Imagine you’ve just gotten out of prison for assault with a deadly weapon. Then someone gives you a shiny new baseball bat — a pretty nice one, titanium, and technologically advanced. The latest thing in bats is something called P2P. Even though you’re a convict, with a past history of violence, what you’ll actually do with this bat is still a matter of some debate. Who knows? You could have an innocent get-together at a local batting cage and have a home-run-hitting contest with friends. You know, test the limits of your new tool. Or you might, well, cause some trouble.
— LA Weekly: Grokster v. a Baseball Bat
“I came back for my own purposes,” said the Time Traveler, looking around my booklined study. “I chose you to talk to because it was . . . convenient. And I don’t want you to do a goddamned thing. There’s nothing you can do. But relax . . . we’re not going to be talking about personal things. Such as, say, the year, day, and hour of your death. I don’t even know that sort of trivial information, although I could look it up quickly enough. You can release that white-knuckled grip you have on the edge of your desk.” I tried to relax. “What do you want to talk about?” I said. “The Century War,” said the Time Traveler. I blinked and tried to remember some history. “You mean the Hundred Year War? Fifteenth Century? Fourteenth? Sometime around there. Between . . . France and England? Henry V? Kenneth Branagh? Or was it . . .” “I mean the Century War with Islam,” interrupted the Time Traveler. “Your future. Everyone’s.” He was no longer smiling. Without asking, or offering to pour me any, he ...
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