Dear American resident in the year 2051:
I don’t know how you’ve come upon this missive a quarter century after it was written. Maybe it’s still alive in text form on what we once called the “internet,” or perhaps it’s being read to you by an artificial-intelligence-powered simulacrum of me. (I just assume I won’t make it 25 more years once someone inevitably invents a drone that can deliver Chick-fil-A directly to my mouth.)






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