By Kyra-lin Hom

Once upon a time there was an isolated village high in the mountains and surrounded by steep canyons on all sides. Sure, their existence might have seemed lonely to us outsiders, but the villagers didn't know any better. They had everything they could need and, though their existence was a simple one, they were content with their seclusion.

Then one day, a mysterious benefactor appeared on the other side of the canyon and built a small rope bridge. The canyon was very wide and building the bridge was very difficult, but eventually the finished bridge stretched all the way from one side of the canyon to the other. It was thin and a little shaky and could only support one person at a time, but a bridge it was. Word spread quickly and soon villagers were lining up for hours just to explore the strange wilderness on the other side. For a small fee, of course.

Other outsiders soon began to notice this isolated village and realized it for the untapped resource that it was. See, these villagers were so new to the outside world that anything and everything was fascinating. If all you'd eaten your entire life was oatmeal, wouldn't you spend a week's wages on a juicy hamburger or a plate of roasted garlic veggies?

Shortly after, shops and food stands began to pop up on the far side of the canyon. Suddenly this empty wilderness wasn't quite so empty anymore. The demand to cross to the bridge increased exponentially.

Seeing this, the bridge maker rose to the demand and supplied a wider, sturdier bridge – beginning to charge the shop owners a small fee as well to fund the endeavor. Villagers surged across, dropping their coins into the bridge maker's bowl as they went. Now the bridge maker was making money on both ends and was very pleased.

As you can imagine, this trend continued: more villagers crossed the bridge, more outsiders set up shops, more bridges were built. It didn't take long before lots of other bridge makers joined the fray as well. The original bridge maker saw profits dwindling and decided this wouldn't do at all. So the original bridge maker partnered with the three other biggest and best bridge makers and the four of them joined forces.

They divided the canyon between them, forced out all other bridge makers, and then standardized their toll fee with the better, wider, stronger bridges costing more to cross. That just made sense after all. For a while, things were good.

Then one day, the bridge makers' alliance – calling themselves BSP's for Bridge Service Providers – had an epiphany. They approached the shop owners with a proposal for a fancy new bridge. It would have filigreed railings, not just one walkway level but two, and cobblestones so smooth not even rainwater would find the cracks. The catch was, shops had to pay extra for their customers to use the bridge. And only customers who intended to visit the shops paying extra could use the bridge at all.

Now, no one but the BSP's were happy about the arrangement. Not the shops that could pay the fee because no one wants to pay more money when they don't have to. Not the smaller, newer shops that couldn't pay the fee because they knew they'd lose traffic and probably go out of business. And not the villagers who didn't like being corralled. Plus no one was really sure if this new bridge would actually be any better than the old ones.

They all liked how things had been. All but the BSP's. The status quo wasn't perfect, but it had at least created an equal opportunity environment. They all preferred bridge neutrality.

Now, months later, the community still sits at an impasse. Because of the alliance, the BSP's hold all of the power. And unless some larger organization with the authority and cojones to wield it steps up to the plate, the BSP's might get their way regardless of no one else wanting that to happen.

So, let's all hope the FCC finds its cojones. Preserve an open internet. Support net neutrality.