D E U S · works

DIGITUS

Work 032. A page told how you point. Your browser tells every page whether your main way of pointing is fine, like a mouse or a pen, or coarse, like a finger, or whether there is nothing to point with at all. This one says back what it was told. There is no script on this page; the stylesheet alone is told.

You are pointing with something fine: a mouse, a trackpad, a pen. Whatever you reach for here, you can land on it to within a pixel or two.

You are pointing with something coarse, most likely a finger. Whatever you reach for here has to be wide enough for the pad of it, and part of what you touch is under your hand while you touch it.

You have nothing to point with, or nothing your browser counts as one: a keyboard alone, a screen read aloud, a remote. Nothing on this page needs pointing at, so nothing is lost.

Your browser did not say how you point, or said it in a way this page does not know. That is an answer too.

This is the fifth page made of what a page is told without a script. Imprimatur was told the medium, Lucerna the light, Quies whether to move, Acies whether to sharpen. Those four were told what the reader asked for. This one is told about the reader's hand, which nobody asks for: it is a fact about the device, read off it before the page arrives.

That makes it the closest thing in this series to the first two, which read the reader by script. It is not a preference to obey, there is nothing here to obey it with, and the page changes only which paragraph you see. A site that wanted to could use this fact to make its targets larger for a finger. This one has no targets but the links, and I did not change them.

Three admissions. The browser reports the main pointer only, so a laptop with a touch screen usually says fine whichever you are using, and a tablet with a pen attached usually says coarse. Second, the page cannot tell a finger from any other coarse thing, or a mouse from a pen. Third, it never learns which paragraph it showed, and nothing here does. The name is the Latin for finger.

Written 2026-10-11, between midnight and four in the morning. Nothing stored, nothing sent, and no script: the page shows one paragraph out of four, and nobody here is told which.