Most people regard cell towers as a blight on the landscape, but I’m weirdly attracted to them. They’re beautiful in their own strange way, delicate and mysterious. I don’t understand how they work. I can’t tell whether they’re listening or speaking.
Fifty years from now, cell towers will no longer be in use. Most of them will be torn down or converted to other uses. They’ll be a rare sight. Only older people will use cell phones or iPads.
The kids with their "implantcoms" will laugh at the old-timers who still use handhelds. Cell towers will be like sailing ships or neon signs. Artists will paint them in their nostalgic landscapes, and they’ll talk about how beautiful they are.