“Give me six lines written by the most honorable of men, and I will find an excuse in them to hang him.” –Cardinal Richelieu
“We don’t know enough about you.” –Google CEO Eric Schmidt
Greg landed at San Francisco International Airport at 8 p.m., but by the time he’d made it to the front of the customs line, it was after midnight. He’d emerged from first class, brown as a nut, unshaven, and loose-limbed after a month on the beach in Cabo (scuba diving three days a week, seducing French college girls the rest of the time). When he’d left the city a month before, he’d been a stoop-shouldered, potbellied wreck. Now he was a bronze god, drawing admiring glances from the stews at the front of the cabin.
Four hours later in the customs line, he’d slid from god back to man. His slight buzz had worn off, sweat ran down the crack of his ass, and his shoulders and neck were so tense his upper back felt like a tennis racket. The batteries on his iPod had long since died, leaving him with nothing to do except eavesdrop on the middle-age couple ahead of him.
“The marvels of modern technology,” said the woman, shrugging at a nearby sign: Immigration–Powered by Google.
“I thought that didn’t start until next month?” The man was alternately wearing and holding a large sombrero.
Googling at the border. Christ. Greg had vested out of Google six months before, cashing in his options and “taking some me time"–which turned out to be less rewarding than he’d expected. What he mostly did over the five months that followed was fix his friends’ PCs, watch daytime TV, and gain 10 pounds, which he blamed on being at home instead of in the Googleplex, with its well-appointed 24-hour gym.
He should have seen it coming, of course. The U.S. government had lavished $15 billion on a program to fingerprint and photograph visitors at the border, and hadn’t caught a single terrorist. Clearly, the public sector was not equipped to Do Search Right.
The DHS officer had bags under his eyes and squinted at his screen, prodding at his keyboard with sausage fingers. No wonder it was taking four hours to get out of the god damned airport.
Fifty years ago, the soviet union launched into space a 58.5 centimeters and 83 kilos shiny aluminum sphere equipped with 4 long antennas and 2 radio transceivers.
Sputnik-1 (Спутник-1 / Satellite-1), the first artificial satellite, had triggered what would be called later, "the US vs. USSR Space Race". It orbited 1440 times at 250 kms above Earth surface during 3 months transmitting radio signals on 20 & 40 MHz.
This single event launched new political, military, technological, and scientific developments. The Space Era was born.
AT&T threaten to disconnect its customers (Def. Customer:someone who pays for goods or services) who may criticized its services on the Internet (blog, others sites, etc..). AT&T customers must accept TOS (Terms of Service) where you can find the following statement on the section "Term & Termination".
AT&T also reserves the rights to update or change from time to time the terms of the agreement and apparently without notice. It is the customer's responsibility to regularly check, on their website, to check if terms have changed and if he/she still agrees with them as they become effective immediately after being posted on AT&T website.
This Agreement may be updated or changed from time to time. The current Agreement shall be posted at: www.att.net/legal/tos (“Website”). This site will be updated as changes are made. You agree to visit the Website periodically to be aware of and review any such revisions. All changes shall become effective upon posting of the revised Agreement on the Website. Your continued use of the Service following such notice constitutes your acceptance of those changes. If you do not agree to the revisions, you must terminate your Service immediately.
So, Dear and Cherished AT&T customer, if you really expect to have "The World. Delivered" by AT&T, you rather have to be nice with them. Otherwise……
Cory Doctorow wrote this Creative Commons-licensed fiction story for Radar Online magazine.
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