I burst out the side door of the Alumni House. It鈥檚 damp and chilly outside, but I don鈥檛 return to my office to grab my jacket or umbrella. I鈥檓 numb to everything except what鈥檚 in my hands鈥�-my computer. It鈥檚 showing no signs of life. I try my best not to think of the potential consequences: months of work on the magazine lost forever. I keep telling myself the campus Help Center can identify and fix what鈥檚 wrong. But that refrain of reasoning isn鈥檛 calming me down.
It feels like time is of the essence, as if the computer鈥檚 brain isn鈥檛 getting enough oxygen, which could lead to irreversible damage. Rather than walk to the intersection of Forbes and Morewood avenues, where there is a crosswalk light, I instead take a quick glimpse each way and scurry across Forbes鈥� four lanes of traffic. Scooting up the sidewalk leading to Warner Hall, I鈥檓 not concerned that my new Allen Edmonds shoes are getting a bit muddy from the remnants of an overnight rain.
To get to Cyert Hall, home of the Help Center, I take a shortcut through the Warner Hall lobby. As I walk through the door, I can鈥檛 help but glance at the quote mounted on the wall of the admissions office:
鈥淢y heart is in the work.鈥�
鈥�Andrew Carnegie, 1900
My heart is my hands, and it almost splatters across the floor as I narrowly miss tripping on an electrical cord; two Carnegie Mellon employees are doing some rewiring in an electrical closet opposite the elevators.
I鈥檓 able to make it through Warner Hall unscathed and enter Cyert Hall. I follow the signs with arrows that state This Way to the Help Center. When I get there, I notice that the center鈥檚 hours are posted: Walk-in Service 9AM鈥�5PM. Fortunately, my computer crash happened during normal business hours. I stand somewhat patiently behind a student and wait for my turn with the center鈥檚 sign-in computer. The student keeps typing and typing, like she鈥檚 writing a novel rather than checking in. At last, she finishes. I鈥檓 next.
I hurriedly enter my Andrew User ID, per the prompt; then I鈥檓 asked to enter a brief description of my problem. That鈥檚 easy:
Computer not working.
I鈥檓 electronically thanked for signing in and informed a consultant will be with me presently. Moments later, I鈥檓 greeted by Graham Pugh, a senior majoring in information systems. After a brief exam, he deduces I have a software problem and starts to explain his diagnosis in greater detail. I鈥檓 not asking for details, just a welcome screen. In about 45 minutes, I get my wish.
As I walk back to my office it would be apropos if the sun came out. It doesn鈥檛, but my mood is much, much brighter while I avoid puddles and wait for the walk sign before crossing Forbes Avenue. I find myself thinking about how everything from Carnegie Mellon Today stories to the world鈥檚 greatest accomplishments depend upon the perfection of computers.
Computer science professor Edmund Clarke must think about that daily. In this issue's , writer Jennifer Bails chronicles how Clarke has helped change the world by finding design errors in computer hardware and software. Not surprisingly, he has received perhaps the most prestigious award in computing for his automated method breakthrough. 聽聽
For me, I鈥檓 just breathing a sigh of relief that no computer design errors derailed this issue.
鈥�Robert Mendelson
聽聽聽Executive Editor
