Years ago – decades ago, in fact – I was a computer science grad student, and I found myself at a conference in a standing-room-only session of what was then the equivalent of techno-rock stars.

This was before the likes of Jobs and Wozniak, Gates and Allen, Sergei Brin and Larry Page, and so these people were known only to a small community. The panel discussion was rousing, and the audience loudly showed their appreciation.

When the session ended, I exited the room with the crush of people and found myself behind two gentlemen, who might be described as elder statesmen in the field of Computer Science. One turned to the other and said, “Wasn’t that Joe’s work from twenty years ago? Don’t we know this already?” They both laughed, and agreed that the same old things just “keep getting re-invented by every generation.”

At the time, Computer Science had just emerged as an identifiable field in and of itself, so the idea of “generations” and “twenty years ago” came as a bit of shock. That there was any value to understanding what came before was a radical concept – as far as most of us were concerned, there was no “before,” and we were moving ahead at lightning speed on exciting new terrain. And being quite young, I wouldn’t presume to ask these gentlemen directly.

It was just a few years ago that I began to understand what Isaac Newton meant when he wrote “If I have seen a little further it is by standing on the shoulders of Giants.” Modest fellow, actually. I could live a lifetime on the same shoulders he was talking about and never come close to inventing Calculus.

But still, the truths of science, including math, are not unlike the oral histories and languages of native peoples: The great body of knowledge has to be handed down from one person to the next, from one scientific father to another scientific son, from each generation forward.

Otherwise, the story is lost.

So how does information as complex as science and math, get handed down? Certainly, through refereed journals, text books and meticulous lab notes. But perhaps most importantly … we talk to each other. There are teachers who teach and everyday scientists who work elbow to elbow with students. They tell their stories and their perspectives, and pass along knowledge – somewhat at random.

In these days of googlability, it’s hard to remember there is much to be known that can’t be written down or recorded, and thereby searchable by some technical means. Just as the reality of a world cup soccer match is only partially told through a video of the game.

I was reminded of that reading a recent issue of a technical publication, which continues to be read by the same crowd who jammed into that panel session all those years ago. One article referred to a programming technique developed in recent years by three people, one of whom I realized was the even younger nerd I shared an office with all those years ago. He had a hard time getting through school, but he lived and breathed creativity. (If you’ve ever used anything “wiki,” you’ve been touched by his work.) I remember he broke me of my early over-analyzed forays into photography, saying, “Just take more pictures. You can’t hit ‘em all out of the park. Some will turn out to be real winners.” It was advice I’ve applied to many things – scientific and otherwise. And it was really good advice at that.

Yes, technology is absolutely essential to raising the height of the shoulders of giants, but humans influencing humans – that’s the main event.

I'm Moira Gunn. This is Five Minutes.