Computers, and the myriad things that are possible with the proper combination of hardware and software, naturally elicit a sense of wonder. Who among us, other than those technological wizards with souls one part silicon and two parts binary code, really comprehend just what goes on inside that big beige box when we click on a colorful icon? How can we fail to feel just a twinge of awe when we consider that the PDA nestled in the palm of our hand contains more raw computing power than was available onboard the early Apollo spacecraft? (And that took them to the moon; where is the vast power at our fingertips taking us?)

I can recall, when I first started working regularly with computers, feeling a sense of power in almost every successful operation. But, as I became more experienced, my expectations became higher and my sensibilities more jaded. Soon, a typical reaction was one of dissatisfaction rather than achievement. Yet it wasn't the computer hardware and software that had changed (well, yes, they had, in a constant upward spiral of improvement), it was me. I had become inured to the wonder, transformed from an eager neophyte into a demanding consumer always wanting more, better, faster....

But I sensed the change was occurring, realized why, and even today actively fight to retain the essential "sense of wonder" I had back then. What I find too often among many of today's columnists, reviewers, and pundits (none in this magazine, of course) is that they infuse the entire industry and reading public with their own growing disenchantment and gloom. After years of having been in a position where they've "seen (and heard) it all," they are jaded and disillusioned caricatures of their former selves.

And, whether from insecurity or orneriness, some of them seem intent on making darn sure that we all know just how exalted they are, how impossible they are to please. It is at this point that they lose their relevance to mainstream readers and computer users - those of us who still approach computing with a mixture of marvel and enthusiasm, leavened with the constant need to do more, faster.

I see a similar "burnout" among the editors and feature writers of some prominent high-tech magazines as well. Having hobnobbed with industry movers and shakers for so long, they feel impelled to assert their independence and establish an equivalent authority by making sure that everybody (readers and industry leaders) knows just how "sophisticated" and persnickety they are. This "dazzle me in 10 seconds, or it's the silicon junk heap for you" attitude and "I'm going to uncover the dirt, so cross me at your peril" posture shows through in the topics and style of the stories their magazines cover.

I don't claim to be immune to the creeping malaise; I leave that to your (the readers') judgment. If you ever sense that the content or style of Computing Japan is becoming jaded or too insider-oriented, please give me a good swift kick in the (editorial) seat via letter or e-mail. I'm counting on you.

WM. Auckerman