Airline web systems should let you go somewhere else after a major weather event

During the first March nor’easter storm I had a ticket from Dallas to Boston, nonstop on Americn Airlines. About 12 hours before the flight, American emailed to say that the flight had been canceled. Shortly after that, American emailed to say that I had automatically been rebooked for the Dallas to Boston trip via a 9-hour ordeal with a long stop in LaGuardia. Although there were American planes leaving DFW every minute for various destinations, many of which were also served by nonstop flights to Boston, there was no way for me to say “I acknowledge that I’m not getting back to Boston for two days, but I would like to sit this one out in Florida rather than Dallas”. Why not? Wouldn’t that be a common customer desire?

I figured I would try to arrange this over the phone. I spent one hour and 9 minutes on hold and then gave up. I did manage to execute on my plan, though. I purchased a ticket on Southwest to DCA and spent two days with family before purchasing a DCA-BOS leg (arriving at roughly the same time as American’s automated reroute).

To American’s credit, when I called them about 30 hours later they did answer the phone after a 5-minute hold and they refunded my fare for DFW-BOS. But due to the lack of a Web interface for my “take me somewhere else” request, they gave up the revenue for the Dallas-DC leg. I actually would have been willing to kick in an extra $500 to wait in the city of my choice. And American refunded me about $500. So they gave up $1,000 in revenue because they couldn’t answer the phone and couldn’t handle the request via their web site.

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Painting and sealing a garage floor that was previously covered with sand and paint?

Suburban heroes needed…

We rent a small hangar with an underlying asphalt floor. Perhaps 30 years ago a previous tenant painted this floor with what seems to have been a lot of sand mixed in (for anti-slip?). Now this coating is disintegrating and every time we go into the hangar there is a seemingly huge amount of sand to be pushed out with a broom and/or vacuumed.

Sand plus airplane is a bad combination because people walk up on the wing to get in.

Keeping in mind that we are renters and don’t want to invest a huge amount of $$, what can we do to seal this floor? We don’t care about aesthetics. It would be okay, for example, if the floor were to show tire tracks. Note that the airplane parked inside is somewhat lighter than a typical car, roughly 2,500 lbs. when fully fueled, but there are only three tires and they are not as wide as car tires.

Home Depot sells epoxy floor paint. If we were to clean up and dry the existing floor, would that likely work to seal in the remaining sand? Customer reviews are not promising, with dire tales of peeling and flaking.

If we want to “seal” asphalt, why not “asphalt sealer”? Example 1 and Example 2. Is this stuff too goopy? It will stick to everyone’s shoes and then end up on the wing and the carpet of the plane?

Thanks in advance for any advice!

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Shopping and banking on a computer network in the 1980s (Minitel)

Minitel: Welcome to the Internet (Mailland and Driscoll; MIT Press) says that the French were banking online starting in late 1983:

The first service, Vidéocompte (video account), was launched on December 20, 1983, by CCF Bank (now part of HSBC). But far from being what the Financial Times called an “electronic gadget,” within a year the service attracted 65 percent of CCF clients who owned a Minitel. Other banks were a bit less successful, for unlike the CCF, they actually charged a monthly fee for the service. A 1991 France Telecom survey estimated that “the penetration ratio (total subscribers/total bank customers) average[d] 8% for nationwide banks and 19% for local banks.” Nonetheless, that was enough for banking services to repeatedly be ranked in the top of all services by France Telecom. Services ranged from checking balances and making appointments with bank personnel, to ordering checkbooks and transferring money. Using Minitel as a modem, the home or office accountant could download banking data to further manipulate it using a personal computer. The contrast between the successful Minitel model for online banking and US videotex failures in this realm highlight the power of Minitel as a neutral, open platform on which private actors could layer their services. In contrast, the fragmentation of US systems made it impossible for banking services to succeed. Different banking applications required separate subscriptions to distinct gated communities and sometimes dedicated hardware. The United States would have to wait for the privatization of the open Internet as a neutral, open platform to see the successful emergence of online banking in the retail sector.

They had Amazon Fresh:

Tele-Market promised to deliver food to the Paris area and offered same-day delivery. It competed with several other companies; a 1987 guide lists four different services focused on delivering to the Paris area, and twenty-three total in France, enabling one to order from large stores, specialized wine retailers, or straight from local farms.

[under a 1985 photo of a Tele-Market van]

They had Google:

The France Telecom telephone directory, known as Le 11, featured a natural language interface. Name searches could be successfully completed even when the name or address was spelled wrong, and the yellow pages sections of the State-run directory as well as the Minitel online directory MGS offered powerful natural-language search capabilities. For example, one could search for “reservation of theater tickets in Paris” or “residential real estate rentals in Lyon.” By May 1991, France Telecom would boast a 98 percent rate of accuracy in the search results.

They had Siri:

In addition to natural-language interfaces, the private sector also experimented with on-demand personal assistants and semantic search. Before Apple’s Siri or Microsoft’s Cortana, Minitel users could chat with Claire or Sophie. Claire provided administrative information, while Sophie answered questions on Parisian cultural activities. But Claire and Sophie were not powered by artificial intelligence software; there were real, live people on the other end of the connection, referred to as “Minitel girls.” That was 1984. Truly automated personal assistant services with natural-language interfaces began to appear around 1987, such as 3615 AK, a public-facing database of health information similar to WebMD.

The Minitel nerds also envisioned (and built) the Internet of Things (IoT), but without TCP/IP or the Silicon Valley Insufferables:

The Minitel terminal—and specifically, its serial port—played a central role in coordinating the domotique network. First, it provided communication to and from the outside world by supplying an interface between the various “smart” devices in the home to the telephone system. This enabled cybernetic devices to communicate with the outside world. For example, a domotique fire alarm could ring the firehouse. Similarly, the Minitel could receive orders sent remotely and communicate them to the control unit.

Domotique devices from the 1980s included thermostats, VCRs, security systems, lights, yard irrigation, and even kitchen appliances—although it remains unclear why anyone would want to remotely control a stove, fridge, or supply of laundry detergent or trash bags.

[Sadly these folks couldn’t get $3 billion after doing a little 8051 coding.]

More: read Minitel: Welcome to the Internet

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Massachusetts State Police versus a private sector job

“State Police pay higher than reported, data hidden for years” (Boston Globe) should be required reading for young people:

Payroll records for an entire 140-trooper State Police division — including some of the department’s highest earners — have been hidden from public view and weren’t filed with the state comptroller for several years, the Globe has found.

The records for Troop F, which polices Logan International Airport and parts of the Seaport, among other areas, accounted for more than $32.5 million in spending last year and portray a lucrative, overtime-laden operation that outpaces the compensation totals of troopers working in other State Police divisions.

At least 79 percent of Troop F made more last year than Governor Charlie Baker, who earned $151,800. The percentage would be even higher if you included the pay that some workers received in 2017 for time spent in other State Police divisions.

The median hourly wage in Massachusetts was $22.45 (BLS), or about $45,000 per year for full-time work (May 2016 numbers).

Especially in the #MeToo era where being denounced by a coworker means the end of a career, why incur the risk, low pay, and job insecurity of private-sector work? Don’t want to do police work? There are a lot of other highly paid jobs with union protection. The official state web site:

Over 90% of Executive Department employees are covered by a union contract. Unionized roles include: accountants, facility service workers, electricians, correction officers, state troopers, LPNs and RNs, social workers, lawyers, physicians, engineers, and librarians, among hundreds of other roles.

[Using the incomplete data set, a business executive friend was able to look up the state trooper who had pulled her over for speeding. He had earned $450,000 in the preceding year.]

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Computers and Sex in the 1980s (Minitel)

Minitel: Welcome to the Internet (Mailland and Driscoll; MIT Press) describes how people used the first mass-market Internet-style service for sex-related applications.

Why would anyone turn to the online sex-oriented message boards? Minitel Magazine, Jan-Feb 1987:

It was a chance to step out of their normal identity and be superman or a beautiful woman and say all the things that they only think about in their most secret fantasies. You are a nobody at work. You have to fight a commute to work and back. You are lonely, or you are married. Indulging in an hour of sex chat is a crude but effective way of creating a different self.

Department of Know-Your-Customer: Before the system launched, Jean Autin, a French bureaucrat said that if the government didn’t control the content providers the result would be a “race to the bottom” and “You will transform France into one giant porno theatre!”

With messageries accounting for up 50 percent of all traffic, revenue was enormous. And with the top twenty sites garnering 85 percent of pink connections, visibility was key. The result was a feedback loop that incentivized the messageries to put out more and more ads, in more and more public places. By the late 1980s, ads for Minitel rose were pervasive on the streets of Paris. Short codes such as 3615 SEXTEL appeared on any surface that could carry an ad—billboards, buses, subway stations, magazines, and television. Everywhere. Most ads were playful rather than crude; they were, after all, displayed in public for eyes of all ages. But while their level of explicitness varied, there was no question what was being advertised.

The government-run system encouraged the use of Minitel for naughty stuff because there was no detail on the bill. The spouse would see “X francs for Y hours of connect time.” The government also protected users from being known to application providers:

Minitel, unlike the Internet, was private by design, and the privacy features of Minitel took sex chat into the workplace. Minitel flows were anonymized both on the upstream and downstream. On the host side of the platform, service providers did not see from what number users were calling. This precluded later Internet innovations such as user tracking and micro-targeted advertising, as well as prevented service operators from getting an accurate head count of their client base. On the user side of the platform, connections were anonymized as well: the phone bill would only list connection minutes in bulk, without detailing either the specific times of connection or destination addresses. The privacy features were key in helping the DGT move forward despite popular opprobrium in the early days of Minitel; remember that the regional press has cried Big Brother in its campaign to kill the high modernist project. Full privacy was therefore a crucial public relations tool for the DGT.

With all digital destinations anonymized on the bill by the DGT, it was easy for Minitel-enabled workers to escape the gloom of the workday for a few minutes here and there, and ramble into rosy paradises. Visually, the text-mode interfaces of these digital frolics also made it difficult for a zealous boss to discern the specific nature of the computing act from a distance. Just in case a compliance officer happened to pop in, some sites built in a feature that enabled the user to display a fake, “clean,” home page at the touch of a button. And as an added forbidden pleasure, self-employed business owners could even write off the not-so-rosy phone bill as a business expense.

As with Facebook today, companies found that they had to try to block workers from connecting in order to avoid productivity losses:

Minitel filtering systems offered upstream control mechanisms. Maya, a board connected to the Minitel through the peripheral DIN output, could limit upstream connections to a select forty sites as well as offer time limit controls. Despite France Telecom’s denial that the pink workplace was even a thing, four thousand Mayas were said to have been ordered in the first month.

As in the U.S. society today, people were horrified by what might happen to children online:

Associations of Catholic families became active in initiating complaints and lawsuits against what became dubbed “the pimp State,” and other critics would raise the alarm about “the moral decadence of the State and of the high administration.” The criminal code was even amended in order to increase penalties for the crimes of “offense to good morals” (outrage aux bonnes moeurs), “incitement to debauchery” (incitation à la débauche), and the publication of messages that “adversely affect human dignity” (porter atteinte à la dignité humaine) when the target of the messages are under fifteen years old—the legal age of consent in France.

One of most vivid memories of Boston-area nightlife is from circa 2005. A restaurant in Somerville brought in a solo guitarist who was singing the Piña Colada song. It turns out that they had this in France too!

Les Ignobles du Bordelais narrate the story of a gentleman who meets a young lady over Minitel while his wife, Simone, is at work. After days of electronic flirting, she agrees to speak on the phone. His anticipation peaks as she picks up the phone—she must be naked!—only to discover that the voice on the other end belongs to Simone, who was herself expecting a young stud.

More: read Minitel: Welcome to the Internet

 

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Huawei advances the smartphone camera frontier

Apple and Samsung have been making such small advances in smartphone tech that consumers outside of Silicon Valley can’t figure out what they’re paying for. Domestic Senior Management, for example, a few weeks after swapping a failed iPhone 5S for an iPhone X said, “Tell me how this is supposed to be better than my old 5S.”

Everyone in the smartphone marketplace seems to have adopted the same formula. Start with a super thin package, which necessitates using a tiny sensor and a feeble battery. Make it sufficiently fragile that consumers need to wrap it in a beefy protective case. The result is a Galaxy S9 Plus that is only slightly better than an iPhone X.

From China, however, comes something interesting… the Huawei P20 Pro. From the DxOMark review:

At 1/1.78″, the main camera’s sensor is unusually large—approximately twice the size of the Samsung Galaxy S9’s 1/2.55″ chip [sensor size guide]. Despite a slightly slower f/1.8-aperture lens, the RGB main camera sensor of the P20 Pro captures approximately 20 percent more light than the smaller sensors used in most competing models. This sensor is also helped by the B&W sensor which also catches a lot of photons.

With an equivalent focal length of 80mm, the P20 Pro’s optically-stabilized tele-camera offers a significantly longer reach than the 2x tele-modules in the latest iPhone or Samsung Galaxy devices.

So it still a pretty tiny sensor, but substantially bigger than the competition (Apple has historically used puny 1/3″ sensors and then tried to fix everything in software, but it is tough to find authoritative information about the sensor size in the iPhone X).

The “telephoto” lens is actually a telephoto, equivalent to an 80mm perspective on a “full-frame” or 35mm camera. The iPhone X “telephoto” lens is actually a “normal” 52mm equivalent.

How thick and heavy did they have to go to get there? The phone supposedly weighs 180g, which includes a 4,000mAh battery, and is 7.8mm thick. The iPhone 8 Plus is 202g and 7.5mm thick with a 2700 mAh battery. The iPhone X is 174g and 7.7mm thick with roughly the same battery capacity as the 8 Plus (source). So… somehow Huawei managed to do this without going to the thick/heavy side!

DxOMark’s conclusions?

With a total photo score of 114, the Huawei P20 Pro is currently the highest-ranked smartphone for still image capture by quite a margin.

The Huawei P20 Pro is the best smartphone for zooming that we have tested to date, thanks to an intelligent mixture of digital zoom and the long reach of the 80mm equivalent tele-lens.

looking at the images and test results from the P20 Pro, it seems Huawei has skipped one or two generations. … The P20 Pro’s triple camera setup is the biggest innovation we have seen in mobile imaging for quite some time and is a real game changer.

Warts?

The Huawei P20 Pro achieves a Video score of 98 points, making it also the number one camera in our video rankings, albeit not by the same large margin as for still images.

The camera does not come with optical image stabilization and therefore has to rely on Huawei’s electronic video stabilization when shooting video.

Maybe the Chinese manufacturers will finally bring some diversity into the smartphone market?

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Valorization of Stormy Daniels will reduce compensation in the porn industry?

As recently as 2016, it was possible to get paid more for having sex on camera than for working at Starbucks. CNBC shows that porn industry compensation was $300-1500 per “scene”. (The article notes that there is a gender pay gap; actors identifying as “men” get paid less than those identifying as “women”. Where is Hillary Clinton to demand an end to this injustice?)

Given that a lot of folks who work at Starbucks for $12 per hour do meet the minimum qualifications for selling sex it seems reasonable to infer that the higher compensation is due to Americans preferring to have “worked at Starbucks” on their resumes than “worked as porn actor/actress”.

Our most respected media, however, is now promoting careers in porn to young people (a refreshing change from English majors promoting STEM careers!) by valorizing Stormy Daniels. One example is “Stormy Daniels, Porn Star Suing Trump, Is Known for Her Ambition: ‘She’s the Boss’” (nytimes):

To many in the capital, Ms. Clifford, 39, has become an unexpected force. … for most of her professional life, Ms. Clifford has been a woman in control of her own narrative in a field where that can be uncommon. With an instinct for self-promotion, she evolved from “kindergarten circuit” stripper to star actress and director, and occasional mainstream success, by her late 20s.

“She’s the boss, and everyone knew it,” Nina Hartley, one of the longest-working performers in the industry, said about Ms. Clifford.

“She was a very serious businesswoman and a filmmaker and had taken the reins of her career,” said Judd Apatow, who directed her cameos in the R-rated comedies “Knocked Up” and “The 40-Year-Old Virgin.” “She is not someone to be underestimated.”

She has a daughter, a third husband and an expensive hobby: equestrian shows. “She blends right in,” said Packy McGaughan, a trainer on the competition circuit. “A pretty girl riding a horse.”

Pre-Trump, the same media outlets took the position that women who took cash in exchange for sex, outside of a family court context, were being exploited. The assumption seemed to be that women would not willingly sell their bodies, regardless of the price, and therefore a man had to be coercing them into a transaction.

Now it seems that Americans who sell sex, on-screen or off-screen, can be celebrated for their heroic bravery. They are powerful independent actors, not passive victims.

If having sex with rich people off-camera and/or having sex with middle-class people on-camera are laurels to be worn proudly, will that increase the supply of Americans who want to work in this sector of the economy? If so, with an increase in supply do we expect prices to fall?

[Some perspectives from Facebook:

Just saw Stormy Daniels interviewed and I can tell she is twice as smart as Donald trump. At least. I think the best way to get back at trump for the fucking hell hes put us through is by electing Stormy Daniels the next president. I’m officially offering to work for the Stormy Daniels campaign in any capacity –

…promiscuous, dumb, narcissistic, attention whores. Stormy should have been smarter in her choice of partners.

]

From my middle-aged perspective it seems that American mores have shifted rapidly. Ten years ago, for example, I don’t think that someone who exchanged sex for cash could be expected to talk about it on national TV. The vendor of the sex wouldn’t have wanted to be identified and the TV network wouldn’t have wanted to devote airtime to a debrief on the business transaction. In a country where there is no shame in selling one’s body, why does someone get paid $1,500 to have sex for 20 minutes?

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The app ecosystem… circa 1985 (Minitel)

Minitel: Welcome to the Internet (Mailland and Driscoll; MIT Press) describes the mass market early 1980s French system that shared many characteristics with the Apple and Google app store systems. A monopoly provider allowed third parties to build and offer applications to a captive audience, prevented via technical means from patronizing unapproved application vendors. The captive users were billed by the monopoly periodically.

As a computational platform, Minitel was composed of three components: terminals, servers, and the network infrastructure to interconnect them. Unlike the videotex/teletext systems being assembled elsewhere in Europe, Minitel was designed to encourage the development of privately owned third-party services. In this respect, Minitel was an early example of a technical platform intended to support an economic platform or “multisided market” by bringing together potential user-consumers with service providers while extracting a small rent for making the match.

The PAVI [switch into which the terminals dialed] also played a part in the enforcement of Télétel censorship. If a service was found in violation of Télétel rules, the PAVI would be programmed to refuse to connect incoming callers. The PAVI determined, call by call, which servers were accessible, to whom, and under what conditions.

While the standard X.25 protocol enables all hosts on the network to act as routers, or packet switches, the DGT implementation of X.25 did not.38 In this nonstandard variant of X.25, therefore, the DGT deliberately prevented the decentralized, privately owned servers at the edges of the network from acting as routers.39 Only the operator-controlled nodes were allowed to route packets. This meant that virtual circuits that would have been possible using a standard X.25 implementation were prohibited, thereby forcing all user traffic to pass through one of the State-run gateways

On the other hand, the servers that hosted content were all privately owned as well as decentralized to the edges of the network.33 This stood in contrast to the other European videotex experiments, particularly those in England, Germany, and Switzerland, where all content was hosted on centralized servers operated by the monopoly PTT operator. In those systems, potential content providers rented space on a shared central server.34 In France, however, it was left to the content providers to purchase and administer their own servers. These privately operated machines were then added to the edges of the network through a digital data line leased from the State-controlled public data network, Transpac.

users were not required to input any payment information at all. The DGT instead would bill users directly by adding a simple “Télétel use” fee onto their monthly phone bills. Since everyone who had a phone line would get a free Minitel, and since both the Minitel ecosystem and public switched telephone network (PSTN) were managed by the DGT, all one would have to do to use the terminal would be to plug in the electric socket, connect the phone line, et voilà, you were online.

The Kiosk billing system was, in many ways, the “killer app” underlying the runaway success of Minitel.50 The Kiosk also reflected the French political tradition of centralization found in so many other aspects of the system.51 Like the PAVI gateways in which it was implemented, Kiosk placed the DGT at the center of all online activity.

As early as 1980, the service providers’ association indicated that it did not want the DGT to be involved in the commercial side of Minitel: “Billing and collection shall be handled by the service providers only, the DGT must only intervene as an information carrier.”54 Billing, it reasoned, was a site of potential innovation and competition best managed by private enterprise.

Instead of Kiosk, early Minitel service providers requested that a chip card payment technology be implemented.55 Payments through credit cards could have been accommodated in an architecture where content servers were allowed to act as switches, since all the payment information would have been included in the packets being switched. A chip card system, in other words, would have enabled the decentralization of payment on Minitel.56 By rejecting the chip card proposal in favor of the Kiosk system, the DGT established itself as the single administrative gatekeeper of all commercial activity on the network.57

The Kiosk system positioned the State as organizer, controller, and taxer of all economic activity.

At least in the early days, signing up as an application provider did not move on “Internet time”:

Consider the story of three jobless yet enterprising individuals who in 1985 attempted to launch a Minitel site. Dubbed Amphitel, the proposed site consisted of an online guide for the city of Grenoble and featured online travel services for tourists. The site’s founders partnered with the Sopra corporation, a major information technology services provider, and secured funding from Credit Agricole, one of the largest French banks.

They first wrote to their congressperson, one Bernard Montergnole, to request assistance in navigating the Minitel regulatory framework. The congressperson, not up to speed with that aspect of the law but eager to support digital innovation in his district, wrote to the minister of communications, M. Georges Fillioud, on February 4, 1985, requesting an opinion as to what authorization must be secured by the enterprising trio in order to roll out their service onto the Minitel network. The communications minister, though, was not up to speed either and had to request an opinion from his legal department. On March 26, 1985, almost two months from the congressperson’s letter, the answer came from Jacques Vistel, a State Council justice delegated to the communications ministry, to explain to the minister that if the service is a mere e-mail system, then no authorization was required, but that if the service used electronics as a means of transmitting information to the public, then the entrepreneurs must retrieve official authorization forms from the local prefect and formally request an authorization to provide their service over the network. The prime minister’s legal service archives, where this exchange was recorded, do not indicate whether or not this politically correct service ever made it online.

The authors are not impressed with what Americans have built for themselves:

In 2010, Apple removed the WikiLeaks app from its App Store, making it more difficult for iPhone users to access content published by WikiLeaks. The decision by Apple to block access to WikiLeaks through its platform was not motivated by any legal mandate—WikiLeaks was protected by the First Amendment—but rather by public relations considerations.

Unlike Minitel, with its implied commitment to the French public interest, privately run platforms like CompuServe and the Apple Store are governed by an opaque, centralized form of authority—gated communities à l’Américaine.

If Apple does not want an app to be part of the iOS ecosystem, the developer of the app cannot sue Apple. In contrast, because Télétel was a public platform managed by the State, French service providers were afforded due process. Only illegal content could be rejected, not content that the platform operator did not like.

So while the platform was not fully open and chilling effects certainly existed, due process principles ensured that legal content could eventually make it through—a level of openness that has never existed on the prototypical walled gardens built in the United States.

In almost every way, the Apple ecosystem mirrors the design of Télétel—except that it lacks the transparency and openness of the French system.

Unlike Télétel, Apple is not operating in the interest of the public. Whereas all censorship decisions on Télétel were subject to due process and could be appealed in a court of law, Apple exercises absolute control over the communication that takes place on its platform. The public has no interest, no representation, and no recourse to settle disputes. Likewise, where Télétel published an open standard and allowed any hardware to join the network, the Apple ecosystem is accessible only to Apple’s own devices. As a result, Minitel fostered the development of a strong, competitive, private hardware industry at the terminal level as well as the host level, which supported the development of French companies like Alcatel and Matra, and ironically, US companies such as AT&T and Texas Instruments, whereas every increase in Apple’s platform penetration mechanically increases Apple—and only Apple’s—hardware penetration. The difference in the exercise of control over engineering decisions extends also to the software and services provided on each platform. Whereas Minitel developers were free to use any technologies to create their services, iOS developers are limited to the programming languages and development tools approved by Apple.

Minitel was running without encryption and therefore the government had the technical ability to censor communications, but apparently chose not to.

Individual users were not subject to State censorship, and as a result, Minitel became an important platform for fringe political and cultural activity.58 For instance, during the massive antigovernment student demonstrations of 1986, Minitel became “a peerless tool for information and communication” used to organize the protests.

More: Read Minitel: Welcome to the Internet

 

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Minitel would have turned 40 this year

Just in time for the 40th anniversary of its 1978 launch, Minitel: Welcome to the Internet (Mailland and Driscoll; MIT Press) is here to remind us that a consumer Internet was pioneered by the French.

Let me do a few posts on this book. Let’s start with the overall system architecture. We tend to think of TCP/IP as inevitable, but it was not the world’s only way to do packet-switched digital communication. Minitel ran on X.25. Terminals would dial up switches, which would then connect the terminal to the server of the user’s choice.

The authors explain the overall concept:

In the early 1980s, growing a platform like Minitel was especially difficult because the general public did not yet see the point of going online. … One strategy for attracting a critical mass of users and service providers to a new network is to “prime the pump” … This is exactly what happened in France. The State ordered millions of terminals from private manufacturers (which prompted the creation of new manufacturing lines) and gave away the equipment, free of cost, to every French telephone subscriber … The State further incited this fresh user base to actually connect to the network by creating a free, online phone book, l’annuaire électronique. Finally, it substantially lowered the barrier to entry for end users by not implementing an up-front subscription model but rather charging users based on their connection time and adding the resulting fees onto users’ monthly phone bills … To support the creation of new services, the telephone company rebated about two-thirds of the connection fees to the service providers.

By default, Minitel terminals were designed to decode and display pages of data in videotex format. In the late 1970s, videotex referred to an emerging family of media technologies intended to bridge the twin pillars of midcentury telecommunications: the telephone and television. The simplest implementations of videotex broadcast a revolving set of static “pages” including a mix of text and images to be displayed on a home television. One can imagine such a system being used to circulate announcements about weather, civic matters, or a calendar of local events. This was called teletext.

Télétel was the official brand name of the overall ecosystem that connected Minitel terminals to videotex services.

Crucially, it created a gateway between the preexisting, switched telephone network and newly built public data network, Transpac. Transpac was a packet-switched network using the (then cutting-edge) virtual circuit X.25 protocol.

How about the terminal hardware?

The [early 1980s] Minitel 1B is a self-contained data terminal. All the hardware fits into a molded plastic case approximately eight inches tall, ten inches wide, and ten inches deep. The front of the Minitel 1B is dark brown, and the rear of the case is a lighter beige color. The keyboard is attached to the bottom edge of the front of the case by a hinge. When not in use, the keyboard folds up and is held in place by a latch at the top of the case. In the rear, the case bumps out to accommodate the electron guns of the built-in cathode-ray tube. A large knob embedded in the case controls the brightness of the display. On one side of the rear of the case, a small plastic window lifts up to reveal a serial port with a five-pin DIN connection. On the other side, two long black cables lead out. One cable ends with a standard “Type-C Europlug” AC power plug, and the other ends with a standard T-plug for connecting to the French telephone network. Unlatching the keyboard reveals a small glass screen, or l’écran, approximately eight inches across. A square power button and small red LED are below the screen. The keyboard, or le clavier, includes sixty-four keys. The keys are “chiclet” style, similar to the Sinclair ZX-80 or IBM PCjr, with a few millimeters of space between each. In addition to twenty-six letters, ten numerals, nine punctuation keys, and a space bar, the keyboard includes both a shift key and unlabeled modifier key. The effect of the shift and modifier keys is indicated by a set of color-coded alternate characters printed on the surface of the keyboard. Ten keys at the top of the keyboard correspond to Télétel commands, such as sommaire (table of contents) and envoi (send).

A true “dumb terminal,” the Minitel supplied a reliable interface to remote information services while performing minimal computing of its own. It is often said that the Minitel did not have a CPU or memory, but this is not strictly true. While the Minitel 1 was not a generally programmable computer, a microprocessor was necessary to operate the modem, serial port, keyboard, and screen. Similarly, the Minitel 1 did not have an operating system or BIOS but rather a small set of software burned into ROM that implemented decoders for the keyboard and display as well as protocols for serial communication and error correction. Additional volatile memory was used to store the current state of the screen and provide a buffer for user input. More expensive models such as the Minitel 10 included additional hardware and software features, including a built-in tone generator and automatic telephone dialer.

The Minitel modem was an asymmetrical duplex modem—a communication standard that had been continuously negotiated and refined by the International Telecommunication Union (ITU) since 1964.27 In practice, this meant that the Minitel could receive (demodulate) data at 1,200 baud while simultaneously sending (modulating) at 75 baud.

One unusual feature of the Minitel 1B was the option [when uploading a large file] to “flip” the transmission rates (retournement du modem).

Although the official documentation only hinted at this use, the Minitel could act as an external modem for a standard PC. This was an enormous opportunity for microcomputer hobbyists in France. Whereas a comparable PC modem might cost fifteen hundred francs, the Minitel was free. The process of connecting the Minitel to a PC was not simple—both soldering and programming were required—but the cost-saving hack was documented in widely circulated magazines for the microcomputer enthusiast.

An obvious commercial application?

Smart cards were already in wide use in France as bank cards and prepaid phone cards. The prototypical Minitel card reader was the LECAM, produced around 1987 and rented to Minitel users by France Telecom for a monthly fee. The reader was the same width and depth as the Minitel 1B, and designed to be clipped to the top of the terminal. The reader contained a generally programmable computer that could run software stored on smart cards. This promised to extend the functionality of the standard Minitel in a variety of ways, including turning it into a point-of-sale terminal for processing credit and debit card payments. This application was especially notable at a time when most US merchants still used manual “zip-zap” carbon imprinters to record card payments.

Careful attention to standards?

The DGT attempted to encourage the creation of new services by publishing high-quality documentation of the Minitel standard as well as pamphlets detailing design patterns for efficient, user-friendly systems. The investment in developing Télétel services was further protected by the stability of the system. The core characteristics of the platform stayed constant for the system’s life. In contrast to the rapidly changing microcomputer market, a Minitel service written in 1985 would continue to function, unchanged, in 2012.

How about the servers?

The typical Minitel server was built on a minicomputer running a multitasking operating system such as Unix. The capacity of a server to handle multiple simultaneous connections was limited, on the one hand, by its network interface and, on the other hand, by its host software. Before Minitel rolled into full-scale production and ran over the public data network, Transpac, servers were connected to the telephone network by a bank of modems, each of which could handle one user at a time.

Unlike the British implementation of videotex where the production of content and its distribution were completely integrated, the CCETT separated the network protocol (which developed into X.25) from the protocol controlling the visual display of data (Antiope). By separating these two layers, the CCETT videotex system was effectively “medium free.” In other words, the French standard for videotex/teletext did not proscribe one or another medium for transmission.

The points d’accès vidéotex, or PAVIs, were specialized computers sitting in the logical center of the platform responsible for overseeing the exchange of data between old and new communication media.

To provide a gateway function, the PAVI was composed of five interfaces: a user-facing directory service, a database of known Télétel services, a database of known subscribers, an RTC modem, and an X.25 Transpac modem.

Each PAVI was built on an Alcatel-CIT E-10 switch. Whereas the Minitel 1 is a small, approachable device, the E-10 is massive, filling six large cabinets in a temperature-controlled environment.

Why did the French push this out to consumers? The authors say that deficiencies in the state-directed telephone system provided motivation:

At the end of the 1960s, France had one of the worst telephone networks in the industrialized world. The waiting list for a copper pair installation for 90 percent of clients was three years while at the same time in the United States, 99 percent of installs were completed within three days. In 1971, the penetration rate in France was equivalent to that reached by Denmark in 1930, Sweden in 1935, the United Kingdom in 1956, and Italy in 1964.

In 1975, the government decided to overhaul the country’s patchwork telephone network and replace it with a completely automated system. Consistent with the ambition of previous grands projets, the new plan—dubbed “A Phone for Everyone” (un Téléphone pour tous) explicitly sought to provide universal service to both voice and data. For data, a high-speed public packet-switched network was necessary. An upgrade of this magnitude was expensive, however, and the fees generated through telephone calls alone would not be sufficient to cover the added cost. Instead, it was necessary to not only improve on the existing network but also develop novel revenue-generating services that could recoup the heavy investment.

The French also wanted to build their own thing so as not to be dependent on IBM, which they saw as likely to dominate the world of computer networks as it had dominated mainframes(!).

How successful was it? There were 800,000 terminals and 500,000 active users… at the time of the system’s shutdown in 2012. At the peak (early 1990s), roughly one fifth of French telephone subscribers had a Minitel terminal. There were over 6 million terminals and nearly 90 million connection hours per year (Minitel was expensive to use, so people limited their time online).

More: Read Minitel: Welcome to the Internet

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What do the anti-gun marchers want?

I talked to a few friends in Manhattan who had gone to the anti-gun march on Saturday. It turned out that they weren’t truly “anti-gun.” I offered them a point of view to agree with: now that the US has 327 million people we can’t live under laws, such as the Second Amendment, designed for a spread-out country of 3-4 million. If you pack rats into a lab experiment tightly enough they are going to snap so why should they have guns?

But they wouldn’t agree with me! They wanted more bureaucracy. Restrictions on gun ownership that would somehow reduce shootings even as 99% of the guns remained. They were aware that the FBI and local police had ignored tips regarding the Florida school shooter, but they had faith in government bureaucracy to keep them safe.

[I don’t think that they were trying to soften their position to avoid offending me. The folks that I talked to know that I don’t own any guns.]

Readers: what did marchers in your area say they wanted?

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