Time Traveling Industry Association of America

TTIAA.txt

Time Traveling Industry Association of America

Life was good for a men who slipped in time all way back to late Roman empire. Money I gained by selling a scheme of a distiller I doubled on a cotton swabs and now I was plotting to introduce my naive romans to an idea of double-entry accounting and to a concept of zero. Until I suddenly heard a knocking at my door.

- Gai Julius also knows as Nicolas Kovalsky? - inquired a centurion at doorway. Golden gilding on his cuirass of stainless steel was chipped here and there and a plume of his helm definitely had a close relatives in a mop department of Superstore.

- You a time traveler, - I said cheerlessly,  - Are you here to save me?

- I am a lawyer of Time Traveling Industry Association of America.

The enthusiasm in his voice matched mine.

- I’m here about a numerous copyright infringement of intellectual property of the Association. Plus an active attempt to violate even more.

- Hey, - I said, - You can’t accuse me with something that not happened yet. First, you have no proof and second, how about presumption of innocence?

- We have all the proof we need, - he said, - We, after all, own the time line. You’ll violate one of our copyrights sooner or later, so we decided to consider it a pre-crime.

- Aren’t you yourself violating F. Dick’s copyright in that case?

He frowned.

- Let’s go Gai Julius Kovalsky, time is money. In case of a  law department of the Association - quite literally.

That gave me an idea.

- Listen, my dear centurion of Industry Association, how about that. I’ll pay you right here and right now and you’ll drop all the charges. Save both of us… well.. if not the money but at least time.

- You are smart guy, - said centurion and a receipt book  materialized in his hands with deftness one can achieve only by a constant practice.

- That’ll be five thousand, I write you a receipt. You know, I like guys like you. Other people start whining -- ‘information should be free’, ‘you can’t stop the progress’… Progress my arse, we have a working business model here. Don’t forget to write the date, pal, it’s Ides of March now. I don’t want to go all way back here, I have three more cases to take care of today.

- A lot of work?

- You can’t imagine. A single copyright on gunpowder bringing us in a month more than we’ve been making on a dinosaur safari in a whole year. Everyone and his dog feel obliged to invent gunpowder. Not like they know the right proportions or the process flow, but who cares? Gee, even today I have a guy in London of 1605 with funny powder business.

- Hey, hasn’t gunpowder been already invented by then?

- Ignoramuses, I’m telling you. Though not all the cases that straight I have to admit. I have this guy in Ireland, Patrick is his hame, he managed to dispatch all the snakes in there for oil. Complex hearing.

- Will you manage to pinch him?

He smiled a wide smile which made him look like a militarized shark.

- Be sure, pal, - he said, - I’ll make his day.

It felt rather disturbing so I was glad when he took the check, left the receipt on a table and left.
I looked at a parchment I was using to outline my arithmetic shtick, then took it and throw in a fire. Hell with the romans and their mathematical problems, they’ll survive without zero. Future suddenly started to look much less defined.