The 1990s were a curious era. We had Crystal Pepsi, the Macarena, and let’s not forget Tickle Me Elmo. Yet, one of the most annoying aspects of that decade was the sluggishness of the Internet. Whenever I needed to email a PowerPoint presentation for school, I’d connect the modem, endure the beeps and whistles, initiate the upload, and then head off for dinner, hoping my email would be sent by the time I returned.
If I was pressed for time, though, I had a trick: file compression, often referred to as “zipping.” Tools like WinZip could take an 80 MB PowerPoint file, compress it, and shrink it down to a ZIP file that was only a third of the original size. At first, I thought nothing of this magic, but as I pondered it more, I realized that compressing files felt like an enigma. The file was smaller, yet no data was actually lost, allowing the recipient to recreate the original. It was akin to packing a 6-foot long object into a 2-foot box and having it magically return to its original form on the other end. Where did all that data go in between?
Deflating the Package
The package analogy gives us a hint. Imagine if the item being shipped could be deflated, like an inflatable exercise ball. Instead of sending it intact, you could simply deflate it and place it in a smaller box, with a note to re-inflate it upon arrival. However, this only goes so far: the ball’s mass is primarily made of air, which is easy to lose. But if WinZip started deleting bits from my carefully crafted presentation, I’d be furious. What can be removed from a PowerPoint file?
Computers employ strategies similar to how we humans process information. Take, for example, a drummer learning a complex piece of music, like Ravel’s “Boléro.” This composition features an astonishing 4,050 drumbeats, making it quite a challenge to memorize. However, the snare part is remarkably repetitive, consisting of a simple 24-beat sequence played over and over. Recognizing this redundancy simplifies the task; instead of memorizing every single note, the drummer can focus on just one “chunk” of information.
This is precisely how file compression works. Much like a musician finds patterns in music, a compression algorithm identifies repeating sequences in the file and replaces them with shorthand notations. For instance, if my school project included the phrase “How much wood could a woodchuck chuck if a woodchuck could chuck wood?” (Yes, I was a peculiar child), the program would note the repetitions of “wood,” “could,” and “chuck” and substitute them with simple references—let’s say “X,” “Y,” and “Z.” These redundant elements are the “air” that gets eliminated from the document.
Of course, the receiving computer must understand the shorthand. Thus, the compression program creates a symbol table, similar to instructions for re-inflating that exercise ball. This table enables the receiving computer to accurately reconstruct the original file.
The Tradeoff Between Size and Convenience
The concept of redundancy raises questions about why my original PowerPoint files are so large. Why store an 80 MB file when a mere 30 MB will suffice? PowerPoint’s designers were well aware of compression techniques, but file size wasn’t their only concern. Imagine if you had to inflate and deflate your exercise ball every time you wanted to use it—while it would be space-efficient, it would also be incredibly inconvenient. Similarly, computers face the same challenge: a balance between space efficiency and user convenience. If every file had to be decompressed for access, our digital experience would mirror the slow, frustrating days of 56K modems.
For both humans and machines, redundancy is a delicate balance. Too little, and you find yourself constantly re-learning the same information. Too much, and your internet connection struggles to handle the flood of data from streaming services. Thankfully, we usually find the right equilibrium. It’s this combination of redundancy and compression that allows us to download and enjoy films like “The Shawshank Redemption” and “Braveheart” smoothly on our laptops. Perhaps the ’90s weren’t so bad after all.
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Summary
This article explores the intriguing phenomenon of data compression, comparing it to human learning and memory. It highlights how computers efficiently manage redundancy without compromising the integrity of files, drawing parallels with music memorization. The balance between size and convenience is emphasized, along with the importance of compression in modern technology.