The April 1926 issue of “Science and Invention” had a fascinating graphic. It explained, for the curious, how a photo of a rescue at sea could be in the New York papers almost immediately. It was the modern miracle of the wire photo. But how did the picture get from Plymouth, England, to New York so quickly? Today, that’s no big deal, but set your wayback machine to a century ago.
Of course, the answer is analog fax. But think about it. How would you create an analog fax machine in 1926? The graphic is quite telling. (Click on it to enlarge, you won’t be disappointed.)
If you are like us, when you first saw it you thought: “Oh, sure, paper tape.” But a little more reflection makes you realize that solves nothing. How do you actually scan the photo onto the paper tape, and how can you reconstitute it on the other side? The paper tape is clearly digital, right? How do you do an analog-to-digital converter in 1926? Continue reading “Picture By Paper Tape”→
Even in the early days of the Cold War, it quickly became apparent that simply having hundreds or even thousands of nuclear weapons would never be a sufficient deterrent to atomic attack. For nuclear weapons to be anything other than expensive ornaments, they have to be part of an engineered system that guarantees that they’ll work when they’re called upon to do so, and only then. And more importantly, your adversaries need to know that you’ve made every effort to make sure they go boom, and that they can’t interfere with that process.
In practical terms, nuclear deterrence is all about redundancy. There can be no single point of failure anywhere along the nuclear chain of command, and every system has to have a backup with multiple backups. That’s true inside every component of the system, from the warheads that form the sharp point of the spear to the systems that control and command those weapons, and especially in the systems that relay the orders that will send the missiles and bombers on their way.
When the fateful decision to push the button is made, Cold War planners had to ensure that the message got through. Even though they had a continent-wide system of radios and telephone lines that stitched together every missile launch facility and bomber base at their disposal, planners knew how fragile all that infrastructure could be, especially during a nuclear exchange. When the message absolutely, positively has to get through, you need a way to get above all that destruction, and so they came up with the Emergency Rocket Communication System, or ERCS.
Open any consumer electronics catalog from around the 1980s to the early 2000s and you are overwhelmed by a smörgåsbord of devices, covering any audio-visual and similar entertainment and hobby needs one might have. Depending on the era you can find the camcorders, point-and-shoot film and digital cameras right next to portable music players, cellphones, HiFi sets and tower components, televisions and devices like DVD players and VCRs, all of them in a dizzying amount of brands, shapes and colors that are sure to fit anyone’s needs, desires and budget.
When by the late 2000s cellphones began to absorb more and more of the features of these devices alongside much improved cellular Internet access, these newly minted ‘smartphones’ were hailed as a technological revolution that combined so many consumer electronics into a single device. Unlike the relatively niche feature phones, smartphones absolutely took off.
Fast-forward more than a decade and the same catalogs now feature black rectangles identified respectively as smart phones, smart TVs and tablets, alongside evenly colored geometric shapes that identify as smart speakers and other devices. While previously the onus for this change was laid by this author primarily on the death of industrial design, the elephant in the room would seem to be that consumer electronics are suffering from a terminal disease: subscription services.
When do you think the first podcast occurred? Did you guess in the 1890s? That’s not a typo. Telefonhírmondó was possibly the world’s first true “telephone newspaper.” People in Budapest could dial a phone number and listen to what we would think of now as radio content. Surprisingly, the service lasted until 1944, although after 1925, it was rebroadcasting a radio station’s programming.
Tivadar Puskás, the founder of Budapest’s “Telephone Newspaper” (public domain)
The whole thing was the brainchild of Tivadar Puskás, an engineer who had worked with Thomas Edison. At first, the service had about 60 subscribers, but Puskás envisioned the service one day spanning the globe. Of course, he wasn’t wrong. There was a market for worldwide audio programs, but they were not going to travel over phone lines to the customer.
The Hungarian government kept tight control over newspapers in those days. However, as we see in modern times, new media often slips through the cracks. After two weeks of proving the concept out, Puskás asked for formal approval and for a 50-year exclusive franchise for the city of Budapest. They would eventually approve the former, but not the latter.
Unfortunately, a month into the new venture, Puskás died. His brother Albert took over and continued talks with the government. The phone company wanted a piece of the action, as did the government. Before anything was settled, Albert sold the company to István Popper. He finalized the deal, which included rules requiring signed copies of the news reports to be sent to the police three times a day. The affair must have been lucrative. The company would eventually construct its own telephone network independent of the normal phone system. By 1907, they boasted 15,000 subscribers, including notable politicians and businesses, including hotels. Continue reading “The World’s First Podcaster?”→
Many people have looked Death in the eye sockets and survived to tell others about it, but few situations speak as much to the imagination as situations where there’s absolutely zero prospect of rescuers swooping in. Top among these is the harrowing tale of the Apollo 13 moon mission and its crew – commanded by James “Jim” Lovell – as they found themselves stranded in space far away from Earth in a crippled spacecraft, facing near-certain doom.
Lovell and his crew came away from that experience in one piece, with millions tuning into the live broadcast on April 17 of 1970 as the capsule managed to land safely back on Earth, defying all odds. Like so many NASA astronauts, Lovell was a test pilot. He graduated from the US Naval Academy in Maryland, serving in the US Navy as a mechanical engineer, flight instructor and more, before being selected as NASA astronaut.
On August 7, 2025, Lovell died at the age of 97 at his home in Illinois, after a dizzying career that saw a Moon walk swapped for an in-space rescue mission like never seen before.
You don’t have to be a Snow Crash or Tron fan to be familiar with the 3D craze that characterized the rise of the Internet and the World Wide Web in particular. From phrases like ‘surfing the information highway’ to sectioning websites as if to represent 3D real-life equivalents or sorting them by virtual streets like Geocities did, there has always been a strong push to make the Internet a more three-dimensional experience.
This is perhaps not so strange considering that we humans are ourselves 3D beings used to interacting in a 3D world. Surely we could make this fancy new ‘Internet’ technology do something more futuristic than connect us to text-based BBSes and serve HTML pages with heavily dithered images?
Enter VRML, the Virtual Reality Modelling Language, whose 3D worlds would surely herald the arrival of a new Internet era. Though neither VRML nor its successor X3D became a hit, they did leave their marks and are arguably the reason why we have technologies like WebGL today.
The MOS Technology 6502 is a microprocessor which casts a long shadow over the world of computing. Many of you will know it as the beating heart of so many famous 8-bit machines from the likes of Commodore, Apple, Acorn, and more, and it has retained enough success for a version to remain in production today. It’s still a surprise though, to note that this part is now fifty years old. Though there are several contenders for its birthday, the first adverts for it were in print by July 1975, and the first customers bought their chips in September of that year. It’s thus only fitting that in August 2025, we give this processor a retrospective.
The Moment Motorola Never Really Recovered From
The advert that started it all. MOS Technology, Public domain.
The story of the 6502’s conception is a fascinating tale of how the giants of the early mocroprocessor industry set about grappling with these new machines. In the earlier half of the 1970s, Chuck Peddle worked for Motorola, whose 6800 microprocessor reached the market in 1974. The 6800 was for its time complex, expensive, and difficult to manufacture, and Peddle’s response to this was a far simpler device with a slimmed-down instruction set that his contact with customers had convinced him the market was looking for: the 6502.
There’s a tale of Motorola officially ordering him to stop working on this idea, something he would later assert as such an abandonment of the technology that he could claim the IP for himself. Accompanied by a group of his Motorola 6800 colleagues, in the summer of 1974 he jumped ship for MOS Technology to pursue the design. What first emerged was the 6501, a chip pin-compatible with the 6800, followed soon after by the 6502, with the same core, but with an on-board clock oscillator. Continue reading “Happy Birthday 6502”→