Everyone who jammed into the Yerba Buena Center for the Arts in San Francisco on January 27, 2010, knew what they were there for: Apple CEO Steve Jobs’ introduction of a thin, always-on tablet device that would let people browse the Web, read books, send email, watch movies, and play games. It was also no surprise that the 1.5-pound iPad resembled an I Phone, right down to the single black button nestled below the bright 10-inch screen.
Everyone who jammed into the Yerba Buena Center for the Arts in San Francisco on January 27, 2010, knew what they were there for: Apple CEO Steve Jobs’ introduction of a thin, always-on tablet device that would let people browse the Web, read books, send email, watch movies, and play games. It was also no surprise that the 1.5-pound iPad resembled an I Phone, right down to the single black button nestled below the bright 10-inch screen. But about an hour into the presentation, Apple showed something unexpected — something that not many people even noticed. In addition to the lean-back sorts of activities one expects from a tablet (demonstrated by Jobs while relaxing in a comfy black armchair), there was a surprising pitch for the iPad as a lean-forward device, one that runs a revamped version of Apple’s I Work productivity apps. In many ways, Jobs claimed, the I Pad would be better than pricier laptops and desktops as a tool for high-end word processing and spreadsheets. If anyone missed the point, Apple’s design guru Jonathan I’ve gushed in a promotional video that the iPad wasn’t just a cool new way to gobble up media — it was blazing a path to the future of computing.
Even though the I Pad looks like an I Phone built for the supersize inhabitants of Pandora, its ambitions are as much about shrinking our laptops as about stretching our smart phones. Yes, the I Pad is designed for reading, gaming, and media consumption. But it also represents an ambitious rethinking of how we use computers. No more files and folders, physical keyboards and mousse. Instead, the I Pad offers a streamlined yet powerful intuitive experience that’s psychically in tune with our mobile, attention-challenged, super-connected new century. Instant-on power. Lightning-fast multi touch response. Native applications downloaded from a single source that simplifies purchases, organizes updates, and ensures security. Apple has even developed a custom chip, the A4, that both powers the machine and helps extend its battery life to 10 hours. The I Pad’s price puts it in the zone of high-end net books: $500 for a basic 16-gig, Wi-Fi-only model. (A version with AT&T 3G connectivity will cost $130 more, plus $30 a month for unlimited data.) But don’t call it a net book, a category Jobs went out of his way to trash as a crummy compromise. The I Pad is the first embodiment of an entirely new category, one that Jobs hopes will write the obituary for the computing paradigm that Apple itself helped develop. If Jobs has his way, before long we may be using our laptops primarily as base stations for syncing our I Pads.
The fact is, the way we use computers is outmoded. The graphical user interface that’s still part of our daily existence was forged in the 1960s and ’70s, even before IBM got into the PC business. Most of the software we use today has its origins in the pre-Internet era, when storage was at a premium, machines ran thousands of times slower, and applications were sold in shrink-wrapped boxes for hundreds of dollars. With the I Pad, Apple is making its play to become the center of a post-PC era. But to succeed, it will have to beat out the other familiar powerhouses that are working to define and dominate the future.
There’s a lot to love about Apple’s vision. As we start to establish the conventions made possible by advanced multi touch, we’ll perform ever more complicated tasks by rolling, tapping, and drumming our fingers on screens, like pianists tickling the ivories. The iTunes App Store model gives us a safe and easy means to get powerful programs at low prices. Rigidly enforced standards of aesthetics will ensure that the I Pad remains an easy-to-navigate no-clutter zone. And since we’re obligated to link our credit cards to Apple, micropayments are built in, providing traditional media companies with at least a hope of avoiding the poorhouse.
But there’s also a lot to worry about. It’s a pain to lug around an external keyboard, which many people will require if they’re serious about banging out documents. (My brief exposure to the I Pad’s onscreen keyboard wasn’t encouraging.) Apple’s system is closed in a way that the Mac (and even Windows) OS never was — all apps are cleared through Cupertino, and developers and publishers are a step removed from their users, who make transactions through the App Store.
Indeed, Microsoft seems locked into producing somewhat improved versions of those programs every few years. That means a decade from now, Microsoft’s answer to the challenges from Apple and Google will be… yet another Windows upgrade. I ask Muncie whether we will see a Windows 10. “Sure, from a brand point of view,” he says. Will it resemble the Windows we know and, um, love? “Who knows?”
One thing we do know is that a heated battle is breaking out over the grave site of the GUI. While unveiling the most heralded Apple product since the I Phone, Jobs presented a powerful and compelling vision of what comes next. Now he will have to fend off some tough rivals — and tough criticism — to make that vision a reality.
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