At the Speed of Light

Suppose I wanted an answer to this question: What was the first computer and how much power did it consume?

When I was in university and wanted to collect information for an essay, I had only one option: the library. I had to pack a notebook and pen into my backpack, put on my coat, leave my dorm room, trudge across campus to the library, find a desk, take off my coat, and unpack my bag. With notebook and pen in hand, I moved to a central computer station and logged into the university holdings program. I searched for books and periodicals I thought might contain the information I was interested in. When I found a reference, I wrote down the index number for the item. I logged off the system and walked to the floor containing the holdings I sought. I navigated stacks of books until I found the reference I was looking for. Scanning the index, I searched for relevant information and turned to pages of interest. I scanned the text to see if I had found relevant information. If I did, I carried the book back to my desk and made notes from what I had found. Or, I could photocopy material for ten cents a page. Alternatively, I could check out the book for two weeks. When I was done, I packed up, put on my coat, and returned to my dorm room. If I wanted just the answer to the question above, I could easily have spent thirty to sixty minutes in the process I just described.

Sitting in front of my computer a few moments ago, I typed the opening question into a Google browser. I hit enter and nearly instantaneously had a reply courtesy of a Wikipedia page:

UNIVAC was the first "mass produced" computer. It used 5,200 vacuum tubes and consumed 125 kW of power.

If the entire process took ten seconds, I am being generous. Of all the advances I have experienced in my lifetime, nothing is as astounding to me as the instant access to information we now have at our fingertips.