It was almost always like that when you screwed around with the Library. He’d hammered away in the Library on occasion, when absolutely sick of cable television, but the way he figured it, the big heap of electric text was way overrated. There were derelicts around who could fit all their material possessions in a paper bag, but they’d have a cheap laptop and some big chunk of the Library, and they’d crouch under a culvert with it, and peck around on it and fly around in it and read stuff and annotate it and hypertext it, and then they’d come up with some pathetic, shattered, crank, loony, paranoid theory as to what the hell had happened to them and their planet.... It almost beat drugs for turning smart people into human wreckage.