Monday, January 14, 2013

Technology outpaces law and custom

Moh's smart gun is here.

“Gaia, it’s hot,” he muttered.
“Thirty-one Celsius,” said the gun.
He liked hearing the gun. It gave him a wired feeling. Only a screensight read-out, but he heard it with his eyes like Sign.
“What’ll it be tonight? Cranks or creeps?”
“Beginning search.”
“Stop.” He didn’t want it racking its memory for an educated guess; he wanted it looking.

Scotty don't need to beam me up to the future, it's here.

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