LIKE ALADDIN'S LAMP, YOU COULD GET IT TO DO YOUR BIDDING.

Surely everyone could benefit from experiencing this power.

Surely everyone could benefit from a world based on the Hacker

Ethic. This was the implicit belief of the hackers, and the

hackers irreverently extended the conventional point of view of

what computers could and should do--leading the world to a new

way of looking and interacting with computers.

This was not easily done. Even at such an advanced institution

as MIT, some professors considered a manic affinity for computers

as frivolous, even demented. TMRC hacker Bob Wagner once had to

explain to an engineering professor what a computer was. Wagner

experienced this clash of computer versus anti-computer even more

vividly when he took a Numerical Analysis class in which the

professor required each student to do homework using rattling,

clunky electromechanical calculators. Kotok was in the same

class, and both of them were appalled at the prospect of working

with those lo-tech machines. "Why should we," they asked, "when

we've got this computer?"

So Wagner began working on a computer program that would emulate

the behavior of a calculator. The idea was outrageous. To some,

it was a misappropriation of valuable machine time. According to

the standard thinking on computers, their time was too precious

that one should only attempt things which took maximum advantage

of the computer, things that otherwise would take roomfuls of

mathematicians days of mindless calculating. Hackers felt

otherwise: anything that seemed interesting or fun was fodder for

computing--and using interactive computers, with no one looking

over your shoulder and demanding clearance for your specific

project, you could act on that belief. After two or three months

of tangling with intricacies of floating-point arithmetic

(necessary to allow the program to know where to place the

decimal point) on a machine that had no simple method to perform

elementary multiplication, Wagner had written three thousand

lines of code that did the job. He had made a ridiculously

expensive computer perform the function of a calculator that cost

a thousand times less. To honor this irony, he called the

program Expensive Desk Calculator, and proudly did the homework

for his class on it.

His grade--zero. "You used a computer!" the professor told him.

"This CAN'T be right."

Wagner didn't even bother to explain. How could he convey to his

teacher that the computer was making realities out of what were

once incredible possibilities? Or that another hacker had even

written a program called Expensive Typewriter that converted the

TX-0 to something you could write text on, could process your

writing in strings of characters and print it out on the

Flexowriter--could you imagine a professor accepting a classwork

report WRITTEN BY THE COMPUTER? How could that professor--how

could, in fact, anyone who hadn't been immersed in this uncharted

man-machine universe--understand how Wagner and his fellow

hackers were routinely using the computer to simulate, according

to Wagner, "strange situations which one could scarcely envision

otherwise"? The professor would learn in time, as would

everyone, that the world opened up by the computer was a

limitless one.

If anyone needed further proof, you could cite the project that

Kotok was working on in the Computation Center, the chess program

that bearded Al professor "Uncle" John McCarthy, as he was

becoming known to his hacker students, had begun on the IBM 704.

Even though Kotok and the several other hackers helping him on

the program had only contempt for the IBM batch-processing

mentality that pervaded the machine and the people around it,

they had managed to scrounge some late-night time to use it

interactively, and had been engaging in an informal battle with

the systems programmers on the 704 to see which group would be

known as the biggest consumer of computer time. The lead would

bounce back and forth, and the white-shirt-and-black-tie 704

people were impressed enough to actually let Kotok and his group

touch the buttons and switches on the 704: rare sensual contact

with a vaunted IBM beast.

Kotok's role in bringing the chess program to life was indicative

of what was to become the hacker role in Artificial Intelligence:

a Heavy Head like McCarthy or like his colleague Marvin Minsky

would begin a project or wonder aloud whether something might be

possible, and the hackers, if it interested them, would set about

doing it.

The chess program had been started using FORTRAN, one of the

early computer languages. Computer languages look more like

English than assembly language, are easier to write with, and do

more things with fewer instructions; however, each time an

instruction is given in a computer language like FORTRAN, the

computer must first translate that command into its own binary

language. A program called a compiler does this, and the

compiler takes up time to do its job, as well as occupying

valuable space within the computer. In effect, using a computer

language puts you an extra step away from direct contact with the

computer, and hackers generally preferred assembly or, as they

called it, "machine" language to less elegant, "higher-level"

languages like FORTRAN.

Kotok, though, recognized that because of the huge amounts of

numbers that would have to be crunched in a chess program, part

of the program would have to be done in FORTRAN, and part in

assembly. They hacked it part by part, with "move generators,"

basic data structures, and all kinds of innovative algorithms for

strategy. After feeding the machine the rules for moving each

piece, they gave it some parameters by which to evaluate its

position, consider various moves, and make the move which would

advance it to the most advantageous situation. Kotok kept at it

for years, the program growing as MIT kept upgrading its IBM

computers, and one memorable night a few hackers gathered to see

the program make some of its first moves in a real game. Its opener

was quite respectable, but after eight or so exchanges there was real

trouble, with the computer about to be checkmated. Everybody

wondered how the computer would react. It too a while (everyone

knew that during those pauses the computer was actually "thinking,"

if your idea of thinking included mechanically considering

various moves, evaluating them, rejecting most, and using a

predefined set of parameters to ultimately make a choice). Finally,

the computer moved a pawn two squares forward--illegally jumping

over another piece. A bug! But a clever one--it got the computer

out of check. Maybe the program was figuring out some new

algorithm with which to conquer chess.

At other universities, professors were making public proclamations

that computers would never be able to beat a human being in chess.

Hackers knew better. They would be the ones who would guide

computers to greater heights than anyone expected. And the hackers,

by fruitful, meaningful association with the computer, would be

foremost among the beneficiaries.

But they would not be the only beneficiaries. Everyone could gain

something by the use of thinking computers in an intellectually

automated world. And wouldn't everyone benefit even more by

approaching the world with the same inquisitive intensity,

skepticism toward bureaucracy, openness to creativity,

unselfishness in sharing accomplishments, urge to make improvements,

and desire to build as those who followed the Hacker Ethic?

By accepting others on the same unprejudiced basis by which

computers accepted anyone who entered code into a Flexowriter?

Wouldn't we benefit if we learned from computers the means of

creating a perfect system? If EVERYONE could interact with

computers with the same innocent, productive, creative impulse

that hackers did, the Hacker Ethic might spread through society

like a benevolent ripple, and computers would indeed change

the world for the better.

In the monastic confines of the Massachusetts Institute of Technology,

people had the freedom to live out this dream--the hacker dream.

No one dared suggest that the dream might spread. Instead, people

set about building, right there at MIT, a hacker Xanadu the likes

of which might never be duplicated.

Hackers, Heroes of the Computer Revolution, by Steven Levy

(C)1984 by Steven Levy

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