iAutism

NOTE: This story is based on real events.

My name is GB019RN6ETU. I am an iPad. First generation. Francesc, my owner, ordered me at Apple’s website before I was made. I was very excited when I knew somebody was waiting for me. I have heard that there are devices that are manufactured and remain on a shelf for months until someone buys them. Some even fail to be sold and end up in a recycling center perfectly packaged. When I think on it, a discharge of static electricity runs through all my circuits.

But I was explaining you that I was a lucky iPad. I arrived at Francesc’s house and I enjoyed his most attention. I spent many hours with Francesc. I must say, he loves technology in general. He installed a lot of professional applications, set up multiple email accounts, put on some music and, above all, bought me a stylish case. How nice was that leather case!

Francesc used to take me all days to work. I was very comfortable in my case, padded in his briefcase. He showed me with pride to his friends and clients. Francesc used to make a backup of all my content from time to time, charged my batteries every night, and installed all iOS updates and new applications from time to time. In short, I was a happy iPad.

Some weeks after being purchased, Francesc let their two sons, 6 and 8 years old, to play with me. He installed some games, and his sons began to play. They treated me reasonably well, but once I finished on the floor. Nothing serious. They were careful children, attracted by video games.

Second phase
In Francesc’s house there was, however, a girl. It was smaller, 4 years. I saw that she was a special child, and later I learned she had autism. One day, Francesc let me into her hands, and the girl, Sara, began to play with me. What a frenzy! Sara, who did not speak a word but was very visual, and liked lights and sounds a lot, loved me. She began to enjoy with me a lot, getting to do things his father did not think were possible.

And that started it all.

Francesc and Susana, parents of Sara, were thrilled seeing how Sara interacted at full speed with me, changing apps, doing puzzles, drawing, playing, watching videos, … I started to spend more and more time with Sara and less with Francesc, which finally let me at home every day so Sara could have me always at hand. He loaded more and more applications, and pictures of food and beverages to be selected by Sarah as an alternative communication system. Gradually, I became the Sara’s iPad.

And things evolved a lot. Sara’s parents created a blog, named iAutism, devoted to the use of iPad (and other devices) for people with autism. Ivan, another parent going through a similar experience, joined the team quickly, and others followed later. This led to more applications loaded (20 GB full, and my maximum is 32) and to become the device used to test apps and publish articles in the blog.

Meanwhile, Sara used me more and more. After some accidental falls, Francesc bought me a second, more robust case, and then a third one –with corner protection-, trying to protect me better. Sara is a beautiful and wonderful child, but not exactly careful with physical objects. She is 6 now, and she cares much more about me, but the “wounds” of the first year have been serious.

Colleagues
Sara’s parents began to load applications on the iPhone and the iPod touch that they had at home, two devices which I had established a friendship relation. But, Sara got mad one day and threw the iPhone into the toilet. It spent two weeks out, and came back quite recomposed, until Sara thrown it from a second floor and broke the screen. It still works, but not perfectly.

If the iPhone got cold, the iPod touch got heavy heat. Sara used it one day as a hammer, and also finished with the screen a bit broken. Another day, Sara let it inside a radiator, where he spent a whole winter, until Francesc discovered the “hideout” looking for pieces of a puzzle. The poor iPod touch came out a bit charred.

Witnessing all these events was not funny at all. I also ended up getting some serious impacts, both from Sara and from some other special needs children when Francesc insisted that they tried some applications. One day, my microphone stopped working. My corners are pretty dented, and I suffer for my screen, which sometimes seems to get rid of me. Another day, the 3G antenna was seriously damaged, too. Now, for the connection to work you have to bring me so close to an operator’s antenna that Francesc says you get brown.

Screenshots
And the worst part took place last weekend. My on/off button “switched off” at all. It does not work. Strictly speaking, I hear it moving freely inside me. It feels really unpleasant, but in itself it is not a very serious issue. “I can switch off automatically when I am not used for a while”, I thought. “I have a very advanced operating system.”

But Francesc is very sad. To write articles for the blog, he has to make screenshots. And pressing the two buttons of the iPad at the same time makes the screenshots. No on/off button implies no screenshots, and no screenshots implies no articles. Francesc does not use the 3G connectivity anymore. And, for Sara, it does not matter if the on/off button does not work.

But, for iAutism, the on/off button is critical. I know that Francesc has already spent much money in the blog (hosting, software, some translation services to help him with some English parts of the blog…), to buy some apps and some books, and so on. So I thought: Could our readers use an iAutism button, “Donate”, which appears in the bottom of every page, and make a small donation to help paying for my repair and/or some of the costs of maintaining the blog?

Sure it would make Francesc very happy. And, to me, a trip to the Apple repair center would be really great.

-GB019RN6ETU

This post is also available in: Spanish