The dream of personal computing is unfettered access and control of powerful hardware that you can make do anything your little heart desires. The reality of personal computing, at least in the internet age, is that you and everyone with a connection has barely fettered access and control of your hardware. I don’t know if you can still plug a Windows XP machine into the Internet without a malware filter and have it turn into part of a botnet overnight, but it sure was that way for a while. I wouldn’t dare stick even a modern Windows 10 machine on the open web without something to protect it.

When anything can be accessed, when there are countless people: individuals, businesses, and states, all poking and prodding to find any possible weakness in the software and hardware we use, something has to give. In the case of Apple, it’s the freedom to run any random app on your iOS devices. Apple vets what is allowed to run on your iPhone and iPad, and it takes modifying the core software to change that. The big fear among some is that this will, eventually, come to the Mac. And this will be the end of days for free, open, personal computing. Hence concern over recent changes to Gatekeeper, the macOS tool for ensuring software is safe, that make it harder to run unsigned apps.

What code signing does is allow a user to know the app in question is being created and distributed by a developer that has, bare minimum, coughed up $99 a year for an Apple Developer Account. The intention is not necessarily a money grab, but a security measure so that Apple, and the user, can know if an app has been modified and identify the author.

It’s not perfect, by any stretch. The BitTorrent client Transmission got malware injected into it, and their code signing key compromised. Twice. If the purpose of code signing is a trust measure to confirm that an app you download and install off the open web is safe, this is a failure, although likely a failure on the Transmission team.

Code signing is also inconvenient. If you don’t have $99 a year to get your Apple Developer ID, you’re stuck up a creek with an unsigned app that is now harder for your potential audience to use. For open source apps, this is a huge pain in the behind, since someone now needs to serve as benefactor if they want a signed Mac version. Not every open source project will want or be able to afford that.

Yet, nearly five-hundred words in, I can’t say I’m terribly upset by this development for the reasons I brought up at the start. Free, unfettered, open computing is dangerous as hell. Being able to arbitrarily execute any piece of code that lands on your computer is a massive risk, and we’ve seen what happens when there’s no protection. If you need a reminder, go spin up an unpatched Windows XP VM or two.

Let’s face it. Users are idiots. All users. Even you and me. Even the top computer security experts, whether they’re working for Apple or the NSA, are liable to do something very stupid when they have to make a decision to keep their computers safe. Hell, case in point, some NSA operative left a powerful hacking tool on a server where it was compromised. What makes you think that you, smart and savvy computer user, won’t accidentally install a compromised executable and turn your machine into part of a botnet?

Restricting the average user’s ability to run random software is, as painful as it might sound, for their safety. It’s protection not just from malicious actors, of which there are many, but protection from their own idiocy. There’s no way to allow a computer to run arbitrary code and protect a user from the consequences thereof. With so much of our lives entangled in a garbage web of privacy, not preemptively locking things down is downright stupid.

Conversely, it should be possible for a user to open those locks. It shouldn’t be easy, it shouldn’t be obvious, and it should require them to absolve their OS provider of choice from responsibility if—or when—something blows up in their face. Digital security is doomed to be a cat-and-mouse game for eternity. That doesn’t mean we should make it easier for the cats in the interest of… what, exactly? The average person does not want to think about how to protect themselves, they just want their stuff to work.

That needs to be the priority: keep everyone safe, and keep everyone running. You can do this without crushing the freedom to make software, even free software. It’s valid to quibble about Apple making their $99/year Developer Program mandatory for developers who just want to make and distribute an app, too. Despite that, a system that offers a signing certificate to anyone with a pulse isn’t going to be secure either. We’re doomed no matter what, but a solution that keeps the user as safe as possible for as long as possible is the best option we have.

So, the chip in the new iPhone is faster than any MacBook Air. The pure silicon power in the A10 is fueling another round of speculation about whether iOS will come to the desktop. It was something floated as an idea here and there for the past few years, but it’s faded into the background as iOS gains more Mac features, and macOS gains more iOS features. Personally, I don’t think iOS will come to the Mac any time soon. What I think will happen is something a bit more radical: a new version of macOS built with the underpinnings of iOS instead.

It’s not as crazy as it sounds. If you recall the original iPhone announcement, Steve Jobs didn’t say the iPhone ran iPhone OS, he said it ran OS X. It’s not exactly OS X, but iOS and macOS have the same technology at the core. iOS also serves as the underpinnings of Apple’s other two operating systems: watchOS and tvOS. Thinking about iOS this way, you can see the development of iOS as stripped-down, mobile and touch optimized version of macOS. In the past decade, it’s been built back up with modern, touch and mobile-focused computing as its focus.

Every version of iOS since the initial release has added new features and extensibility of the type we take for granted in modern desktop OSes. Yes, iOS isn’t at the point where has feature parity with the Mac on an OS level by any measure. It’s not unreasonable to assume that with a few more years of development time that iOS will reach parity with modern macOS. One example of this future is the upcoming Apple File System which is planned to run on all Apple devices. That’s some serious unification.

If the pattern holds, I expect to see a new version of macOS built on the iOS code base, optimizing for desktop features, and possibly even running on ARM chips. There’s almost certainly an ARM version of macOS as know it today running on ARM, but if Apple can jettison the same legacy crap they let go for iOS on the Mac, I don’t see why they wouldn’t. How many of the issues we deal with in on the Mac (not related to outdated hardware) are from fifteen years of accumulated cruft? Or longer, if you count the baggage from the NeXTSTEP days.

None of this is going to happen for a while. We’re only a decade out from the last processor transition in Macintosh hardware. While the Intel transition was pretty seamless, a transition to ARM Macs will bring one major hassle: the loss of Windows compatibility. Perhaps if an A15X chip of some sort is powerful enough to do real-time CPU emulation without a huge speed crunch, it won’t be an issue. Or, maybe, Windows for ARM will become a thing again. Either way, it’ll be a hell of a transition. Apple’s done it twice before, though. I’m excited to see what a desktop OS built on iOS would work like, even if it still looks like macOS. And I’d put safe money down that it will.

The furor over the iPhone 7’s headphone jack, or lack thereof, seems to be fading. It was doomed to be a non-issue anyway, so I’m not surprised. This is, in part, because Apple was so far out in front of the reveal, and because it’s a minor inconvenience at worst. Charging and listening via wired gear at the same time is still a concern, but solutions will come down the pike for that. Just wait a month or two, or join us happy Bluetooth headphone users in the wonderful world of wireless listening. You don’t even need $160 AirPods to do it.

But there’s still some cause for concern with the removal of the headphone jack. It’s just not the concerns I hear a lot of people screaming about. While I’d need to see a teardown to be certain, evidence suggests that the Lightning to 3.5mm Headphone Jack Adapter is about as passive as you can get with a Lightning dongle. It probably consists of a Lightning adapter chip, a Digital to Analog Converter, and an Analog to Digital Converter for the microphone on your headset. Square has already come out and said their old 3.5mm headphone jack-based card reader works with the dongle. Other devices that input audio via that jack should work fine, albeit in mono. [1]

I’ve heard some people float the idea that there could be a DRM lockout in future iPhones, or future versions of the dongle, to prevent unauthorized devices. That’s not likely giving how the headphone jack works. As long as there’s conversion of digital to analog along the path to the speakers, there’s a way to tap it. Even high-resolution, 192k/24-bit audio can be output over 3.5mm, as long as it’s stereo. The PonoPlayer doesn’t have any fancy outputs, just two standard 3.5mm jacks, one amplified and one not. Perhaps there might be a kill switch not to allow output via the Lightning to 3.5mm Adapter, but why? It could easily be bypassed with a third-party adapter, and all Lightning headphones would have a DAC in them anyway. You’d block legit users and potential pirates alike.

Any potential DRM risk is around other audio formats beyond stereo output. Let us imagine a future where Apple Music provides 5.1 surround sound audio. This is a bit preposterous on the face of it, but work with me. While there are “5.1” headphones, they connect over USB, since you can’t output 5.1 sound through the headphone jack. You can, however, output 5.1 through an optical audio port, and most modern Macs combine optical audio and 3.5mm phone jacks, via the Mini-TOSLINK optical audio connector. The hardware overhead of optical audio, however, makes me doubt there will ever be a Lightning-to-Mini-TOSLINK Adapter.

If you want to listen to 5.1 audio out of your iPhone, you’ll have to hook it to something via Lightning. It would be, at least theoretically, possible to capture each channel of the 5.1 signal after it passes through the DAC, but that’s a lot of work for minimal gain. Plus, I have my doubts Apple will ever bother with 5.1 audio on the iPhone or iPad. If streaming and wireless are the future of audio, bandwidth is too constrained to make high-fidelity and 5.1 worthwhile for the near-future. More importantly, most consumers don’t give two shits about high-fidelity audio or surround sound anyway.

So, I’m not worried about a DRM lockout in a headphone jack-free iPhone ecosystem. Unless Apple decides that you can’t connect any old DAC to a Lightning port, or forces everything to go over Bluetooth or a proprietary wireless method, we’ll be in good shape. When it comes to portable devices and audio, the future is wireless, at least for listening. As long as there’s a supported way to get audio out and audio in—which Lightning supports—over wires, things are going to be okay.

I find myself casting a curious glance at the people on my Twitter timeline trying to decide which color of iPhone 7 to get. Should they get the new Matte Black iPhone, or the shiny new Jet Black iPhone? The Jet Black iPhone is a new color, it’s shiny, and it’s gorgeous, but it’s also a fingerprint magnet and Apple even admits it might get scratched up during regular use. However, it is allegedly better feeling in the hand—less slippery. Matte Black is nice too, and doesn’t get scratched up. And does any of this matter if you’re going to be stuffing the darn thing into a case for its lifespan?

The conundrum is a fascinating one, since it says a lot about our relationship to our devices. A few years back I read a great essay on how our devices age with use. The photos of the well-worn, well used original iPhone are gorgeous, both as photography, and subject matter. There’s something about the way the finish has worn away and scratched on that first iPhone that just makes it feel good to me. It’s like a comfortable, old t-shirt.

Later iPhone models with their different cases and finishes don’t age like that. The closest we’ve come is probably the Space Black iPhone 5. The anodization would chip off on the chamfered edges, giving it a rough-and-tumble look after a while. I appreciated the look while I had mine. John Gruber agrees, saying “it added character — call it a Millennium Falcon look.” It’s possible the new Jet Black iPhone will age well too, with the scratches dings, and fingerprints that mark a well-loved device.

But there’s still a contingent of people, a vocal one, who want their devices to look as good as they did when they opened the box on the day they’re replaced. Why is this? Some people are just paranoid about aesthetics, and wear and tear, but there’s more to it. It’s about the relationship we have with our devices. Smartphones are probably the most personal device any of us own. They are on us all the time, even if we’re not actively using them, we feel their weight in our pocket or purse. They are omnipresent.

They are also transient. Used to be if you bought a computer, or some other consumer electronic device, you would keep it for a long time, and maybe upgrade parts of it. My first personal computer, a 486 with 4MB of RAM lasted me from Christmas 1993 to Christmas 1997, when I finally replaced to a Pentium II machine. In the intervening years, I replaced the hard drive, added a CD-ROM and sound card, and upgraded the RAM. Since switching to the Mac in 2005, I’ve had four Mac computers. Since buying my first iPhone in 2009, I’ve had five iPhones. [1]

The smartphone is an annual, or bi-annual upgrade for many people, and this changes the relationship to it. Many of us fund each new device we get by selling the old one. Devices that look new sell for more, end of story. It’s less of a concern if your phone carrier offers a trade-in program for your old phone. Carriers are less concerned about condition, and more that you extend your contact another year. Still, no matter how aesthetically pleasing it is, nobody wants to hand over a device that looks like it’s taken a beating. God knows what that phone store clerk will think of us. So we keep our phones in cases, baby them, and clean them not because we want to protect them for ourselves, but to protect them for the next owner.

By necessity then, the relationship you have is not with an iPhone, but with the iPhone in each of its iterations. I don’t know if I like my iPhone 6S better than my iPhone 5S. I probably like it about the same, all told. The things I like and dislike are different that what I liked about the previous model, and I can extend this all the way back to my first iPhone 3GS—or to the iPod touch I owned before that. All of these devices exist on a continuum marked by upgrades of hardware and software, but the core experience remains the same. This is one of Apple’s strengths. You can go from an original iPhone to the shiny new iPhone 7, skipping everything in between, and still understand the device.

Patrick Rhone recently published his own, interesting thoughts on upgrades. They serve as a solid counterpoint to the transient relationship we have with our phones, and why we upgrade. Patrick’s relationship to his iPhone is as a tool: if it works well enough, and the new one doesn’t have anything that fits his needs, why upgrade? It’s not worth the cost when what he has works well enough. I won’t be upgrading either, for similar reasons—though I also won’t say I’m not tempted. (That Jet Black iPhone is gorgeous, and I wouldn’t mind water resistance having already lost one phone to water damage.)

It’s a question of priority, in the end. I don’t have an answer, I just find the entire conundrum of upgrading and protecting our devices from use to be interesting. I keep my iPhone in a case, not to protect the looks, but because I managed to break my previous model of iPhone a few times without one. I’d rather not go through the hassle of an insurance replacement or a Genius Bar repair if I can help it. My relationship to my phone is different from Patrick’s, different from John Gruber’s, and different from yours. Let’s celebrate that, instead of worrying about a scratch or two on the glossy finish of your new Jet Black iPhone if you got one.

Every day, I become a temporary cyborg. Before I leave for work, I strap a computer laden with sensors on my wrist, and a pair of speakers around my head. They both connect to a computer that I keep in my pocket. It’s only three devices, but they form a small, private network of their own around my body. It’s a network that keeps me informed about the state of my body and anything important that needs my attention, with my smartphone at the center. And all without wires.

When you think about it, this is amazing.

The last decade has seen technology become more personal, and be on our body. We’ve had electronic devices we could keep on our person and on our bodies, of course. Everything from pocket watches to PDAs, from pedometers to iPods have been personal technology. What separates then from now is that, until recently, none of these things could talk to each other. Only by placing a computer in our pocket with an omnipresent connection to the Internet and the ability to talk to other devices without wires, could we conceive of a world where our most personal technology becomes an ecosystem unto itself.

It was never impossible to do this before. Look at Steve Mann at MIT, if you can stand to. What separates the clunky, stone age of wearable technology and sensors from the Bronze Age, is that now we can do it all for relatively cheap, and without wires. Imagine stringing a wire from your wrist to your pocket, maybe under your shirt. String a second wire from your headphones to your pocket. If you’re convinced that augmented reality is the future, how about a third one to your glasses? (I’m still skeptical) Instead, every day, I sit in my own personal cloud of devices that speak to each other, leaving my body free and comfortable. No wires, no muss, no fuss.

Okay, some fuss. Bluetooth has come a long way since high-powered douchebags kept giant glowing Borg implants in their ears hooked up to their Motorola RAZR, but it still has a ways to go. It’s radio, and like most forms of radio, it’s pretty crappy at transmitting through thick bags of water like the human body. Battery life is still an issue, though it’s interesting that my Apple Watch lasts longer on a single charge than the smartphone it connects to. These are all kinks that will be ironed out in time. It’s not hard to imagine a world with more reliable, more power-efficient wireless connectivity, which is why we’re so impatient for it.

The process of getting there is going to be bumpy, and full of temporary inconveniences. In other words, it’s the story of every technological development for the last several millennia. On the other side of it come untold rewards. It will be a boon to accessibility. Smartphone technology has already shown itself to be insanely useful to the blind, and let’s not forget Molly Watts’s powerful piece on how her Apple Watch helps her despite being deaf and mostly blind. The more cumbersome it is to add personal technology to a person’s life, the greater the friction, the less useful it becomes. And, face it, wires are friction. If you’ve ever had to exercise with headphone cables against your skin, it’s literally friction.

The future is wireless. The future is a cloud of our personal devices, talking to each other, helping us know what we need to know, when we need to know it. All of it working seamlessly, all of it working together, and all of it communicating without wires. We won’t be there tomorrow, but we’ll be there soon enough. And we’ll probably wonder how we ever lived without it.