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The People of the Fruit
Feb
Jan 2008
It has happened to all of us. Guided by innocuous turns of fate, we find ourselves somewhere
familiar, but somehow minutely alien. Everyone looks hip and sophisticated—their
sunglasses too large, their neckties too thin. Powerful conversations and maniacal laughter
tear through the space. Then you realize, for all their fabulous uniqueness, everyone has the
same silver talisman unfolded before them. They are Apple computers. These are the people of
the fruit.
AYEEE! They’re everywhere!
The difference between Apple Macintosh computers and everything else defies simple explanation.
There’s not a profound disparity in price, features, or limitations. Placing the Mac alongside the
PC primarily reveals similarities. You can use a Mac or a PC to achieve most everything the typical
person does with a computer today: browse the web, send email, write documents, balance numbers
and play games. On these merits alone, choosing one over the other is a matter of personal preference.
Based on outward appearance, pick any one you like.
The Soul of a Machine
To most people, any computer is a pile of plastic and circuitry, meticulously arranged at tremendous
expense to serve some purpose. When you flip the switch, the silicon brains inside should come to
life and do your bidding. It is no different than a car or a toaster; it is a tool not for transforming
bread or traversing distances but for manipulating information. A computer should simply compute.
For the entire history of these machines, however, there has been another perspective. Operating in the
quiet enclaves of research labs and design studios, bright-eyed, sun-starved geniuses labor endlessly to
design computer hardware and software. They are less like makers and more like parents, nurturing their
creations until they take flight into the marketplace. To the inventors, the machine has a soul.
Consumers purchasing a computer are likewise becoming more like potential adopters of a new family pet.
Perhaps subconsciously, we question the personality of the computer. We wonder about compatibility—not
only with our old software applications but with our mindsets, beliefs and practiced routines. The computer
is a life fixture. We want one we like and that at least behaves as if it likes us back.
Raymond and Jonny
Countless unsung individuals created the Mac and PC. Only two, however, wholly epitomize the soul of each
respective machine. They are both crucial employees and humble visionaries: Raymond Chen of Microsoft and
Jonathan Ive of Apple Computer.
Raymond Chen and Jonathan Ive. Should I make you guess which is which?
One of these men is quirky and pedantic, and reserves little patience for those who ask him questions they could have
easily answered with a Google search. He loves the symphony and became proficient in Swedish, German and
Mandarin Chinese on a whim. He is Raymond Chen, the unofficial Microsoft apologist. He responds artfully to
any critique of the Windows operating system, demonstrating with frighteningly encyclopedic depth
why the decision made was the right one at the time. Raymond is the chivalrous knight defending his maiden’s
honor. He is ever faithful but exceedingly honest. He hides neither truth nor flaw.
Apple Computer has Jonathan Ive. Despite a slate of international awards and an official Commander of the
British Empire title from the Queen herself, Wired Magazine reports he “is accessible and friendly, almost
egoless.” Ive is quiet and seems almost confused by his celebrity. His contribution arises through smooth
chamfers built from extruded plastics, adhesion of metal and polymer to form the breathtaking shape of iPods
and PowerBook laptops. A Jonny Ive design expresses its purpose and meaning in the world. Like a human face,
you can see into the soul of the machine.
Both are men of principle and character, both unquestioned experts in their field. Chen and Ive both signed on
to their current employer in 1992. Their differences personify the distinction between Macs and PCs—one
ardently crafted and repeatedly defended by an engineer; the other willed into sublime existence by an artist.
Microsoft Windows, as birthed by Raymond Chen and his colleagues, is an enormous system built to span eternity.
The caretakers strive to ensure that every third-party application and peripheral ever created will continue to function, no matter how
awful its design. New advances for the PC are checked against this immutable requirement, a Hippocratic oath for
the computer age. Windows shall forever be backward-compatible.
The products released by Apple Computer as directed by Jonathan Ive are a crystalline essence of one decisive moment.
This is the ultimate design for today, not a compromise that ensures operation tomorrow or consistency with the past.
By this philosophy, a battery-operated music player does not need a service panel to replace the batteries, and a
new laptop can sacrifice a CD/DVD drive for a thinner, smaller footprint. An entire user interface, successively
refined over the course of a decade, can be instantly dropped and replaced with totally new paradigms. Apple trades
away the challenging legacy of the past and the promise to maintain the future for an awesome moment in the present.
The Mac is the machine of right now.
Enter the Analogies
We choose between Jonny and Raymond, between Mac and PC. The calming, silky screen of an iPhone is a siren. Time spent
with an Apple computer is the like a radiant, life-altering first date. You never dreamed it could happen, and cruel
reality will strike at any moment. But the PC is a faithful friend; never exactly beautiful but unswervingly loyal. The
PC works hard but is just not as much fun.
The Mac is the Italian sports car, sold at elite dealerships and tuned to ergonomic nirvana. You automatically meet
attractive people when driving, and although there is no practical reason to attempt it, you are convinced you could outrun
a jet airplane. But gas is expensive, the trunk doesn’t hold much, parts are hard to find, and nobody is impressed by
last year’s model. A PC is a truck, generally reliable but not perfect. You can haul anything and get anybody to
service an aging engine. It won’t win any beauty contests against the hot rod, or really, any contests at all. The
truck simply transports.
By worsening analogy, the PC is the tortoise and the Mac is the hare. The PC is the enduring, painstaking imperfection
of a painting, and the Mac is the single moment of a photograph. The PC is the mule and the Mac the stallion. The
PC is a can of soup and the Mac is fresh, but rapidly expiring ingredients. The PC is strength through numbers, the Mac
strength through obscurity. The PC is the freedom and the risk to choose any hardware manufacturer, be it Dell, HP, IBM,
Toshiba, Panasonic or your local shop. The Mac is only made by Apple, guaranteeing seamless integration but eliminating
your freedom to choose. The selection of bad comparison, as well as final purchase, is yours to make.
The Cult of Mac
The minds of Raymond Chen and Jonathan Ive mark the distinction between the design of Macs and PCs. Those who use them,
however, form two different cultures. Or rather, those who own Macs, the “people of the fruit”, seem somehow separate
from everyone else.
Purchase an Apple, and you will find yourself almost inescapably pulled into this unofficial community. You will become,
in the words of the Apple faithful, a “switcher.” The transition to the small cadre of Macintosh users will connect you
with an elite group of enthusiasts. The rarity of Macs—less than 7% of all computers sold to consumers—shall
direct your fate. No vendor aiming for the mass market will target Apple computers as anything but an afterthought, and
likewise, no malicious creator of viruses or destructive software will aim to wreak havoc on a tiny minority. But numbers
are not important to the Apple faithful. They think of themselves as advocates, as the kind of folks Margaret Mead
describes with the famous quote: “Never doubt that a small group of thoughtful, committed citizens can change the world.”
The Last Bite
Macs and PCs are not all that different. It is the people who make them, and by extension, those who bring them home
which define two worlds. You should buy the machine with the soul closest to your own. Choose Jonny or Raymond.
Choose Mac or PC.
Further Reading:
Would you like to leave a comment?
Read this.
###
Tracy Kidder’s story of rival teams of engineers in The Soul of a New Machine
is one of the most important works in the history of technology. What’s unbelievable
is that he wrote the Pulitzer Prize winner back in 1981. It’s about
a machine and a company you never heard of, the Data General Eclipse/MV 8000.
Amazon
Why can’t Windows tell you exactly how long it will
take to copy a file? We’re tempted to blame
Microsoft as usual. But as Raymond reports, the
real reason is because Windows can’t predict the
future. If you’re trying to guess the winning time
of a marathon, the last ten minutes are a much
better time to make your estimate than the first
ten minutes! Here’s Raymond’s own
In The Cult of Mac, author Leander Kahney oozes with adoration for
the computer and the Apple faithful. “Cult” is not derogatory, but self-appointed.
Mac users love their macs.
