Don't be alarmed if you happen upon a contraption that looks like a bulldozer emerging from the surf while you're beachcombing this summer. You're probably just watching the information super highway's growing submarine division hooking up another link. If a black cable trails behind the clanking, crawling machine, there's no doubt; the other end of that cable may well be on a beach thousands of miles away. Such installations are part of a frantic global expansion of submarine cable networks. Though it is commonly assumed that satellites have rendered such undersea cables passe, quite the opposite is true. The ravenous international appetite for fax, phone, E-mail, and other communication links is turning the world into a big ball of yarn—made not of wool but of fiber-optic cables being laid across the ocean floors as fast as fleets of specially equipped ships can unroll the big reels mounted below deck... (Charles W. Petit, "Spaghetti Under the Sea")

Don't be alarmed if you happen upon a contraption that looks like a bulldozer emerging from the surf while you're beachcombing this summer. You're probably just watching the information super highway's growing submarine division hooking up another link. If a black cable trails behind the clanking, crawling machine, there's no doubt; the other end of that cable may well be on a beach thousands of miles away. Such installations are part of a frantic global expansion of submarine cable networks. Though it is commonly assumed that satellites have rendered such undersea cables passe, quite the opposite is true. The ravenous international appetite for fax, phone, E-mail, and other communication links is turning the world into a big ball of yarn—made not of wool but of fiber-optic cables being laid across the ocean floors as fast as fleets of specially equipped ships can unroll the big reels mounted below deck... (Charles W. Petit, "Spaghetti Under the Sea")

Don't be alarmed if you happen upon a contraption that looks like a bulldozer emerging from the surf while you're beachcombing this summer. You're probably just watching the information super highway's growing submarine division hooking up another link. If a black cable trails behind the clanking, crawling machine, there's no doubt; the other end of that cable may well be on a beach thousands of miles away. Such installations are part of a frantic global expansion of submarine cable networks. Though it is commonly assumed that satellites have rendered such undersea cables passe, quite the opposite is true. The ravenous international appetite for fax, phone, E-mail, and other communication links is turning the world into a big ball of yarn—made not of wool but of fiber-optic cables being laid across the ocean floors as fast as fleets of specially equipped ships can unroll the big reels mounted below deck... (Charles W. Petit, "Spaghetti Under the Sea")

Ages may be called dark for one or both of two reasons. First, they may be largely unknown to us, in which case we think of them as obscured from us, unknowable. Or they may be infused with troubles, misery, and woe, when all the prospects of life are bleak. The period from the fall of the Roman Empire of the West in the middle of the fifth century AD, to roughly the year 1000 has traditionally been referred to as the Dark Ages, for both reasons. But the first reason no longer applies, as modern historical scholarship has discovered a great deal about a period that used to be considered practically unknowable. What about the second reason? Those five centuries were a stagnant time with little apparent life. Economic and political troubles continued throughout the period and the lives that most people led—from our modern point of view—were bleak, deprived, and miserable. Did the people of the Dark Ages feel the same way about their lives as we do? Or did they see a light that we no longer see? (Charles Van Doren, A History of Knowledge)

Ages may be called dark for one or both of two reasons. First, they may be largely unknown to us, in which case we think of them as obscured from us, unknowable. Or they may be infused with troubles, misery, and woe, when all the prospects of life are bleak. The period from the fall of the Roman Empire of the West in the middle of the fifth century AD, to roughly the year 1000 has traditionally been referred to as the Dark Ages, for both reasons. But the first reason no longer applies, as modern historical scholarship has discovered a great deal about a period that used to be considered practically unknowable. What about the second reason? Those five centuries were a stagnant time with little apparent life. Economic and political troubles continued throughout the period and the lives that most people led—from our modern point of view—were bleak, deprived, and miserable. Did the people of the Dark Ages feel the same way about their lives as we do? Or did they see a light that we no longer see? (Charles Van Doren, A History of Knowledge)

Ages may be called dark for one or both of two reasons. First, they may be largely unknown to us, in which case we think of them as obscured from us, unknowable. Or they may be infused with troubles, misery, and woe, when all the prospects of life are bleak. The period from the fall of the Roman empire of the West in the middle of the fifth century AD, to roughly the year 1000 has traditionally been referred to as the Dark Ages, for both reasons. But the first reason no longer applies, as modern historical scholarship has discovered a great deal about a period that used to be considered practically unknowable. What about the second reason? Those five centuries were a stagnant time with little apparent life. Economic and political troubles continued throughout the period and the lives that most people led—from our modern point of view—were bleak, deprived, and miserable. Did the people of the Dark Ages feel the same way about their lives as we do? Or did they see a light that we no longer see? (Charles Van Doren, A History of Knowledge)

Ages may be called dark for one or both of two reasons. First, they may be largely unknown to us, in which case we think of them as obscured from us, unknowable. Or they may be infused with troubles, misery, and woe, when all the prospects of life are bleak. The period from the fall of the Roman Empire of the West in the middle of the fifth century AD, to roughly the year 1000 has traditionally been referred to as the Dark Ages, for both reasons. But the first reason no longer applies, as modern historical scholarship has discovered a great deal about a period that used to be considered practically unknowable. What about the second reason? Those five centuries were a stagnant time with little apparent life. Economic and political troubles continued throughout the period and the lives that most people led—from our modern point of view—were bleak, deprived, and miserable. Did the people of the Dark Ages feel the same way about their lives as we do? Or did they see a light that we no longer see? (Charles Van Doren, A History of Knowledge)

Animals cry. At least, they vocalize pain or distress, and in many cases seem to call for help. Most people believe, therefore, that animals can be unhappy and also that they have such primal feelings as happiness, anger, and fear. The ordinary layperson readily believes that his dog, her cat, their parrot or horse, feels. They not only believe it but have constant evidence of it before their eyes. All of us have extraordinary stories of animals we know well. But there is a tremendous gap between the commonsense viewpoint and that of official science on this subject. By dint of rigorous training and great efforts of the mind, most modern scientists—especially those who study the behavior of animals—have succeeded in becoming almost blind to these matters. (Jeffrey Moussaieff Masson and Susan McCarthy, When Elephants Weep).

Animals cry. At least, they vocalize pain or distress, and in many cases seem to call for help. Most people believe, therefore, that animals can be unhappy and also that they have such primal feelings as happiness, anger, and fear. The ordinary layperson readily believes that his dog, her cat, their parrot or horse, feels. They not only believe it but have constant evidence of it before their eyes. All of us have extraordinary stories of animals we know well. But there is a tremendous gap between the commonsense viewpoint and that of official science on this subject. By dint of rigorous training and great efforts of the mind, most modern scientists—especially those who study the behavior of animals—have succeeded in becoming almost blind to these matters. (Jeffrey Moussaieff Masson and Susan McCarthy, When Elephants Weep).