Presto Chango!
Presto bounded past the Pet Registrars and into the subleased web production room. It was the center of his universe, where web-making magic happened. He filled the few hours in between classes with web grax and HTML.
He was the best coder in the place… he could do a little of everything and do it well. Like a magician… maybe that’s why the name stuck. But oh, how he HATED the nickname. Last week he asked his boss, coiner of the name, to stop calling him “Presto”. Boss refused with a dejected expression, explaining that only this endearing shorthand would suit the magic man in his shop.
Indeed, so many of his colleagues found him endearing. He was a young and driven dude, with a face to charm the hardest of hearts, a short and nimble frame, and an unusual penchant for 1940’s Swing music. An unlikely package of new and old school, when “new” was “in”.
The entire cramped room, of hot computers and oft-studious coworkers, loved his music. It often dueled in the air with Bone’s variety of tunes: from Blues to 80’s Dance.
The residence of these two sometime-“DJs” kept the startup web agency hopping. As long as the system sounds stayed piped down, the din didn’t bother their client down the hall. Stuck in the sublease for a few more weeks, they awaited the time when they could blast it all day long, as loud as they wanted.
But today was notably quieter, as Young Presto walked in with Walkman in tow. The cool throwback cat often carried cassette dubs of old Swing records in his backpack. The long play “CD Power” cassettes were his favorite… best quality sound, and one long-play tape in a Walkman could carry him all day: across treks from class to class, and to the web agency.
Suddenly his mind wandered from his Photoshop 3 and HTML. When did I last demagnetize my playhead? Maybe he subliminally picked up on the warbly horn section, because within seconds his Walkman jammed.
Ugh, he winced, quickly extracting the tape and grabbing a pencil to wind its innards back up. His mind wandered deep into tape player mechanics: I need to find my sandpaper and alcohol… need to clean the rubber wheels… too much slippage in running that tape… why didn’t I demagnetize it sooner?
With mild irritation, and fresh out of a tape player, he realized that new means awaited to satisfy his Swing urge. Technology faced rapid change in his world. Right there in front of him sat a high-tech computer next to a low-tech Walkman. His burgeoning career in web development set a clear life path: one non-existent mere years earlier. And a truth emerged — Walkman had no place.
Simultaneously however, his mind rebelled. Technology already messed up music, he thought. Sterile electronica, tainted by machines. And digital downloads sound AWFUL. Give me a good Gene Krupa drum, some live horns, and a warm LP sound and I’m good, Presto thought to himself.
But with Walkman decommissioned, and a beckoning high-speed connection at the office, Napster sneaked up on his screen. He bargained to himself in that moment: OK, but cassettes, records and CDs will still rule my music collection.
As day melted into night, connection even faster as the office emptied, Presto’s computer speakers filled the air with Swing. The darkened production room set the stage for night of web making.
As always, I hope you enjoyed this and it brightened your day.
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