Computing has become a form of life, like using toasters or TVs, making phone calls, driving cars, it is for so many of us a practical necessity, part of the technological background that enables our intellectual and professional activity. Soon, scholars for whom computing is as necessary-and as interesting-as driving a car will be the norm, and those unacquainted with computing will be as those for whom the automobile remains a mystery. It is already clear that computing will greatly change those literary studies that depend on information storage and retrieval. Computing will bring within the powers of any adept undergraduate a body of information-and an appearance of learning-that would make Erasmus look down from high heaven and weep for envy.1