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I guess it’s stating the obvious to say that web technology is nearly ubiquitous now. It’s at critical mass, like electricity—an expected, necessary and nearly overlooked resource that we depend on for our daily work, entertainment, social connections and emotional release.
In a recent article by Tom Vanderbilt in the New York Times Magazine architecture issue describes the infrastructure of our web technology beautifully. As he puts it: “Much of the daily material of our lives is now dematerialized and outsourced to a far-flung, unseen network.”
He illustrates the underpinnings of the Web and its many services: data centers in enormous warehouses, rows of high-power giant Caterpillar generators, miles of cabling between tens of thousands of servers, redundant network feeds.
Then there’s the meta-infrastructure: air conditioning to keep the machines at optimal temperature, security cameras and sensors everywhere, plenty of electricity and backup batteries.
The article reminded me of any of a dozen data centers I’ve seen—and forgotten. They’re blurred in the common blandness of raised floors, lines of servers, routers or other aggregated computing devices, with streams of color-coded cables that are periodically lashed with plastic ties before splitting off to different routes, like highways on a map. The chill, the incessant hum, the artificial and slightly charged scent of the air inside those places—all omnipresent. And all forgettable.
I don’t think about all that infrastructure.
Instead, I just tweet and re-tweet; I write on Facebook walls and update MySpace pages; participate in meet-ups; send out e-invitations. I zoom, edit, crop, organize, upload and geotag my photos, which are all stored in the tag cloud. I fiddle with video editing and post some of the creations on YouTube, embedded in my blog and linked in my Tweetstream. I build my network on LinkedIn, visit virtual forums, keep my profiles current. I bookmark obsessively with Del.ici.ous and Google, I rate Diggs, mark StumbleUpon sites and “star” favorites. I use wikis and predictive markets and collaboration tools, occasionally engage virtually at Second Life. I can’t wait to start Waving. I track and log and monitor way too many things and I’m working up to lifeblogging. I didn’t even mention e-mail, IM, videochat, e-commerce or mobile apps. Whew!
All those things I do depend on those data centers, wires and cables, using disc storage and routers and bandwidth and energy. In all that technology-enabled activity, even while we ignore the infrastructure, I wonder if sometimes we also forget what’s really at the heart of it all.
Communication.
We use all this technology to tell a story. Share information. Provide news. Ask questions and get answers. Sell a service. Define a brand. Help a customer. Offer feedback. Laugh. Ponder. Agitate. Persuade. Provoke. Encourage. Challenge. Sometimes listening, sometimes just striking a match in the darkness. All to make a connection with another human.
As communicators, this entire infrastructure and the untold applications are there for us.
In my perspective, it’s a little humbling and a lot exciting. It’s why I care about technology, why I love experimenting with and learning about it all: It’s all about a basic human need—making connections—and communicating in new ways.
What could be more fun?
Nancy Shawver, a former editor and executive with The Kansas City Star and Sprint, now operates a communication consulting firm in Kansas City, Missouri. You can find her blog at www.nancyshawver.net. |
