For the last two weeks or so I have been without a 'b' key on��
my keyboard. A number of my recent BBS messages are lacking 'b's��
and my computing in general, as anyone could imagine, has been��
greatly hampered. I have mentioned this to a number of people��
and have done what I could to explain the strange look of my BBS��
scrawlings and why I was missing from the circuit for a good ten��
days or so. I have until now been hiding behind explanations of��
'damaged keyboard' and 'bad accident,' and have today decided in��
a moment of New Year's contrition to come clean about what REALLY��
happened. It causes me embarassment, humiliation and grief,��
exposes me to ridicule and laughter in front of my dear comrades,��
and generally makes for an interesting if not edifying story. I��
hereby call it,
THE MOST EXPENSIVE CHINESE MEAL I EVER ATE
* * *
In most beginners' books on computers, books with titles like��
_So You Bought Your First Computer: Now What Do You Do With It?_,��
in scads of articles addressing topics of general computer use,��
and in general computer wisdom the first and most important��
dictum to which one is exhorted to obey is: NEVER EAT OR DRINK��
AT THE COMPUTER. With "never pull out a disk while the little��
red light is on" running a close second, this is the highest��
principle to which it is suggested that we computer users��
subscribe. If the government enforced this First Golden Rule of��
Computerdom I would certainly be the world's most wanted��
criminal, spending the bulk of my useful life locked behind bars,��
almost certainly in solitary confinement. I would be the subject��
of do-gooders' magazine articles in Byte and Infoworld, the scorn��
of the computer legal establishment and the butt of all sorts of��
Nancy Reagan-style "just say no" jokes. My mug would no doubt��
appear on the front pages of newspapers accompanying articles��
using me as an example of 'what not to do.' �
But the fact of the matter is that despite advice from��
friends, computer manufacturers' representatives and clean-living��
authors of computer books, I eat and drink generously while at��
the computer, I have always eaten and imbibed all sorts of fluids��
in front of the computer, and come hell or high water I will��
probably continue to do so until caught red-handed by the long��
arm of the law. If this is a character defect, so be it, but��
until The Lord sees fit to remove this particular one from my��
sinful soul I will most probably continue to violate this first��
precept of civilized behavior.
One day a few weeks ago, coming home from work I had��
stopped by at a Chinese restaurant to pick up a take-home��
container of one of my favorite dishes, shrimp chop suey. I was��
anxious to do some programming on the computer and grabbed a fork��
from the kitchen. Parenthetically I've been surprised at some��
people's puzzlement that it's possible to eat and compute at the��
same time. It's quite like reading and eating at the same time:��
you compute during chews. In any case I put the dish on my desk��
and started programming away. It must have been that sauce at��
the bottom that I was having a hard time reaching and I must have��
picked up the plate to get to the bottom and --- spilled some on��
the keyboard. ��
OK, shrimp chop suey sauce on the keyboard. Life is tough.��
So what else is new? I felt a minor wave of panic sweep over my��
body, then got some paper towel to take care of it. I wiped it��
clean, turned the keyboard upside down just to make sure nothing��
had fallen overboard, and then peered inside. It looked bad.
It looked wet down there. The spill had been right around��
the area of the space bar and the lower row of keys in the��
center: 'V', 'B', 'N', 'M'. I unscrewed the cover and got my��
tools. Q-Tips, alcohol, vacuum cleaner with the hose attached to��
the 'blow air out' side, etc., etc. My Qume 102a keyboard does��
not yield its keys easily to the circuit board underneath, and��
all I could do was wipe away whatever liquid I saw. I took a��
deep breath, turned the terminal off and left it to dry for a few��
hours. ��
I came back later late in the evening and the moisture��
seemed to mostly be gone. I turned the terminal on, didn't like��
what I saw, and went to bed.
They say in mornings hope springs eternal and my��
relationship to my computer is no exception. The circuit board��
seemed to be completely dry, and I was expecting nothing but the��
best. Alas, I was only to be let down, and this time what I saw��
starting bringing on a real, rather more permanent, panic. An��
incessant, neverending string of 'b's was making its way across��
the face of my terminal, non-stop. I could type OK -- the��
terminal would display what I had entered at the keyboard -- but��
as soon as I would stop the great 'b' parade would continue��
unabated like an army of ants impassioned by a spill of sugar on��
the floor. Sometimes I would see a string of 'm's and an��
occasional problem with the 'n' would rear its head, but in��
general my keyboard seemed to be tuned to some inner, spiritual,��
tumultuous relationship with the letter 'b'. ��
I couldn't even log on to my hard disk; whenever I tried��
sneaking in the word 'HARD' it would come out 'BBHARD' or��
'HARDBB.' I tried all the things one does in these situations --��
things that you know won't and can't work but you do nevertheless��
in an attempt to fool yourself into thinking you're doing��
something about the problem, things designed to keep your mind��
from the awful truth that you've just done something terribly and��
sinfully stupid.
My guess was, and is, that a small amount of (sesame? ��
peanut?) oil had probably lodged itself immediately between the��
moving part of the key and the circuit board, thus making��
permanent the connection that is normally made only when the key��
is pressed.
The next day I called Qume's technical support staff in San��
Jose and connected to a fellow who was friendly, courteous and��
helpful. He explained in a friendly, courteous and helpful way��
that there was a good possibility that my keyboard was ruined;��
the Qumes have a thin plastic membrane coating the circuit board��
and if any oil or other liquid penetrated below this membrane I��
could purchase a new keyboard at such and such firm for $140. I��
had spent an unsuccessful evening before trying to fully remove��
the 'B' key mechanism from the keyboard in order to clean what��
was underneath, and he gave me what seemed to be good��
instructions to do just that, still with the reminder that if��
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, unhooking��
some latch on the sides of the spring. I tried it from the��
right, I tried it from the left, I tried a paper clip, I tried��
tweezers. I pulled it, I pulled it down, I jumped up and I��
jumped down and nothing I could do would dislodge that key��
mechanism. This being December 23th Qume was closed for the next��
4 days.��
Funny things happened to me during those next four��
days of computerlessness. I did things I hadn't done for years��
and from which I used to derive much pleasure: reading books,��
writing letters, catching up on months, even years, of unanswered��
correspondence. I talked to old friends on the phone with whom I��
had lost touch. Worst -- excuse me, I mean best -- of all, I��
even got to bed (generally) before midnight. I felt a great��
sense of peace, a rootedness and I hadn't known��
since April 1984 when I first trudged that box home from the��
store with my Morrow MD3 inside.
Actually enjoying the freedom from addiction, the next��
day I didn't even call Qume back! I went for a few more days��
experiencing this strange new life I was leading, finding it��
quite pleasant to continue in my drug-free ways. But I can only��
take a certain amount of serenity and tranquility and in a manic��
fit of utter centeredness, about ten days after the original��
accident, really just for the hell of it -- not expecting��
anything different -- I went over to my computer and hit the��
switch.
All that praying I'd been doing must have been on the right��
wavelength because the terminal was clean and motionless. No��
incessant scrolling of 'b's. What had happened? I didn't know��
and still to this day don't. Can something happen to oil in 10��
days that renders it non-electrically conductive? Or was it just��
water taking its own sweet time to dry? Strange properties of��
MSG? ��
In any case my hard disk soon installed itself -- and my��
system environment, resident command package and all the rest of��
my dear, long-lost friends were soon loading themselves into my��
sweet and dear 64,000 bytes of RAM. ��
And everything seemed to be fine until I hit my 'b' key. ��
Exhibiting that great principle in which irony weaves itself��
through the history of human enterprise, my 'b' key was now dead. ��
Nothing happened when I pressed it. I've always felt that irony��
was the fundamental energy animating the universe, and I guess��
someone up there must have decided to prove to me the correctness��
of my belief.
Actually though, I was so elated at having my computer back��
that it took a while to realize what was going on. After some �
minutes of typing however I was soon face to face with the cold,��
hard fact that I had no way of putting a 'b' into anything I was��
writing, much less reforming a VDE or WordStar paragraph with��
CTL-B. The first thing I did, though, upon having my computer��
back was to log onto all our wonderful Z-Nodes to say hello to my��
dear comrades. I was so happy to be back that I just assumed��
people wouldn't mind that my messages had blank spaces wherever��
the letter 'b' should have appeared.
I went on like this for a while, stupidly but moderately��
happy, until my roommate Wayne dropped into the living room to��
say hello. We chatted for a while and I explained what was going��
on. He's by no means computer-literate but spent some time years��
ago playing with early CP/M machines and hooking them up to music��
synthesizers and having a rather interesting time of it all. He��
seemed rather excited about an idea he had that he felt would��
solve my problem and started mumbling incoherently about ASCII��
values and don't I have a program that could send out the ASCII��
value for 'b'? I couldn't imagine how to implement what he was��
talking about and sent him on his way. I would have been glad to��
get a program to redefine any of my keys to a 'b', but how could��
I do so without being able to type the letter at least once?
It is said that when you stop thinking about something the��
solution will come to you, and anyway I think in this dialectical��
universe problems are always solved obliquely, but about 10��
minutes after I sent Wayne packing it came to me: FINREP!!!!! ��
The spirit of Eric Gans, though the flesh and blood persona��
having long left the Z80 world, came to this Z-lover and shook��
his shoulders. In any text I was writing I could simply enter a��
'dummy' character - '@', say - and then run��
FINREP filename // "@" 42
with 42h being of course the ASCII representation for 'b'. It was��
a wonderful idea! I ran in to Wayne's room to thank him and then��
back to the living room to write all sorts of new aliases. ��
I actually did this for an hour or so, towards the end of��
which getting a bit tired from the extra work, when all at once��
the better solution, the solution that I am now using, hit me. I��
run NUKEY.IOP, the Echelon key-redefinition input/output package. ��
It is the file NUKEY.IOP that contains the actual string��
redefinitions. I simply did a dummy redefinition of one of my��
function keys to 'z', then with a file patcher went into �
NUKEY.IOP and changed the 7Ah ('z') to 42. ��
I've now set fkey #4 to be upper-case 'B' and fkey #8 to be��
CTL-B and am computing the best I can with that. Am I doing OK? ��
Just by this document for yourself. That's how my problem was at��
least temporarily solved, and that's where I am today. If I can��
just remember to reach for function key #1 instead of the 'b' key��
-- assuredly not an easy feat -- I'm set. If I at some point��
decide I don't want to I may very well have to shell out $140 for��
that new keyboard. ��
It was a fun story to write, but it definitely may turn out��
to be the most expensive Chinese meal I've ever eaten.
- Rick Charnes
P.S. ** INCREDIBLE, AMAZING ADDENDUM JANUARY 6: THIS IS��
EXTRAORDINARY! I JUST TURNED MY COMPUTER ON -- ABOUT 3 WEEKS��
AFTER THE ACCIDENT -- AND THE 'B'/'b' KEY WORKS!! INCREDIBLE!! ��
How could this have happened? What a hobby this is... ��
P.P.S. January 23 -- After not touching my computer for 2 weeks��
while I was away: The 'b' again no longer works. What a hobby��
this is...
