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July 20, 2007

David: Last Thursday

“So, you come here often?”

I looked around the hotel bar. At every booth and table sat men and women from the far edges of the biometric bell curve; towering, miniscule, corpulent, or emaciated, fabulously attractive or hideously repulsive. Each one had a device with him: worn on the head or wrist, carried in a valise, or strapped to their backs. They popped and fizzed with electricity. The air smelled of ozone and the subtle rending of the fabric of the universe.

I replied, “Sure, I attend the time traveler’s convention every year. I’m meeting myself here in five minutes.”

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