Apple’s product philosophy has been stubbornly simple for more than a decade: iPadOS lives on touch-first tablets, macOS lives on keyboards-and-trackpads machines. The company has repeatedly resisted collapsing the two into one platform — and it’s created a gap some users have badly wanted filled. So a determined hardware tinkerer in China did what Apple wouldn’t: he took a MacBook Air, yanked its display, and docked an iPad Pro into its place. The result? A polished, if imperfect, hybrid called the “iPadBook.”

How you build a Frankenstein Mac that feels like an Apple product

Shu Chan — a modder and YouTuber who documents hardware builds — started with a simple idea and a pile of patient iterations. He removed the display assembly from an M1 MacBook Air and designed a 3D-printed replacement hinge and housing that holds an M4 iPad Pro in precisely the right spot. The custom hinge (cheekily named MagBaka) hides a ring of twelve magnets that snap the iPad into place and align it with the MacBook base. The dock itself was printed on a large-format Bambu Lab H2D printer after a dozen-plus prototypes to get fit and strength right.

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On the software side, Chan uses a wired Sidecar arrangement so the MacBook’s macOS treats the iPad as its primary display. Because the MacBook no longer has its internal screen, macOS boots and runs apps with the iPad as the only monitor — which means you can run desktop apps like Photoshop or Final Cut and, crucially, use touch and Apple Pencil input while those apps are open. Chan even added a macOS Shortcut that lets the Air’s keyboard and trackpad control the iPad when needed, smoothing the two-device workflow.

This project is striking for two reasons. First, it’s a literal demonstration that Apple’s software boundaries are, in some sense, artificial: if you can present an iPad as an external display and route touch and Pencil input through it, you get a hybrid experience most people have been asking Apple to build for years. Second, the build highlights the modern maker stack — affordable large-format 3D printing, careful CNC/laser finishing, and creative software workarounds — that lets one person prototype something previously only possible in R&D labs.

Still, it’s a hack, not a product. The iPad’s bezel is slightly narrower than the MacBook’s original screen, the Sidecar cable routing is kludgy in this first version, and there are obvious questions about durability and heat management when you start mixing components that weren’t designed to sit together. Chan has already talked about future iterations — cleaner internal cable routing, using different Mac logic boards for more power, and even retro shell experiments — but for now it’s a proof-of-concept that’s equal parts charm and engineering compromises.

If you’re imagining your own weekend proto-iPadBook, pause. You’re voiding warranties, working with delicate electronics, and effectively combining two expensive devices in a way that can create new failure modes. There’s also the matter of software polish: Sidecar is great, but macOS wasn’t built for the primary display to be an external tablet the base can’t detect as a built-in panel — so edge cases will appear. That said, the iPadBook is exactly the kind of grassroots pressure that sometimes nudges big companies: it proves there’s appetite and shows one practical path forward.

Why Apple probably won’t do this (yet)

Apple’s reticence to unify iPadOS and macOS isn’t just stubbornness — it’s product strategy. The company manages multiple device lines, each with different expectations (battery life, touch UX, window management, security models). Folding macOS into an iPad or adding full touch to macOS would force trade-offs across hardware, software, and the app ecosystem. That’s why, for now, projects like the iPadBook mostly remain exciting contraptions rather than signals of an imminent Apple pivot. The modder’s work, though, makes the cost/benefit trade-offs very visible.

This is how tech ecosystems evolve: a gap in the market, a passionate maker, and a handful of early adopters who care enough to suffer the friction of a DIY solution. The iPadBook isn’t a finished product for most people. But it’s a persuasive prototype — one that real designers at Apple, or elsewhere, will see, measure, and mentally file away. It’s also a reminder that the maker community continues to be a source of product inspiration; sometimes companies watch, sometimes they don’t, but the idea that people want a true touchscreen Mac is now harder to dismiss.