My first impression of the CHM was…
“Oh my god, this is so cool!”
(me, verbatim at the CHM, 2025)
Everywhere I looked, there were genuine items and replicas alike that brought me so much awe for humanity’s ingenuity. Before taking this Media History class, I had learned a little bit about computer history back in 8th grade. Inventions like ENIAC, the abacus, and the Jacquard Loom were discussed in our studies— seated inside a computer lab thousands of miles away, far removed from the brilliance they actually have— and there I was at the CHM witnessing life-sized artifacts, fragments of larger pieces, and authentic-looking replicas of these machines with my own two eyes many years later.
At the CHM, I spent a good chunk of my time looking at early computers and learning how to use them. Although I am sure it took a more complete, functional form after many iterations, I still couldn’t grasp the idea of coming up with an invention like a sector.
I noticed there were many sectors with different designs: one by the Elliott Brothers, a large one by Jacobus Lusverg, an English-style sector, and some others. Even though the designs varied, they all served the same purpose. This taught me that an object can be adapted for specific contexts while maintaining its core function— a principle that feels very relevant to interaction design today, where interfaces must fit different user needs without changing their essential purpose.
My amazement and appreciation for computers like that doubled upon seeing the demonstration piece of the Difference Engine No. 1. Humanity needed more reliable technologies, and time and time again, humanity delivered— in the case of Babbage, even such a concept that never materialized was enough for other thinkers in future generations to extrapolate on.
Technological progress, however, isn’t linear. The Antikythera mechanism is proof of that.
I love archaeology; in fact, when I first applied for college, I got accepted into the anthropology program at the University of the Philippines. My idea was to finish a bachelor’s degree and get into a graduate school. So, albeit not seeing some sort of tangible artifact of the Antikythera mechanism, I was thrilled to learn that it existed long before ENIAC.
To create a computer that tracked astronomical objects, predicted eclipses, and provided a calendar for the Olympic games was incredibly advanced for 2nd century BC. It makes me wonder how much more there is we don’t know due to natural circumstances like deterioration, human actions such as colonialism, and historical events like the burning of the Library of Alexandria. So, the fact that the remains of the Antikythera mechanism survived for approximately 2,000 years and gave us a glimpse of sophisticated human thinking around that time fills me with so much certainty that progress is never a straight line— human innovation can appear, disappear, and reemerge across centuries, often in ways we least expect. The best part is the generational inspiration that can come from it.
In essence, the Antikythera mechanism was a computer whose gears translated predictable astronomical cycles into readable outputs for the user. From an interaction design perspective, it’s “cool” to see how humans from so long ago transformed complex information into a tangible, understandable interface of gears and dials. It reminded me that design isn’t just modern, because people have been thinking about usability and accessibility for millennia.
Walking out of the CHM, I found myself thinking less about the machines themselves and more about the people behind them, and how every design, from the Antikythera mechanism to the sector, reflects our endless curiosity to understand and shape the world.