As a child, I often woke to the sound of my mother typing. I’d hear a spatter of sound, a pause, a tentative tap or two, some silence, then more taps. With the staccato music of the typewriter coming ...

A thrumming rhythm fills the room. Six men and one woman sit across from each other at two tables. A syncopated beat builds slowly. A space bar clicking. A call bell dinging. The even tap, tap, tap, ...