Morse code spells with two lengths of beep and three lengths of silence. Type a message to hear it sent, or hold the key and tap out your own to watch it turn back into letters.
Type a message and play it.
Tap out code and the tape decodes it.
Hold the knob or Space. A short press is a dot and a long one a dash. Pause to end a letter and pause longer for a space. Watch the marks on the tape run up to the pen.
Every letter is a path. Each dot steps up and each dash steps down. Tap a letter to hear it.
International Morse code. Tap any character to hear it.
···−−−···, with no letter gaps. Tap it without pausing on the Receive key and see what comes out.A dot lasts 1200 ÷ WPM milliseconds. Even at 5 WPM a dot lasts 240 ms, and at any faster speed it's over before anyone could react to it.
Gamers aren't much quicker. Professional esports players are famous for fast hands, but a 2021 study by Bickmann and colleagues found that pros reacted no faster than amateurs or other athletes on simple tests with lights and sounds. Everyone hits roughly the same floor of a couple hundred milliseconds. Pros win by reading the game and anticipating what comes next.
Telegraphers did it for a living. This isn't a modern hobbyist's trick. Once operators learned to copy by ear instead of reading paper tape, copying by sound became the job. Railroads, newspapers, stock exchanges and armies ran on operators listening all day, often at 20 WPM or more, where every dot is 60 ms or shorter.
They did what pros do. Nobody copying at 30 WPM hears dot, dash, dot. Each letter arrives as one sound, a rhythm like di-dah-dit for R, the same way you read a word without spelling it out. Good operators copy several words behind the signal and keep the message in their heads, much like a pro thinking a few moves ahead.
The hands were busy too. PARIS has 14 dots and dashes, so 30 WPM on a straight key means about 7 presses a second, around 420 a minute. That's in the range of the few hundred actions per minute top StarCraft players are known for. In 1860 a 17-year-old Jesse Bunnell sent President Buchanan's last message to Congress at about 32 WPM and kept it up for two hours. Professionals keyed so much that they got "glass arm," a repetitive strain injury, and in 1888 Bunnell invented a sideways key to ease it. Gamers' wrists have the same problem today.
The record is from 1939. Ted McElroy copied 75.2 WPM in a contest that year, and it's still the official record. Some operators say they've copied faster since, but none of those claims are official.