Walking around with a small instrument and trying to type is much slower than writing.
How common would handwriting be in a future society?
- Thread starter Brian Smaller
- Start date
Walking around with a small instrument and trying to type is much slower than writing.
Sure, but in the underground you can see many people typing their tablets/phones, and I have doubts noise would allow voice recognizing systems working there...
Sitting while while doing that is one thing. Working while walking around is another thing. It is much faster to write and, for most people, they don't have to look as much while writing. Touch typing (not looking at the keyboard) is easier with two hands. I don't see voice working in noisy environments either.
Sifu Blackirish
SOC-14 1K
Sifu strolls in...
Have a seat. I have a little story to tell you...
from novel TERRAN EXODUS, story THINK TANK AND BEYOND
(2078, 13 August)
There were exceptional people aboard Think Tank who did not panic. That was good, especially considering their unique circumstances. Admittedly, having a massive chunk of iron transfer three hundred fifty thousand kilometers in fifteen seconds would be an unnerving experience for anyone. Despite this trauma inducing event, patient skilled workers followed long established contingency procedures. It was reassuring to see that someone was thinking ahead.
Gradually the facility regained its composure, and people began to recover from their near catastrophe. Security operatives and data recovery technicians, cross trained in medical procedures and working in pairs, moved into zones of damage and destruction in an attempt to gain knowledge and hopefully save lives. What would they find?
“I’m locked and loaded, recorder on. Let‘s do this!”
“My recorder is running as well. Ready to go, Callek. Jacking in now.”
A handheld device is connected to a computer controlled blast rated door. Seconds later an override code forced unresponsive locks open and they could gain access.
“Who occupies this space?”
Callek looked at his display.
“Doctor Emerson Greene, post-doctorate physics specialist in cosmology, doctorate in mathematics, doctorate pending in electronics and engineering. Patron unknown, no data sharing. Never seen outside of this lab, has never taken leave on Terra.”
Larmon looked at his security partner, shaking his head slowly.
“Just what we need, another close-mouthed brainiac with an almost fanatical loyalty to his unknown sponsor.”
They moved into an almost bare reception area.
“Callek, was there anyone else working with him?”
“Nope. Security logs show his patron has been visually identified as Michael Jones. He makes occasional visits, but he has a platinum access pass. At that level, no biometric confirmation data is supplied.”
“No local security scan on file?”
“None. All read attempts were scanned after his departure, all were scrambled. Try hacking the local node from here while I make a sweep.”
Larmon jacked into the computer’s local node and let his handcomp use its internal programs to interrogate this isolated computer system. He watched as it patiently used increasingly sophisticated algorithms in an attempt to locate sensitive information. He did not know how much time had passed before Callek returned.
“You need to come see this.”
Larmon left his interrogation unit running and followed him into the main lab area. What he saw was astounding.
A perfect spherical void remains after everything else in that area of the lab was destroyed. Where the sphere’s radius impacted any material, they see a totally smooth surface, polished to a mirror finish. What loose objects remained near the void had surfaces sheared smooth as well, a reminder of their close proximity to disaster.
“What is that wire mesh in the wall?”
Larmon looked at one section, where three busbars as thick as his leg had been neatly sheared off. A finely woven net of wires in multiple layers could be seen surrounding them.
“I would guess it is part of a Faraday cage, used to isolate an area from ambient electromagnetic energy. Anything inside is completely free from outside energy disruptions. I just wonder why someone would need it up here.”
Callek made another circuit of the main lab while his partner made measurements.
“This sphere is exactly twenty three meters in diameter.”
“Here’s a few pieces of paper I found scattered around.”
Callek dropped them on a small desk and turned away to continue his security sweep.
Larmon carefully photographed the wrinkled papers, not yet trying to read almost illegible scribbles. Then he placed them into preserving plastic sheets. After they were sealed, he began to read in an attempt to shuffle them into chronological order. Despite his professionalism, he frowned as he tried to recognize pieces of data.
“These notes cover approximately the previous week. It’s hard to read his scribbles, but I can understand some of it. He was apparently working on several projects at once. A prototype of what he called a tau shunt power tap was a power source for something he called a G-space dimensional inducer field.”
“Does that make any sense?” Callek’s voice came from across the room.
“I can usually decipher technical writing, but the occasional math I see here doesn’t match up with standard notation. If I understand what he was trying to do, it looks like everything here was pulled into what was probably an artificially generated wormhole. Think Tank almost literally disappeared due to these experiments.”
“Larmon, get over here!”
He dropped a sheet he was trying to read and carefully negotiated debris while walking over to where Callek stood by an open door.
“Looks like your brainiac was a fanatic about other things as well.”
They were looking into a small closet Greene had converted into a private writing and study area. Stacks of notebooks in random sizes were in two piles against one short wall. Each stack was almost a meter high. There were a few open volumes lying on a small desk, showing a neat closely spaced print. Larmon carefully photographed everything as it was, without touching anything.
When he had saved a complete series of what was visible on a non volatile memory card, he delicately picked up one tattered notebook. Stained and wrinkled pages stared back at him. Some of them are almost obliterated by cross outs and additional notations.
“This one has the oldest entries I can see. They go clear back to 2045. Who keeps notes on paper in longhand anymore?”
Callek did not answer. He was making another security sweep, returning just after Larmon flipped through to another section. He was still trying to read more script and unconventional mathematical notations.
“There’s no blood, no first aid kit residue, no sign of a body. All I found was a pair of old style eyeglasses. Whatever happened here completely destroyed him.”
“Let’s leave everything just as it is. We need to call in more teams to process all of this information.”
Larmon carefully set the tattered notebook on the table and backed away.
As far as any outside parties knew, the volumes of notes and remaining experimental apparatus simply disappeared.
#
Have a seat. I have a little story to tell you...
from novel TERRAN EXODUS, story THINK TANK AND BEYOND
(2078, 13 August)
There were exceptional people aboard Think Tank who did not panic. That was good, especially considering their unique circumstances. Admittedly, having a massive chunk of iron transfer three hundred fifty thousand kilometers in fifteen seconds would be an unnerving experience for anyone. Despite this trauma inducing event, patient skilled workers followed long established contingency procedures. It was reassuring to see that someone was thinking ahead.
Gradually the facility regained its composure, and people began to recover from their near catastrophe. Security operatives and data recovery technicians, cross trained in medical procedures and working in pairs, moved into zones of damage and destruction in an attempt to gain knowledge and hopefully save lives. What would they find?
“I’m locked and loaded, recorder on. Let‘s do this!”
“My recorder is running as well. Ready to go, Callek. Jacking in now.”
A handheld device is connected to a computer controlled blast rated door. Seconds later an override code forced unresponsive locks open and they could gain access.
“Who occupies this space?”
Callek looked at his display.
“Doctor Emerson Greene, post-doctorate physics specialist in cosmology, doctorate in mathematics, doctorate pending in electronics and engineering. Patron unknown, no data sharing. Never seen outside of this lab, has never taken leave on Terra.”
Larmon looked at his security partner, shaking his head slowly.
“Just what we need, another close-mouthed brainiac with an almost fanatical loyalty to his unknown sponsor.”
They moved into an almost bare reception area.
“Callek, was there anyone else working with him?”
“Nope. Security logs show his patron has been visually identified as Michael Jones. He makes occasional visits, but he has a platinum access pass. At that level, no biometric confirmation data is supplied.”
“No local security scan on file?”
“None. All read attempts were scanned after his departure, all were scrambled. Try hacking the local node from here while I make a sweep.”
Larmon jacked into the computer’s local node and let his handcomp use its internal programs to interrogate this isolated computer system. He watched as it patiently used increasingly sophisticated algorithms in an attempt to locate sensitive information. He did not know how much time had passed before Callek returned.
“You need to come see this.”
Larmon left his interrogation unit running and followed him into the main lab area. What he saw was astounding.
A perfect spherical void remains after everything else in that area of the lab was destroyed. Where the sphere’s radius impacted any material, they see a totally smooth surface, polished to a mirror finish. What loose objects remained near the void had surfaces sheared smooth as well, a reminder of their close proximity to disaster.
“What is that wire mesh in the wall?”
Larmon looked at one section, where three busbars as thick as his leg had been neatly sheared off. A finely woven net of wires in multiple layers could be seen surrounding them.
“I would guess it is part of a Faraday cage, used to isolate an area from ambient electromagnetic energy. Anything inside is completely free from outside energy disruptions. I just wonder why someone would need it up here.”
Callek made another circuit of the main lab while his partner made measurements.
“This sphere is exactly twenty three meters in diameter.”
“Here’s a few pieces of paper I found scattered around.”
Callek dropped them on a small desk and turned away to continue his security sweep.
Larmon carefully photographed the wrinkled papers, not yet trying to read almost illegible scribbles. Then he placed them into preserving plastic sheets. After they were sealed, he began to read in an attempt to shuffle them into chronological order. Despite his professionalism, he frowned as he tried to recognize pieces of data.
“These notes cover approximately the previous week. It’s hard to read his scribbles, but I can understand some of it. He was apparently working on several projects at once. A prototype of what he called a tau shunt power tap was a power source for something he called a G-space dimensional inducer field.”
“Does that make any sense?” Callek’s voice came from across the room.
“I can usually decipher technical writing, but the occasional math I see here doesn’t match up with standard notation. If I understand what he was trying to do, it looks like everything here was pulled into what was probably an artificially generated wormhole. Think Tank almost literally disappeared due to these experiments.”
“Larmon, get over here!”
He dropped a sheet he was trying to read and carefully negotiated debris while walking over to where Callek stood by an open door.
“Looks like your brainiac was a fanatic about other things as well.”
They were looking into a small closet Greene had converted into a private writing and study area. Stacks of notebooks in random sizes were in two piles against one short wall. Each stack was almost a meter high. There were a few open volumes lying on a small desk, showing a neat closely spaced print. Larmon carefully photographed everything as it was, without touching anything.
When he had saved a complete series of what was visible on a non volatile memory card, he delicately picked up one tattered notebook. Stained and wrinkled pages stared back at him. Some of them are almost obliterated by cross outs and additional notations.
“This one has the oldest entries I can see. They go clear back to 2045. Who keeps notes on paper in longhand anymore?”
Callek did not answer. He was making another security sweep, returning just after Larmon flipped through to another section. He was still trying to read more script and unconventional mathematical notations.
“There’s no blood, no first aid kit residue, no sign of a body. All I found was a pair of old style eyeglasses. Whatever happened here completely destroyed him.”
“Let’s leave everything just as it is. We need to call in more teams to process all of this information.”
Larmon carefully set the tattered notebook on the table and backed away.
As far as any outside parties knew, the volumes of notes and remaining experimental apparatus simply disappeared.
#
