And Edison’s team demonstrating
The first version of the phonograph
Lay the in-between generations
Of history in which speech could be
Noted down but not preserved as heard.
Now professors have audiobooks,
Not dictated but written, then read
Back to them by voice professionals.
Speech has become immortal, announced
The Scientific American
After Edison’s demonstration,
Nine decades before Arthur C. Clarke
Ruled any sufficiently advanced
Technology (what’s sufficiently?)
Indistinguishable from magic.
The Edison team’s first phonograph
Actually proved something rather
Different—that it’s not how advanced
The technology, but how novel.
Tech’s distinguishable from magic
But, until the tech’s sufficiently
Familiar, it does seem magical—
Just as magic, incidentally,
Even real, would seem impossible
Only until made common enough
To be a daily technology,
As misunderstood as all the rest.
It wasn’t more than a century
From the first phonograph cylinder
To golden records shot into space.
So, is speech now truly immortal?
That’s just a rhetorical question,
Of course. Speech is less evanescent
In well-recorded circumstances,
But it depends on the medium.
Everything depends on, everything
Itself is, some kind of medium.
Before bits coded for sound or print,
Before analog grooves dug through wax,
Before quill and ink blotted paper,
Before caves were splattered with ochre,
The human brain served as medium,
Speech and gestures as the transmission
Means to store more immortals in brains.
Languages invented immortals,
Each and every immortality
That technologies have pretended.
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