A few weeks ago I was brushing my teeth and trying to remember who made "La Bamba" a big hit back in the late 1950s. I knew the singer had died in a plane crash with Buddy Holly; if I'd been downstairs I would have gone straight to Google. But even if I'd had a spoken-language Internet interface in the bathroom, my mouth was full of toothpaste. I realized that what I really want is an implant in my head, directly coupled into my brain, providing a wireless Internet connection.

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