth."
Now, I'm not about to return to a world devoid of multiple gigabyte hard drives, sub-5-pound notebooks, bright color screens, wireless high speed internet access, and all the porn--I mean music--I mean news I can download. I'm nostalgic, not stupid. But I am going to investigate my mechanical switch keyboard options, with an eye out for ones which shunt that useless caps lock key to a remote corner where it belongs.
And the CLACK! Oh, I like the CLACK. The CLACK is very satisfying. There's nothing that says "Hey look at you! You're getting stuff done!" like that CLACK. My PowerBook's spongy keyboard doesn't say anything so encouraging. Thump thump thump, it mumbles, which I take to mean "one must assume you are going to edit this article later, musn't one?" The snobbish little dear. My Apple IIe is much more encouraging. "Go, Carrington, go!" it says with its CLACKs. "I'm with you all the way. You're doing great. Keep it up. Thanks for not letting me end up in the garbage."
My PowerBook clearly doesn't have enough fear of my passing fancies. Perhaps I should bring up a chart showing the rapidity of computer obsolescence and maybe set my desktop image to a photo of a computer landfill to see if I can get its attention.
Ah, is that a little clack I hear?
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Carrington Vanston is a humorist and atheist. Or vice versa. He wrote and directed the long forthcoming feature film Duck Duck Goose. He has written two tiny plays which had two tiny productions: The Sound Of Two Hands Typing and Stark Raving Happy. He speaks three languages fluently, but two of them are English with a silly accent. The third is English with a slightly less silly accent. He can pronounce his full name backwards, he has a favorite mathematical equation, and he wants that $2 you owe him. Carrington should be stored in a cool, dry place, and may explode if heated.