As time marched on, the tablet manufacturers were under more and more pressure to service the needs of the typical tablet user. The list of items requested was lengthy.

At first the users were happy. They enjoyed their tablets. They enjoyed the mobility. They enjoyed the connectivity. They were content, but not enthusiastically happy. Soon they wanted more.

“Why can’t we have some office software,” they asked. “We need to write memos, and to jot down short notes. We need something to read worksheets and perhaps even edit them — just a tad.”

The software developers protested. “It’s a tablet!” they explained. “It’s a passive device, used for sharing not creating.” But then they relented, market forces being what they are.

Next the users wanted more storage. They were unhappy with 32GB. “Here,” said the manufacturers, “How about 64GB?” But the users continued to complain. “We need 500GB of storage! If we’re to edit our documents, make presentations, and work with spreadsheets, we need all that storage!”

And so the manufacturers relented again.

Still, the users continued to be unhappy. They wanted something more effective than an onscreen keyboard. They wanted a real keyboard, specifically one that would attach to the tablet so it wouldn’t get lost. And real, movable keys.

On top of the keyboard, they demanded expandability. “Give us USB!” they cried. They needed external storage, and maybe a mouse.

Could nothing satisfy the users? They wanted so much out of the tablet that the original purpose for tablet computing was lost.

Rather than risk their profits, the tablet manufacturers complied with the users’ demands. In the end, they developed what they felt was the perfect mobile computing device, the tablet the users all wanted in the first place. And that device looked something like this: