its 2067. im a prominent judge. after sentencing a pedophile to death, i return to my office. my robot assistant brings me my (pre-screened) mail. i thank them. i open the first e-message and read “you know what’s nasty? that you want someone dead because they’re into something you don’t like #dontkinkshame” signed by anonymous. i pull out my digital scimitar and stab it into the paper; it travels through the internet and pierces the heart of the sender, killing them instantly. i finish opening my mail. my robot assistant cleans my scimitar. i have a ham and cheese sandwich for lunch.