The ET66 is a pocket calculator designed by Rams and Dietrich Lubs for Braun in 1987. Its form is a flat rectangle with a recessed display and raised buttons arranged in a grid, color-coded by function: grey for numbers, orange for operations, dark grey for memory. The simplicity is deceptive. Every dimension was evaluated against the ergonomic requirements of the hand, every button sized for the fingertip, every color chosen to make the calculator's functions immediately distinguishable in use. The ET66 became, for Edo Segal, the founding object of his reflection on AI — the artifact that sits on his desk reminding him, daily, that someone decided what this object would not do, and that the decision to leave things out is the skill he needs most and practices least.
The ET66 was produced during a period when pocket calculators had become commodified — available from dozens of manufacturers at steadily declining prices, with steadily increasing feature counts. Scientific functions, memory banks, programmable modes. The competitive pressure was to add. The ET66 resisted. It performed the arithmetic operations that the overwhelming majority of calculator users actually need, and it performed them with a clarity and reliability that more feature-rich competitors could not match.
The color coding was not decoration. It was functional. In the rapid use that calculators are subjected to — the user glancing at the keypad while concentrating on the numbers rather than the tool — the color differentiation between number keys and operation keys reduces error and accelerates use. The decision required the designer to understand not just what the calculator would do but how the person would use it in the specific contexts of daily work.
In The Orange Pill, Edo Segal describes reaching for the ET66 most days not because he needs it — Claude can run numbers faster than his fingers can press buttons — but because the physical act of reaching for it reminds him of something he keeps forgetting: that someone decided what this object would not do. The ET66 functions in the Rams volume as the concrete instance of the principle it articulates, the object that grounds the abstraction in a specific artifact the reader can hold in his hand.
The ET66 has been reissued multiple times, most recently in 2018 in a direct homage by Braun itself, confirming the principle that designs produced according to Rams's framework endure in ways that designs produced for the moment cannot.
The ET66 was designed jointly by Rams and Dietrich Lubs, who led calculator design at Braun from the 1970s through the 1990s. Lubs was the direct lead on the ET66 and on the earlier ET44 and ET55 calculators, with Rams serving as head of design oversight.
The design was informed by extensive observation of calculator users — accountants, students, engineers, secretaries — and the specific frictions each group encountered in daily use. The color coding, the button spacing, the display characteristics were all derived from this observation.
Specific observation, not abstract principle. The ET66's form was derived from watching specific people use calculators in specific contexts, not from applying abstract design rules.
Invisible decisions. The thousand small choices that distinguish the ET66 — the recess depth of the display, the radius of the corners, the weight in the hand — are invisible to the casual observer but decisive to the user.
Taste as discrimination. The ET66 is the product of cultivated iudicium — the capacity to evaluate artifacts against standards that resist full articulation but manifest reliably in results.
The counterweight to infinite capability. The ET66 does less than Segal's phone, less than his laptop, less than any general-purpose AI. That is why he reaches for it.