The Wonder Years

When I Was just a kid—especially in my tween years—I discovered the joy of Taking Things Apart. As I reflect back, this was a major stage in my lifelong pursuit of understanding the world around me. Clocks and radios trembled in my presence, for they knew that their days were numbered. This was the age in which vacuum tube radios were still in plentiful supply as they were quickly being replaced by more modern transistor radios. What else could one do to an obsolete radio? Why, take it apart, of course! Over time, I accumulated a large collection of capacitors, resistors, inductors, and various other detritus harvested from the rich pickings of many an old radio. To further my curiosity, I would visit our local library as often as I could, searching for the latest book on electronics that would help me understand what all the parts did and how I might bring them together in new, interesting ways, especially in ways that created sparks, smoke, or smells. Clocks were another source of destructive joy. The great thing about mechanical clocks and watches is that they have so many moving parts. In particular, I remember a much loved pocket watch. While it worked, I would often remove its back and observe the action of its gears, marvelling at how they were so cunningly fashioned. I take responsibility for hastening its demise, thanks to my enthusiastic overwinding. But, to me, this was not a loss but a grand opportunity to take it apart so that I might understand its operation. As a side note, perhaps as an act of unconscious penance and certainly in remembrance of these clocks past, I have a reproduction of a wooden clock from 1335 in my office. Its steady ticking amid the frenzy of the billions upon billions of transistors in all the computers that surround me offers a comforting contrast. And that’s the thing: If you take apart a software-intensive object such as a smartphone or a laptop, what do you see? Very, very little.