Data takes up space. The space it takes up — and the water, land and electricity that get used in taking it up — remains, for the most part, out of sight, out of mind and utterly uninteresting to actually look at.
-Ingrid Burrington, The Cloud is not the Territory
The
relationship between data to space extends beyond the network
equipment, services, and mobile devices that transmit and present
information to a user. Pervasive wireless connectivity and ubiquitous computing,
as ‘the cloud’ are central, common elements of contemporary urban life.
Data centers translate, as it were, between individuals and their
experience of the city by mediating experiences through digital
augmentation. An example of this is Google Maps’
locative ability to place the user on the map and then orient said user
to wherever they need to go. While data is largely immaterial except in
the action it enables, like getting you to your meeting with that map,
the storage, maintenance, and transmission of data require many layers
of interfacing telecommunication infrastructure that function nearly
everywhere but are always, inherently embedded in particular places.
In daily life, we typically experience ‘the cloud’ as the latent
potential of data and digitized information in general to do things for
us: to tell us information such as the weather today or when a bus will
arrive, how to navigate between new places, or as a a quick glance at a
document stored between multiple devices before a meeting. While we
experience this data through a screen, whether smartphone or a
larger-screened tablet/laptop/desktop, ‘the cloud’ as this
electromagnetic, immaterial but impactful thing resides in specific
places. The creation, maintenance, and transmission of data to and
between users necessitates an immense, world-spanning telecommunications
infrastructure that, as Ingrid Burrington’s recent writing for The Atlantic
has explored in wonderful detail. ‘The cloud’ is extremely physical and
not at all ephemeral nor ‘cloudlike’. For ‘the cloud’ to function
requires a distributed, interconnected system of servers, fiber-optic
cables, and network equipment such as cellular antenna sites, wi-fi
routers, and so on that form an digital, infrastructural geography of
data, a geography of ‘the cloud’. Even though this geography is out of
sight and relatively uninteresting to look at (especially compared to
the bits and bytes of email, social media posts, and cat videos contained within the digital infrastructure), it is a tangible antithesis of cloud-based metaphors.
Buried fiber-optic cable markers alongside CSX railroad tracks in central Philadelphia. February 2010. |
The
data centers that house the websites and other ‘cloud’ information we
access daily are layered in the urban landscape even though the
digitized utility of these spaces is not readily apparent. There is no
symbology to data centers: no wi-fi symbol
equivalent, for instance, to indicate what is housed within. While many
of the data centers that encase ‘the cloud’, as the digitized,
information-holding core of the Internet, are in out of the way places, in the suburbs or way past the suburbs, there are also many data centers within cities (http://www.datacentermap.com/
is a great source for learning more about where data centers are
located). Some data centers are in re-used, industrial-era structures
that were built long before our contemporary, digital-era began. Urban
or not, data centers are often located where they are due to proximity
to railroads and the industrial city that relied on rail to move goods
around. The railroad track is itself not consequential to ‘the cloud’,
but the railroad track’s right of way is of consequence because that is where the fiber-optic cables are laid, cables that move ‘the cloud’ between a data center and the user.
Data
centers connect individual users but are typically separated from their
proximate neighborhood, embodying the juxtaposition between highly
designed, connective objects in the form of smartphones and other cloud
computing devices, and the quotidian landscapes we all inhabit. We have
shifted our information storage, retrieval, and processing needs into
digital devices, but the information still resides somewhere, and in
many cases, that somewhere is, today, a data center.
Top: 60 Hudon Street in Lower Manhattan (March 2010) and Bottom: One Wilshire in downtown Los Angeles (July 2014), two of the most important nodes in ‘the cloud’, at least in North America. |
The best-known data centers, that both also act as co-location points, are likely 60 Hudson Street in Lower Manhattan and One Wilshire
in downtown Los Angeles, the former originally the global headquarters
of Western Union and the latter originally an office building, now both
are among the most important nodes in the global Internet. Most of the
Internet traffic between North American and Europe passes through this
building, as well as data going elsewhere.
Given New York City’s prominence for the global economy, there are a
number of data centers in and surrounding the city, but all the major
cities of the Northeast United States have these pieces of ‘the cloud’
nearby. Chances are good an email or a packet of digital information
heading to Europe passes through this building.
AT&T buried fiber optic cables alongside the Amtrak Northeast Corridor train tracks in West Philadelphia. April 2011. |
If
you head south 100 miles from lower Manhattan into downtown
Philadelphia, on an Amtrak Northeast Corridor train for instance, you
will be running parallel to fiber optic cables buried in the gravel
alongside the tracks. Once in Philadelphia you will find a number of
urban data centers, including the Terminal Commerce Building.
Housing ‘the cloud’
The Terminal Commerce Building on the left, one of the largest data centers in the Northeast United States. The former offices of the Philadelphia Inquirer on the right, and City Hall in the center distance. Note the collection of backup power generators and cooling equipment poking up above the roof-line. A local real estate developer has proposed turning the currently-vacant Inquirer Building into a hotel, effectively moving the downtown’s commercial and foot-traffic many blocks north, and perhaps bringing some jobs back into the neighborhood. July 2014. |
The
eleven story, 1.3 million square foot Terminal Commerce Building sits
just north of Philadelphia’s City Hall, across from the former offices
of the Philadelphia Inquirer and the Philadelphia public school
district’s main offices at 410 North Broad Street. This Art Deco building
takes up an entire city block; it was completed in 1930 and originally
contained wholesale furniture showrooms and warehousing for furniture.
It has a railroad spur going into the basement to load and unload goods;
this is where the fiber optic cables run into the data center, this
otherwise unused railroad right of way cutting through downtown is what
makes the building useful as a data center. According to a report
submitted to place the building into the National Register of Historic
Places, a status granted in 1996, the Terminal Commerce Building was
“large enough to command its own post office, and later its own zip
code, [and] by 1948 the building housed 175 companies employing some
5,000 people”. By the early 1970s this was the largest single office
building in the city. Hidden City Philadelphia has a very detailed recent article about the building’s history here.
Since 1978 Sungard has occupied
part of the building, offering offsite data storage and recovery in
case of disaster (this information also comes from the above-mentioned report). Sungard is one of the larger global data storage and recovery firms, listed on the Fortune 500 and headquartered in suburban Philadelphia (Sungard was recently bought by FIS Global, a “financial services” company). While Sungard has remained in the building and today occupies 50% of the floorspace,
the rest of the structure has slowly filled in with other data storage
companies. By the late 1990s became a co-location point center where
multiple carriers house their respective data centers in one building.
Today there are approximately eighty networks in the building
(to be clear, I’m not sure what constitutes a network in this citation
taken from an article about the building’s new owner), which also acts
as an interchange between data storage providers and telecommunications
companies. Parts of ‘the cloud’ are both stored in this building
directly, replacing couches and tables with servers and cables, moving
bits of light instead of chairs and bed frames.
Whereas the building as a furniture showroom opened to the street with window displays and pedestrian traffic in and out, today the building presents frosted windows, closed metal doors, and a guarded entrance onto the main north-south thoroughfare through Philadelphia. The typical people seen outside are white male network engineers and technicians that maintain the computers, on a smoking break or walking to and from their cars. Data moves in and out, but a user of that data could not walk in off the street to ‘see’ their data without arranging to do so beforehand.
The
social and economic utility of ‘the cloud’, of data centers holding key
elements of the information-knowledge economy and our networked society
is tied into processes of de-industrialization and economic
restructuring. By virtue of the repurposing of industrial-era buildings,
‘the cloud’ as a particularly urban matter stretches from the multitude
of users of data whether in the Philadelphia region or literally
anywhere else around the world. We do not have to know which data center
our own particular data is held within to be connected to buildings
like the Terminal Commerce Building. That is the nature of ’the cloud’:
it is everywhere and nowhere, but also in specific places like this.
Additionally,
this data center and co-location node represents the manifestation of
the new, information and innovation economy, which is largely
inseparable from digital forms of connection to data and to dispersed
social networks. As the industrial-era usefulness of inner city
Philadelphia was to centralize, in Terminal Commerce Building, the
storage and selling of physical goods, in the information economy the
location still matters but for different reasons, reasons that do not
have the same sort of impact on the neighborhood. The shift to a data
center mirrors the shift in employment opportunities out of North
Philadelphia, away from industrial warehouses and manufacturing in what
was once called The Workshop of the World, into a revitalized
downtown business including successful medicine, education, and tourism
fields, but these workers today have no need to physically come to the
neighborhood surrounding the data center. Their laptops and smartphones
may access data within the building, but that is the extent of it.
The back side of the Terminal Commerce Building, taken from the railroad spur’s right of way that the carry the fiber-optic cables into the building. The rail spur connects into the Reading Viaduct, an abandoned elevated railway that supporters are working to turn into a park similar to the High Line in Manhattan. April 2015. |
Conclusion
The
disposition of data to transform social exchange is predicated on
pervasive connection to global telecommunication networks, where the
‘high design’ of digital, mobile technologies like an Apple iPhone
function through mundane and distributed infrastructural landscapes.
These in-between, typically out of sight spaces transfer information
across distance while also affecting proximate space in consequential
ways. ‘The cloud’ may be everywhere a cellular or wi-fi signal reaches,
but it also inhabits real, particular places like the Terminal Commerce
Building. While data is largely immaterial except in the action it
enables, the storage, maintenance, and transmission of data requires
many layers of interfacing systems that are always, inherently embedded
in particular places. Understanding the impact of ‘the cloud’ on cities
necessitates conceptualizing the relationship between digital
infrastructures and the urban fabric. Furthermore, data storage,
maintenance, and transmission are themselves part of wider, longer-term
patterns of economic restructuring and post-industrial, inner-city urban
transformation. Data centers’ re-use of industrial-era structures ties
the twenty-first century utility of ‘the cloud’ into nineteenth and
twentieth century economic processes; buildings designed to hold heavy
equipment or warehouse physical goods are useful for siting the heavy
computer servers that hold ‘the cloud’, and inner city locations
designed around proximity to a population of workers for manufacturing
jobs are, today, often located close to central business districts and
the needs of information-heavy, twenty-first century enterprise.
‘The
cloud’s’ functionality, and the personal, mobile devices through which
this data is consumed are inseparable from this infrastructural
back-end. Without constant connectivity to data centers, ‘the cloud’ is
nothing. While the location of data centers does not inherently matter,
only the connection, data still embodies particular spaces, forming an
infrastructural geography layered within and between cities, co-produced
through or alongside other infrastructures such as
transportation — especially the railroad — even within city streets
where that railroad has been absent for decades.