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The<br />
Proof<br />
Is in the Printer<br />
...And the bike messenger's waiting.<br />
How a (fictitious) design studio overcame<br />
a series oflaser printer problems that could<br />
strike anyone, anytime.<br />
by David Pogue<br />
It was late on a Friday afternoon in one of New<br />
York City's most successful fictitious design stu-<br />
dios. Tia Sperling had an easy assignment: to print<br />
out a laser proof of the brochure mockup she<br />
had designed on her Macintosh. After printing the<br />
two-page galley, she planned to get it bike-mes-<br />
sengered to the client, then grab a cab home and<br />
relax for the weekend.<br />
She called Blazing Pedals, the bike-messenger<br />
company. "The envelope will be ready in half an<br />
hour," she told them, "and it has to be uptown by<br />
six, because my client is six-foot-five and short-<br />
tempered, and he needs this printout under his<br />
arm when his flight leaves for Tokyo at eight."<br />
They said okay. She sat at her computer, chose<br />
the Print command from the menu, leaned back,<br />
and took a sip of iced coffee. Then the Macintosh<br />
beeped. She looked at it, puzzled. This is what it<br />
told her:<br />
OK<br />
Can't open printer. Use the<br />
Chooser command on the ri menu<br />
to select another printer.<br />
"I don't want to open it:' she muttered. "I just<br />
want to print with it."<br />
She opened the Chooser desk accessory, as<br />
it was suggesting; sure enough, the window, nor-<br />
mally crowded with printer icons, was empty.<br />
"Strange;' she said. "They were there yesterday. I<br />
remember seeing them, just before Jake came by<br />
to install that system-software update—"<br />
She snapped her fingers. "Jaaake!"<br />
Jake, 21 and ponytailed, came loping in from<br />
the other side of the office. He apologized, in<br />
his noncommunicative way, and grabbed the<br />
System disks that come with every Macintosh.<br />
He used the Installer disk to reinstall the printer<br />
drivers; when the computer was restarted, the<br />
printer icons were all back where they were sup-<br />
posed to be—in the Extensions folder, inside the<br />
System folder. And, therefore, in the Chooser<br />
window "Thanks loads;' said Tia, as she selected<br />
36<br />
the laser printer icon once more.<br />
Now there were two problems. First problem:<br />
even when the laser printer icon was selected, the<br />
name of her printer, LaserWriter IV, didn't show<br />
up in the Chooser window. And she knew what<br />
that meant: no printer name, no communication<br />
between computer and printer—and no printout.<br />
Second problem: the Blazing Pedals guy had<br />
just showed up, grubby from the city filth and<br />
looking like a large insect in his protective gear.<br />
"Just a sec;' Tia called out to him.<br />
The computer wasn't seeing the printer. What<br />
could be wrong? She inspected the cables. It all<br />
seemed fine: the network connector was attached<br />
to her Mac; telephone wire stretched along the<br />
desk; and the other connector was attached to the<br />
printer. The printer was turned on—so why was<br />
the Mac reporting that the printer wasn't there?<br />
Since the computer was working, and the<br />
printer usually worked fine, Tia figured that either<br />
the connectors or the cable was on the fritz. But<br />
there was no time to investigate; she reasoned that<br />
she could rule out three possible flaky compo-<br />
nents in one swoop just by substituting somebody<br />
else's connector-and-cable ensemble. "Jaaaake!"<br />
Within three minutes, Jake's wiring had re-<br />
placed Tia's, and the printer was at last on speak-<br />
ing terms with the computer. (Only days later<br />
would Tia discover that her original cable had<br />
indeed developed a crimp.)<br />
UK<br />
OK, But Cannot Be Printed<br />
As Tia tried the Print command, she tried to<br />
smile at the impatient bike messenger, who was<br />
shifting restlessly from foot to foot. "Almost<br />
there; she cooed.<br />
But she wasn't. Now the computer told her this:<br />
R PostScript error has occurred.<br />
The document is OK, but cannot be<br />
printed.<br />
"That's whatyou think;' she told the computer.<br />
"If I can't print it, it's not OK<br />
Even Jake was nonplussed. "Huh; he said.<br />
Zephyr, Tia's wonderful but New Age partner,<br />
came over to check out the ruckus. Zephyr sized<br />
up the situation immediately. "Your work is too<br />
complex;' she said.<br />
Tia was hurt. "But this is exactly the effect the<br />
client wanted! He kept saying, 'I want this to be<br />
the mother of all brochures!"<br />
"No, no, not the design;' replied Zephyr, "the<br />
document." PostScript, she reminded Tia, is the<br />
behind-the-scenes code language spoken by com-<br />
puters to laser printers. A PostScript error can<br />
mean only one of two things: either the fonts or<br />
the graphics are too complex for the printer to<br />
handle. In Tia's PageMaker document, one or the<br />
other was having a bad hair day.<br />
Tia glanced nervously at the bike messenger,<br />
Continued on page 40