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November 2, 2007

Jim: Or...

The hologram displayed a girl wearing really big earmuffs. Luke stared as she endlessly looped, “You’re our only hope,” while bending over in a furtive half-bow.

“Obi-wan?” the farm boy asked the malfunctioning robot. “Could she mean Old Ben Kanobi?” Then he shook his head and grinned. “No way,” he decided. “That old coot doesn’t even wear pants.”

The robot spun its muffin top and issued an irritating stream of bleeps, bloops and whistles.

The farm boy tightened the robot’s restraining bolt. “Don’t worry,” he assured the robot. “I’ll fix your voice synthesizer right after I wipe that broken recording.”

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