the trees amongst the outdoor electronic library are growing into the
optical wiring below ground. their roots and branches mingle with the data
pipes and waves that frantically transfer information from one node to the
next. very often, people get caught up in the breakneck speed of
technology and lose track of what they are at the library for: the pursuit
of wisdom. the trees inspire patience in learning. they embody the genius
of categorical organization in a natural and technological environment.
information is not stagnant. information is as much fluid passage as it is
the hardness of data. the computer terminals seem scattered like dead
leaves throughout the forest but they are quite orderly upon further
observation. technology is just as wild and unpredictable as nature. by
allowing for failures, the outdoor library opens itself to evolutionary
development. there is loss. there will always be loss. fried circuits,
lost clusters. the outdoor library does not revert to backups after a
misstep. it moves nward, taking into consideration its experience. as
people wander through its open halls, it follows their footsteps to get a
better handle on the human browsing experience. as the forest physically
bonds with its technological companion, the library observes the order and
chaos of nature. the loss and renewal. it is this natural element of
communal memory and experience that interests the library's numerous
visitors. late at night, people can be found holed up inside the trunk of
a tree, casually scanning the glowing screen of a portable terminal.
