To many, he was a crazy man.
Some 73 years ago, on 9 April 1953, a captain of the communications industry, Mark Sullivan—President and Director of the Pacific Telephone and Telegraph Company in Pasadena, San Francisco, USA—made a futuristic prediction about what the telephone of the future would look like.
He was addressing fellow captains of industry in the country.
This then unimaginable prediction was graciously published in the local daily The Tacoma News Tribune two days later, on 11 April 1953. I quote:
“Just what form the future telephone will take is, of course, pure speculation. Here is the prophecy:
In its final development, the telephone will be carried about by the individual, perhaps as we carry the watch today. It probably will require no dial or equivalent, and I think the users will be able to see each other, if they want to, as they talk.
Who knows, but what it may also actually translate from one language to another.”
Wow! Does that sound familiar?
Remember, that was some 73 years ago—a time when the telephone was like a cow’s horn, and one had to speak and listen alternately, from one end and then the other. I wish Mr Sullivan could rise from the dead and witness his prophecy unfolding in real time.
Indeed, things are changing—and changing very fast. The time may come when we will not even have mobile handsets. Perhaps we shall carry tiny gadgets pinned to our lapels, transmitting sound, messages and images as we go about our daily business. That is my own “prophecy”.
Consider what happened to the gramophone. Remember vinyl records—handled with great care, as they could easily break on impact. One had to wind up the music box to make the record spin.
A tiny needle was then placed on the record to capture the music from the grooves. The needle was attached to a diaphragm, which in turn was connected to a horn. Vibrations travelled to the diaphragm, which vibrated and produced sound—music at last.
The DJ had, among other duties, to remain on standby to wind up the box whenever the record slowed down.
Before long, this was overtaken by automation. Smaller records could be stacked on a deck, allowing one record to drop and play after another. Those of my era will recall the popular Philips GF 148 record players.
Then came cassette recorders. Music cassettes became the order of the day, and disco gigs required hundreds of those small boxed tapes.
Soon afterwards, these were overtaken by CD players—digitally encoded recordings on optical discs, smaller than phonograph records and played back by laser. All music was suddenly on compact discs. I still have one in my contraption: a run-down and dilapidated old Toyota car.
But do I use it? No. The system has simply whizzed past me.
Almost immediately came the USB (Universal Serial Bus), whereby thousands of songs could be stored on a tiny chip and easily selected and played anywhere. And still, that was not the end.
Now we have Bluetooth, which enables anyone with a mobile phone (simu janja) and the right gadgets to play music from any part of the world at a social gathering. In effect, the new generation can now download music from the air.
The same astronomical changes have taken place in other sectors. Take the motor industry, for example. When I was born, cars were started by cranking an iron bar inserted into the engine at the front.
One had to stand in front of the vehicle and manually turn the bar to start the engine. I was always worried that one day the car might suddenly lurch forward and run someone over.
Today, one simply presses a button and the car comes to life. One can even select the desired temperature and music before stepping inside.
And now I read about flying cars.
Look around you. Every facet of life is changing—and changing rapidly. We must flow with the tide and embrace these changes; otherwise, we risk becoming the Neanderthals of the modern age.
