Saturday, July 27, 2013

You err, it stirs…

The story of how technology made the world tremble each time a spelling mistake was made...

What do you get when you put together a processor, some memory, Linux OS, vibration mode, motion sensor and Wi-Fi capabilities? A computer, of course. Now, what happens when you add some ink and a nib to this contraption? You get a digital pen that vibrates when it spots spelling mistakes or illegible writing.
The pulsating pen has steadily been writing its own success story in traditional and social media.  And while the world stands agape at this new invention, India can only stand aside and yawn. From doors that shut themselves till eternity if a wrong password is uttered, to ghosts that give the slip when the wrong answer is given to their question, we’ve seen it all in our mythological movies, haven’t we?

However, since science is always given preference over movies in our media, people have gone suitably ga-ga over the invention. And just when the pen is all set to chalk its own course, the naysayers (read manufacturers of ordinary gel pens and ball pens) have embarked on Project Sabotage, to make sure that the success story of the pen springs a leak. Here’s their side of the argument:

“Imagine students writing their exams with this pen. They would start trembling the minute they make a mistake. Schools would then inform their parents who would start wondering if their child had contracted examophobia, testitis, quizzaria or worse. This could in turn lead to child psychiatrists working overtime and minting money. The DVD sales of Taare Zameen Par will skyrocket all over again, with everyone wanting to know if a) their kid has a problem and b) Aamir would visit their kid’s school as well.

There would also be other problems if the minicomputer inside became virus-infected. Parents would have a tough time sending leave letters to their kid's school stating that their ward be excused from attending classes for two days because his pen had crashed. Schools would simply refuse to entertain such nonsense.
Doctors could also have a serious problem if they used the pen to write prescriptions. The digital pen would go hyper trying to decipher every squiggle of theirs – from Aspirin to Zinetac, not a word of their indecipherable writing would make sense to the pen, so it would protest and vibrate non-stop. And most pens would give up, with their mini on-board computer going into a freeze each time the doctor started prescribing medicines. 'Patient alive, pen dead' would be the common refrain heard in the corridors of every dispensary. Even if the pens survived this graphologic nightmare, the doctors wouldn't be able to handle so many vibrations each minute and would be forced to seek medical assistance or an assistant, as the case may be.

There could also be serious issues if the pen were to be used in courts - judges and lawyers would appear to be under severe pressure if the hand that wrote the verdict trembled because of the vibration. The battery could be a problem as well - what if the pen ran out of charge and the writer had 750 episodes left in his daily soap? And what if the battery leaked, creating a short-circuit and sending coroners into a state of severe shock each time they signed a death certificate?”

Adding support to this argument, another anti-pen faction began a movement to bring back the pencil and oust the digital pen. Called Pencil-in, ‘the vaccine for trembling hands’, this movement suggested an innovation which would be so advanced that it would make the vibrating pen obsolete. The pen was able to point out mistakes made, but this innovation would do better - it would carry an implant that would actually help remove the error. This attachment needed no maintenance, microchip, software, power source or upgrades. It wouldn't hang or get corrupt.


And that was how pencils with an eraser at the other end were born. 

Saturday, July 13, 2013

Revenge of the rubber duckie

Responding to the trauma inflicted on animals in labs, the animal kingdom hits back where it hurts most – at technology.

It was the ultimate tale of revenge ever planned and executed. For centuries, man had indiscriminately used animals for his experiments. And one fine day, the animals decided that enough was enough, as opposed to man's firm belief that the world is not enough, a philosophy he imbibed from an entity appropriately named Everything Or Nothing.

So the entire zoological universe went to the asinine community for advice because they knew exactly how man thought – after all, man was spending most of his life making an ass of himself. "We need to make him powerless,” announced the head ass. “What is the one thing that he can't do without?" "Mobile phones, internet, social networking sites..." the answers came, fast and furious. “In other words, technology,” the ass declared triumphantly. "So let's take that away from him by infiltrating into the tech domain and making him redundant."

The move had to be slow, but persistent. The bug was sent in first, in 1946. No one suspected a thing. Soon, the mouse scurried in, followed by the virus and the worm. Meanwhile, the dog felt terribly insulted at his exclusion, so the three-headed dog from Greek mythology, Kerberos, became a network authentication protocol. Python, a programming language and Tomcat, a web server, too got in unobserved. The penguin moved in as Tux, the Linux mascot, computer data storage was taken over by RAM and the gnu became an operating system. The infiltration process was complete. It was now time for takeover.

The dove interrupted the proceedings. "What we are doing - it isn't fair." "Really?" the ass sneered. "Do you know that the humans pinched all their technology from us? They took echolocation from bats, navigation systems form pigeons, industrial adhesives from geckos, cancer-detecting microchips from jellyfish, streamlined Bullet trains from a kingfisher's bill and highway reflectors from cats' eyes? And what have we got in return? Send our troop of monkeys now."

The question 'How many monkeys would it take to type out the entire works of Shakespeare?' started off being an extension of the light bulb joke, but what man didn't realise was that the apes had taken it seriously. Soon, they collaborated on 'Going simian with Shakespeare', a virtual project involving virtual keyboards, and virtually came up with the entire unabridged collection - okay, they had succeeded in recreating 99.990% of it. Suddenly, the data entry industry found a new source of entry level operators, and by making themselves available in large numbers, the chimps not only solved IT's constant problem of manpower shortage, but also agreed to work for peanuts.

Meanwhile the ass, while playing Donkey Kong, accidentally clicked on a web banner for Flipkart and ended up ordering a book titled 'The Pragmatic Programmer'. To his delight, he discovered a life-altering fact - a programmer had used a rubber duck to debug code. (Actually, the programmer would carry the rubber duck with him and explain the entire code line by line to it, during the course of which he would figure out the problem himself, but attributed the final results to his rubber duckie.) This was wonderful news. If rubber ducks could repair Java code, imagine what live ducks could do! And it was thus that the animals took to technology like a duck to water.


What's going to happen when the animals take over the tech world entirely remains to be seen. But rumours are abound that once the monkeys are through with Shakespeare, they will be working on an original book, titled Man Farm, where men will be playing the roles of pigs, horses and other animals. A hi-tech movie is also on the anvil, featuring lots of special effects and a giant human being venturing into a forest, tentatively titled Manzilla.