Seeking to learn the future for themselves or their loved ones, anxious pilgrims would make their way down the tunnel carved into the rockface of Cumae. Deep in the inner chamber, perched on her tripod, enwreathed by a haze of incense, the Sibyl sang their fates…

Struck by the coastal winter gales of Newfoundland, a hexagonal Baden-Powell kite strained against its string and copper wires. Overseeing this windborne receiver, the bright-eyed Italian, Guglielmo Marconi, waited atop the appropriately named Signal Hill for a signal from over two thousand miles away.