Harran blinks in the sunlight, adjusting his eyes. He’s an inquisitive child, enthusiastic for all things new, yet still he struggles to understand what he’s looking at. A man is pressing marks—triangles or wedges—into a piece of clay, explaining that in this way he can speak to people, even when he isn’t there. Although the boy can’t yet grasp how it works, he understands that this will change everything.

I can empathize. More than five thousand years later, the most dedicated linguists still haven’t managed to completely crack the system of writing developed in Harran’s homeland of Sumer. I think of him in this distant, dusty place and wonder what he has in common with today’s children—more than one might imagine. Fast-forward from ancient sand to silicon wafers, and we find ourselves in a world where, once again, everything is about to change.

 …