Let me tell you a story.

Once upon a time, there was a girl. This girl grew up in privilege, with a large and loving family and many opportunities. She wandered the halls of learning at will, picking up knowledge and turning it over in her mind before setting it down on a shelf for future use. All knowledge, after all, had a place, even if she hadn't found out where that was.

While she was growing, so was the world. And the world grew and heaved and changed, and the machinery of the world stretched out to connect person to person in ways humanity had never been connected before, faster and brighter. Eagerly she reached out her hands and plunged her fingers into box, into the wires and among the lights. And she learned how to work the pieces and how to make her own connections, and also why and when and to be cautious. As with all knowledge, it had sharp edges.

The girl grew into a woman and had less time for such things, although she kept an eye on the machinery as it developed new complexities and connections and occasionally she dipped her hand in the box to play with the wires. They were still her familiar friends. And one day, when the world had been upheaved again, her mother put the box back into her hands and said "Here, I think you could make something of this."