LOOKING INTO THE FUTURE.

Waipawa Mail, Volume XLVIII, Issue 86, 13 April 1927, Page 2 (Supplement)

LOOKING INTO THE FUTURE.

Marconi Takes a Peep

REFUSES TO PROPHESY, BUT-!

A LITTLE more than a quarter of a century ago a young Italian stood *** on the coast of Newfoundland with something akin to ordinarv telephone receivers at his ears and seemed earnestly engaged in flying a kite. Attached to this kite was a long steel wire. On the Cornish coast of Great Britain—about 2000 miles distant from Newfoundaland across a waste of tumultuous sea —another man was preparing to send a signal into space, hoping that it might reach the ears of the young Italian. Could such a thing be possible? Was this not a dream, that through hundreds of miles of space one man might send a sound message, that could be heard by another man in another hemisphere Suddenly out of the freezing December air the kite-flyer cleariy distinguished the three dots, the letter "s" of the Morse code. It was the first sound to be transmitted across the ocean without aid of a cable; it spelled victory. That letter “s’ 1 sent from Great Britain to Newfoundland was, indeed, a message heard round the world. The young Italian was Guglielmo Marconi. A STRANGE MIXTURE. Senator Marconi is not given to talk. He is affable and hospitable, but he shuns publicity. He is, in truth, a strange mixture: a man of tremendous achievement but apparently unconscious of the fact. He must have wonderful dreams of the future, of the powers that will come to serve the needs of mankind; yet the practical outlook he takes causes one to think that Budyard Kipling might have had him in mind when he wrote: If you can dream and not make dreams your master. . . It is certain that Guglielmo Marconi has dreamed fine dreams, but he has never made dreams his master. On the contrary, he has mastered his dreams—or many of them. "What about the future —say the next twenty-five years?" he was asked. “I live and work in the present," Senator Marconi answered quietly. "And do you never dream of the future?” "Yes, I dream sometimes." "Of a world run by wireless?" "Perhaps Ido sometime visualise a world run by wireless. But I live in the present and work in the present, and that is sufficient. "Wireless is electricity. I believe the next quarter century will sec developments in the wireless field quite as important as those which marked the last twenty-five years. I am, as you know, unalterably opposed to entering the realm of prophecy. But, aside from the transmission and reception of wireless messages, I believe there are two great outstanding things that will most likely be developed before long. Looking into the future, I believe there is coming the transmission of power by wireless. I am further convinced that the perfection of television and moving pictures by radio will be realised. Both have been accomplished in a small w r ay. Power has been transmitted over short distances. Other experiments show that moving pictures by radio are possible." PICTURES AND POWER BY WIRELESS. "Have you met the young English inventor of television? He seems a dreamy sort of boy." "Boys’ dreams sometimes come true," he replied. For the moment it seemed as if he had let his thoughts fly over the years and that again he was a young man standing on the coast of Newfoundland straining his ears to catch the "dot, dot, dot” flung into space from the Cornish coast. "Would you say that moving pictures by radio will be an accomplished fact within ten years?” "Yes," was the reply. "With regard to the transmission of power ?” "I must leave that to your imagination," he quickly rejoined. "The beam system may be adopted for the transmission of power. Employing the beam system—power sent out in fixed parallel .lines—theoretically every bit of power sent out will be received at any distance. Without the beam system the power will spread out as a funnel or as an open fan and most of it wasted. Again, much of it could be stolen by any Tom, Dick or Harry who cared to put up the proper receiving set for utilising it.” "Will we have one or more great power stations with numberless parallel beams carrying power through the air to its wanted destination?" was the next query. There is much to be done before such a thing is a practical solution of the transmission of power," said Senator Marconi. "Although ships and airplanes have been steered by wireless and power has been transmitted short distances in other experiments, it is still a far cry to the time w'hen all the power man requires for his numberless needs will be delivered to him through the air in full force and at the exact spot where he requires it. A great deal is still to bo done before such a thing can become an actual fact, but I believe it is coming." HARNESSING NATURE. Mr Marconi was asked if the forces of nature—tides, the wind, the sun—would be harnessed to give power that could be broadcast. "You ask me again to enter the realm o£ phophecy,” he replied. "Who can say? The tides have been harnessed to a very limited extent. There may be further development in that line that will prove it practical for the generating of immense power. As for the winds, they are too variable and cannot be counted upon to do much more than they do to-day—drive a windmill or a sailing ship. The potential power in tho heat of the sun is unlimited." "But the sun does not always shine." "The heat of the sun," went on Senator Marconi," is in the air. It is there, rain, fog or clear. There are possibilities of extracting that heat and putting it to work. After all, heat is power." He leaves a distinct imaginary picture of a future world run by wireless. The impression of that future may be entirely unwarranted by tho remarks of the inventor, but two hours’ conversation with him left an indelible impression of a changed world. The outstanding feature of that changed world is its cleanliness. The second is its compactness. A CHANGED WORLD. In the years to come, perhaps, the sootiest cities of the world—London or Manchester or Pittsburg—will be sootless. The high, ungainly chimneys that belch forth smoke in great industrial centres will have vanished. In fact, all chimneys will have vanished. Sentiment may demand for a space the comfort and cheeriness of an open fire—but who can say that flame may not be supplied by wireless? Coal and oil may become a drug on the market in so far as they will be used for generating power. Gasoline, for such trivial purposes as cleaning my lady’s glove, may linger for a while. Other by-products may still have their uses, but the motor-car of the future will likely draw its power from the ether, as will ships and locomotives and factory engines. Wires will disappear. A telephone or telegraph pole, a gas pipe or a gas tank, a filling station, or tank steamer or a tank car, will be but relics of a bygone day. Such is the possibility. Why continue? It leaves one at a loss to picture such a future—a future that is apparently close at hand. The contemplation of such things, in the w'ords of Keats — Doth tease us out of thought as doth Eternity. Senator Marconi’s admonition —when we think of the innumerable potentialities—seems most appropriate: "I must leave to your imagination the uses which can be made of these new powers.” But even’ the imagination staggers under the promised possibilities.