When an Air France Concorde crashed into a hotel shortly after take-off from Paris Charles de Gaulle airport on July 25 2000, killing all 109 people on board and four on the ground, the dream of superfast civilian flight appeared to be over.
Air France and British Airways, the only two airlines to fly Concorde, persisted with their transatlantic flights, but in 2003 they gave up. Passenger numbers, reduced further in the wake of the 9/11 terrorist attacks, never recovered. Concorde was grounded for good, leaving those lucky enough to have flown in it with memories of the cabin-front speedometer showing the build-up to the sound barrier, the slight jerk of the jet’s afterburners just before the aircraft breached it, and the dark purple sky outside as the swept-back, sharp-nosed plane soared close to the edge of space at twice the speed of sound.
When the Air France Concorde crashed, I got my first-ever text message on a fist-sized Nokia, ordering me back to the office. Today, anyone with a phone can watch the news as they walk down the street. If they are on the spot, they can broadcast it to the world. Cars guide motorists to their parking places and are beginning to drive themselves. From your office desk, you can keep an eye on your living room. On your way home, you can order your lights and heating to turn themselves on.
