As delta-T approaches infinity, P approaches 1.

Seventy years uptime, there are two toddler-age girls playing in a park in Tokyo while their mothers chat. One of the girls used to be--or carries the memories of, whichever suits you best--Donald Rumsfeld. The other used to be a teenage boy in Fallujah, whose life ended in blood and smoke when the bombs fell. They play together, occasionally giggling as if at a private joke that even their mothers don't understand. They hug, getting cracker crumbs in each others' hair.

Tucker

(And that's what I find comforting.)