No doubt the people who worked for years to create the iPhone believe they've created a beautifully integrated all-in-one gadget. It's elegant. It's stylish. But it's a gadget whose real purpose -- and future -- depends on its users.

Maybe users will just decide it's the world's best (and most expensive) iPod. Maybe they'll see it mainly as the perfect pocket-size Web-browsing device. Maybe Apple's cachet is so strong that some people really will want it as a $500 cell phone.

Most likely, early iPhone buyers will end up mixing and matching those functions. They'll figure out what's useful and what's not. They'll discover uses that never occurred to the iPhone's designers.

And a year from now, those early adopters will have made clear to Apple what should come next -- whether that means a big-screen iPod that's just an iPod, an even-more-beefed-up Web/phone combo, or just a big hole in Apple's product line where the iPhone used to be.

For Apple, the iPhone's identity crisis is a gamble -- and an opportunity to let users tell the company what the product is good for. Listening to those users isn't just a good idea. It's crucial. They'll tell Apple how to be successful.