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. Before the days of electronic filing these records would have been a
tonne and a half of paper in half a tonne of steel, all occupying several cubic
meters. Now they massed only a few grams and occupied space no larger than my
middle finger-twenty million words of file storage.
The wafers were totally encased in that "bone" and thereby safe from theft,
loss, and damage. Who steals another man's prosthesis? How can a cripple forget
his artificial foot? He may take it off at night but it is the first thing he
reaches for in getting out of bed.
Even a holdup man pays no attention to a prosthesis. In my case most people
never know that I am wearing one. Just once have I been separated from it: An
associate (not a friend) took mine away from me in locking me up overnight-we
had had a difference of opinion over a business matter. But I managed to escape,
hopping on one foot. Then I parted his hair with his fireplace poker and took my
other foot, some papers, and my departure. The writing business, basically
sedentary, does have its brisk moments.
The time on the terminal read 1254 and we were almost through. I had only a
handful of books-bound books, with words printed on paper-as I did my research,
such as it was, through the terminal. These few Gwen stuffed into the bundle she
had made from my robe. "What else?" she demanded.
"I think that's all
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