One and ZERO – Part 01
illustrations by Cash Money
Drawing from a collective unconscious (in which his belief is tenuous at best), Cash asked me why the ones and zeroes in one computer weren’t any good to another. Why can’t we just hook an Atari cartridge up to a Windows machine and have it work?
I promised him that I would explain it. I promised him that the expansion of your mind would be collateral damage.
Eeeverybody knows that what happens inside a computer can be fundamentally broken down into 1 and 0, over and over and over again. Too bad that’s WRONG. The inside of a computer is not a blackboard. It’s not your math homework. Stop watching ReBoot, because you will never see tiny digits racing purposefully around in your laptop’s innards.
What a computer is is a myriad of tiny automatic electrical switches, discerning not 1 from 0, but rather ON from OFF.
The simplest computer you use each day is a light switch. You want light, so you input a perfectly simple program with the switch on the wall. You flip the toggle, an internal mechanism connects electrical wires, and somewhere in the room that electricity fires up a light bulb. You don’t enter 1 or 0 or anything else into that switch. You just turn it ON and the mechanism does its thing.
If turning on (or off) a light bulb is a dead-simple program, a slightly more complex one gets a train to its destination over a series of track switches. At each junction the train can be switched to the right or the left, like a squirrel choosing which branches to follow as it climbs a tree. Left-left-right-left will get the train to a different location than right-left-left-right. We can say that one place is Topeka and the other is St. Louis, but as far as the train is concerned it’s enough to say left-left-right-left and right-left-left-right. On-on-off-on and off-on-on-off. Those tiny sequences of data are programs, or at least commands, which lead consistently to the same result.







