We pick up a pebble, study it, launch it into a nearby pool of water, watch for a splash, and smile. We pick up a larger stone, weigh it up in the palm of our hand, fling it as far as an outstretched arm can reach, grin as the splash startles a nearby bird. We pick up a weightier rock, legs set firm, no let’s talk a run, launch that demonstrator of our cunning and strength and see if we can hit a target, yesss!  We look around for a boulder, heavier than us, roll it, roll it, to the cliff’s edge, and see it take on a spin of its own… It does, and what it takes in its path is a whole consequence of destruction as it tears down the hillside, bouncing off the rock face, loosening ground and wild tufts of growth, bringing it all tumbling down with a resounding crack, as it stamps itself upon the destination … we curiously wondered about.

It’s in the nature of human curiosity to explore, push out and back, and with much bravado sail into the unknown. And so Twitter was created and the surface gently skimmed by tweet pebbles, curiously looking for smiles.  Early adopters saw the opportunity to create ripples and came laden with strategies to create ways to build, delight and startle their audience. The media, by gush and by lash, called for attention, and sure enough the backlash of rock throwers and pebble skimmers created a wave-pool phenomenon, pulling the waters every which way, with new puddles appearing all over and increasingly straining the resources, like the holes in Swiss cheese.

What happened next was only a matter of time. A malicious boulder was bound to bowl in on the act and tear down those diligently created, lovingly narcissistic silky webs of the spinners and the spun. The question today is whether curiosity will unravel or consume what is left after the havoc.