It’s an analog, 20 note polyphonic, square wave synthesizer based on the 555 timer chip. The enclosure and keys are 3D-printed, its models were programmed in OpenSCAD, and its PCB was designed in Kicad.
I especially like the gallery of abandoned ideas on the path to making this.
At a well-run seed stage startup, engineers will often describe the work experience as intoxicating. At a larger company, the best you get is “enjoyable”. Why does this happen? Is it inevitable?
Intoxicating is exactly how I would describe many points in my career, and for many of these reasons. There is such a thrill to work in a tight feedback loop of ideas, implementations, and metrics.
Despite not having any footsteps to follow or a guidebook to consult for such an endeavor, Steve dreamed up a plan that would be unthinkable to most people, even today. He spent six months making meticulous arrangements and outfitting a custom recumbent touring bike with a solar-powered Radio Shack Model 100 portable computer that would allow him to keep in touch with his clients and publishers while living on the road full-time.
When we buy a physical product, we accept that it won’t change in its lifetime. We’ll use it until it wears off, and we replace it. We can rely on that product not evolving; the gas pedal in my car will always be in the same place.
However, when it comes to software, we usually have the ingrained expectations of perpetual updates. We believe that if software doesn’t evolve it’ll be boring, old and unusable. If we see an app with no updates in the last year, we think the creator might be dead.
Asked how much it costs to pay for the annual get-together, Hien and Hoang both wave their hands.
“We don’t care, we don’t count,” Hien said. “We owe them a debt, and this is a little token to them to return the favor. Come to eat, come to drink, stay as long as you want.”
There’s a growing sense that lots of different things in the world are related to one another and connected in ways that we are still discovering. It’s not quite religious, but it is amazing.
For the uninitiated, mourning the passing of the Harrington may seem as inconceivable as, say, tearing up over the closing of a Motel 6. But to its devotees — the generations of tourists, Boy Scout troops and school groups that came from all over; the regulars who drank Harry’s cheap beers and inhaled Ollieburgers — the Harrington is an unbuttoned oasis in an otherwise buttoned-up downtown.
I worked around the corner from this place in my first DC job and had my first day’s lunch with my boss at Harry’s. I’d hit Ollie’s for lunch on the regular. “Unbuttoned” is a great way to put it.