Digitized History
Five hours into its cross Atlantic flight, German passenger airship, LZ129 Hindenburg Commander Lehmann announced, ” Ladies and gentlemen, we have just departed the digital free zone, feel free to use your digital devices until further notice”. The behemoth dirigible’s engines whined on as large white caps appeared as small cotton balls upon the cold Atlantic, 5000 feet below. Lackadaisically, the silvery cylinder tooled its way to its final destination of Lakehurst Naval Air Station, New Jersey, USA. 
Bonn photographer, Karl Otto Clemens, aimed his Hasselblad digital camera through the ornate first class cabin. The eager photographer began the first series of air born digital photos from within the airship. As he indiscriminately shot photos of the interior and its passengers, Luftwaffe Colonel, Fritz Erdmann frowned at the young man. “What’s the matter Colonel, afraid I might shoot something top secret?” Clemens cockily asked. Erdmann warned Clemmens that he was not authorized to take digital photos. “Just because we are in international waters doesn’t give you permission to shoot, you must still follow the rules of the digital free space,” bellowed the Colonel. Clemmens reached into his blazer pocket and produced a document and waved it tauntingly under the Colonel’s nose. “This is my ticket to take as many photos as I want and there is nothing you or the Gestapo can do to stop me,” laughed Clemmens. The Colonel turned to his aide and snorted something patriotic and dutiful and Clemmens snapped on. He wasn’t the only person with a camera on board the flight. In fact, several people began shooting pictures and videos from every angle imaginable. It was a virtuoso of image gathering and the Colonel fumed as several passengers sent multiple images to friends and family in the “digital zone”. There was nothing anyone could do to stop the flow of information.
Stockholm correspondent, Berger Brinck spoke in broken English to Chicago’s WLS radio announcer Herbert Morrison over his new mobile phone. “Ya! Za ship ist behind schedule, Mr Morrison. I suspect ve shall arrive sometime on Surzday.” Brinck and Morrison want to coordinate a live feed for radio audiences from inside the airship as it lands. “Alvederzane mine goot friend, I shall see you soon!” Brinck beamed at the prospect of being broadcast live across America. “Zist ist za first time anyone haz attempted an international link up via videophone and I am za first man to ever do zis! ” Brinck’s pride filled him but all around him existed something he hadn’t considered, being that he was from the digital free zone. His self induced exclusivity was going to be squelched by a phenomena not yet discovered by him; citizen journalism!
Out of character, Morrison barked orders at the audio and video crews at the damp New Jersey airfield. He pointed up at the mooring mast prepared for the airship’s docking. “I want this angle as the airship lands and I want the audience to get a feel for how large this thing is!” he ordered. “Use wide-angle lenses!” Morrison seemed outside of himself as he waved his arms and shouted at the crew. “This will be sensational!” he squealed. Like Berger Brinck, Morrison is “old school” journalism and he prides himself as the “voice of what is” and he believes that he can paint the total picture of what is happening no matter what emotion he is experiencing at the time. The network pays him a pretty penny to “tell it like it is” and this time, he has “carte blanche” on the controversial landing of a Nazi airship on American soil. ” I want the digital sound technicians to place microphones as far up the docking tower as possible, ” Morrison yelled. “No problem, boss, we can make it sound like the ship is landing on the audience’s heads!” snickered one of the techs. The entire WLS road crew worked double overtime checking and re-checking every camera angle, microphone placement and spotlight at least three times.
The Hindenburg’s GPS indicated it was 3 hours and 12 minutes and 42 seconds away from docking time. The sunrise beamed its fiery red light upon the coast of Massachusetts and navigator, Max Zabel ordered to turn the ship’s heading to the southwest. Helmsman, Alfred Bernhard eased the wheel slightly and as the ship’s nose pointed southward, red sunlight stretched across the cabin’s interior. “Look, mommy!” shouted 6-year-old Werner Doehner. Matilda, exhausted from the long flight looked out the window towards the ground. Small dots of people waved upward as the giant ship made its first ever pass over American soil. Several people aimed their camera phones upward and recorded the incident. It wasn’t long before the first images of the Hindenburg reaching America hit youtube. Soon, thousands of viewers would see and hear these freshly uploaded videos.
“It’s not as big as they say it is and the engines sound kind of toyish!” said one youtube enthusiast. She began to post a comment along the hundreds of others growing by the second. Opinions from, “its fake” to, “the Nazis are smuggling in a huge bomb to kill us all”, littered the Internet. Collective meaning began to take its elusive shape as individuals formed their own ideas about what was happening. Since the digital zone is fairly new, bitter arguements often arise as the result of a sort of an informational withdrawal symptom because so many years of “packaged news” had people so entrenched in what was told to them was always true. Now, in the digital zone, information flows freely and quickly and everyone has his or her own version of what’s really happening. Meaning is shared and sometimes bitterly discussed!
Major Hans Hugo Witt of the German Luftwaffe nodded his head to Colonel Erdmann. The Colonel rose from his seat and eyed the cabin carefully as he looked for a secluded spot to place a very important phone call. The Colonel pressed the send button to a contact named, “completion”. WLS CEO, Bob Iger answered the phone. “Iger here.” “We must begin the operation,” said Colonel Erdmann in a dry monotone. Iger responded, “It’s finished.” The Colonel hung up and returned to his seat and nodded back at Major Hugo as he buckeled in. The Hindenburg began its descent towards the airfield.
“Damn it!” shouted Morrison. “The citizen journalists are already posting shots of the airship all over the Internet!” “This is my shoot!” Out of sheer frustration, Morrison kicked an orange cone across the tarmac. Off in the distance the moan of the Hindenburg’s engines could be heard. Hundreds gathered as the mamoth ship floated towards its mooring. Ground crews scrambled into position to ready the ship for docking. “Are we live?” asked Morrison. “Call Brinck and let’s roll this shoot!” “Get all the sound and lights fired up!” gasped, Morrison.
Brinck’s blackberry phone ring toned The Ride of the Valkyries. “Ya!” shouted Brinck as he answered the call. “Za commander haz prepared all passengers for arrival!” Morrison grabbed the phone from his assistant. “We are live, inside the cabin of the Hindenburg as it makes its historical landing in America.” We have visual and audio contact with Stockholm correspondent, Berger Brinck. How does it look, Berger?” asked Morrison. Thousands looked on as live streams hit the digital spectrum. Brinck gave his version of what he was experiencing based on the questions Morrison asked. “Za ship is so smooth und za view of za field ist grand. I can see all za people on za ground.” Brinck explained.
Viewers all over America watched as Brinck talked to them “live” from insde the cabin. Juxtaposed camera angles and enhanced sound gave the impression the Hindenburg was larger than life. Back to the cabin, Brinck talked excitedly and as he did, behind him, out of focus two men stood up and looked to be brandishing some kind of cylandrical metal objects. Bright sparks flashed and screams could be heard over the airways. “What is going on, Berger?” shouted Morrison. “Zaire ist smoke, (cough, cough) thick smoke in za cabin.” Brinck’s camera couldn’t focus on anything. 
Passengers began placing calls from within the cabin and found that their phones were dead. Mysteriously, Clemen’s digital camera wouldn’t shoot any photos. The airship bumped into its mooring and people lurched in their seats completely blinded by the white smoke in the cabin. Noise and confusion were interrupted by shouts of commands.
On the ground, hundreds of spectator’s digital devices wouldn’t work either. Morrison and Brinck’s phone call ended abruptly. “Oh the humanity!” wept Morrison as the airship burst into flames. Live network shots showed the horror over and over again as it happened. As it happened. As it really was. As it happened.
The bus full of passengers crossed the Canadian border and most of the people vanished into obscurity. Most of them, German elite. Except for one man, almost 65 years later, Werner Doehner who kept the analog print given to him from photographer, Karl Otto Clemens. Karl always kept a small older camera with film. The print showed two Lufwaffe officers igniting smoke bombs. Werner scanned and posted the photo on his blog. Comments posted said it was a “fake”.
Out of respect for the families who lost loved ones on the Hindenburg: the depictions of actual passengers are dramatized in this fiction.
