A commercial invoice
An invoice whose lines and totals fall where the text puts them, and whose QR code lets a telephone pay the exact sum into the exact account with nothing retyped.
The documents a business sends out every day, produced by the software that already holds the figures.
An invoice, a delivery note, a payslip, a contract, a certificate, a boarding pass, a sheet of shelf labels. These are whole documents rather than pieces of one: each comes out as a file anybody can open, print, send by e-mail or file away, on any machine, without owning any particular program.
Nothing on them is typed twice. The amounts, the addresses and the dates are read out of the system that already holds them — the order, the payroll, the stock list — so the total printed on the page is the total in the accounts, and the two cannot drift apart.
An invoice whose lines and totals fall where the text puts them, and whose QR code lets a telephone pay the exact sum into the exact account with nothing retyped.
The note that travels with the goods: a barcode against each article, a box the receiver ticks, and the consignment's own code.
A payslip: eighteen contribution lines with employee and employer shares, the month against the year to date.
A services agreement over two pages where no clause is ever cut in half by a page turn, ending in signature, name and date fields filled in on screen.
A certificate whose border, ribbon and seal are drawn as lines rather than photographed: sharp at any size, and a fraction of the weight.
A boarding pass carrying, as a QR code, the one line the gates at an airport read — one character out of place and it is refused.
Fifteen shelf labels on one pre-cut sheet, each with its price and its scannable code, and trim marks in the margins. Six numbers describe the paper.
The ticket a counter till prints on a roll 80 mm across: six articles, the tax gathered by rate, the change worked out from the note handed over, and the barcode the shop scans when the ticket comes back.
The sheet a handover of premises produces: a plan of the floor at 1:300 with nine defects marked where they sit, the list of those defects one to a line, and what they come to. The marks stand above the page, and reading software lists them, filters them, and prints them or leaves them off the paper.
Three marks measured on the very words they cover: one showing the reason in the middle of its gap, one repeating it along the length of a wider one, one covering without a word. A mark states what must go; it does not take it out.
Three lots, each travelling as a file of its own, under the columns the document itself states — lot, day sent, total — sorted on the day, newest first. The cover sheet lays the same columns out for reading software that shows no pack.
A press proof carrying the run on the file, the plate on the page and the ink on the colour bar placed twice. None of it is drawn and no reading software shows it: it is there for the program that wrote it.
Four pages carrying three customer statements. Each one claims the pages it runs to, states who it is for and how many copies are owed, and carries its own attachment.
Four personal letters behind a contents page. No letter names a page number: each recipient takes the pages that follow, as many as are needed, and every line of the contents leads to the recipient.