Ken, and All, here's an early perspective on the Last Mile and Internet communications, written over one-hundred and fifty years ago. Seems to me that it was just as mysterious then, as it is now.
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''Thank you,'' said Monte Cristo, ''and now, please allow me to take leave of you. I'm about to go see something which has often made me thoughtful for hours on end.''
''What is it?''
''A telegraph. I was almost ashamed to say it, but now you know.''
''A telegraph ?'' repeated Madame de Villefort.
''Yes, that's right. I've often seen those black shining arms rising from the top of a hill or at the end of a road, and it has never been without emotion for me, for I've always thought of those strange signs cleaving the air for three hundred leagues to carry thoughts of one man sitting at his desk to another man sitting at his desk at the other end of the line. It has always made me think of genii, sylphs or gnomes; in short, of occult powers, and that amuses me.
"Then one day I learned that the operator of each telegraph is only some poor devil employed for twelve hundred francs a year, constantly occupied in watching another telegraph four or five leagues away. I then became curious to see that living chrysalis at close quarters and watch the comedy he plays for the other chrysalis by pulling on his strings."
''What telegraph are you going to visit ?'' asked Villefort. ''Which line would you advise me to study ?''
''Why, the one that's the busiest now, I suppose.''
''That would be the line from Spain, wouldn't it ?''
''Yes. But you'd better hurry; it will be dark in two hours and you won't be able to see anything.''
''Thank you,'' said Monte Cristo. ''I'll tell you about my impressions when I see you Saturday.''
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From "The Count of Monte Cristo," published in 1844.
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And so it goes.
Regards, Frank Coluccio |
