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The sweat stood out cold on Ford Prefect's brow, and slid round the electrodes strapped to his temples. The Vogons wanted to be very much on top of the next-generation web. And they had the technology to show it - ajaxian social media delivering crowdsourcing network effects via software-as-a-service - all designed to heighten the experience of the sites and make sure that not a single nuance of the next-generation web's poetry was lost. Arthur Dent sat and quivered. He had no idea what he was in for, but he knew that he hadn't liked anything that had happened so far and didn't think things were likely to change. The Vogon began to read - a fetid little passage of his own devising. "Oh twitter xanga..." he began. Spasms wracked Ford's body - this was worse than ever he'd been prepared for. "... thy topix are to me--As orkut skype on a lulu bee." "Aaaaaaarggggghhhhhh!" went Ford Prefect, wrenching his head back as lumps of pain thumped through it. He could dimly see beside him Arthur lolling and
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