At the Mountains of Madness

One of the enduring literary innovations of H. P. Lovecraft is the idea of an infectious fiction. In his world, there are fictions- or texts, or words, or concepts- that, when read, have immediate and dire consequences in the physical world without a conscious intermediary. It's subtle, terrifying. It means that once you've read an H. P. Lovecraft story it's already too late. By the act of reading, you have tripped into motion a threat from beyond time.

There is a number (more) that I could show you that similarly, merely by the act of you viewing it, would cause you (or me) to be fined or even imprisoned. Those thirty-two characters only have to exist in front of your optic nerves to be illegal, according to the writ of the DMCA. I have chosen not to look at the number for this reason; I don't want to see anything that can get me arrested merely by virtue of being inside my brain. Theoretically the magic number allows you to do something involving movies and LINUX, but I don't care and I don't want to know. I don't even know what I just wrote. I have a very short memory.

As far as I'm concerned, these arcane digits are the Necronomicon, and our corrupt congresscritters are their Shoggoth. I know better than to goose Shoggoths in sensitive bikini areas. Let the movie industry have their magical textbooks and weird secrets.

EDIT: Or you can tempt fate and Death itself! And buy a T-SHIRT emblazoned with the fearful secret number! Or even the deadly secret as spelled in a fiendish hex color pallette! To what depths will these deviants sink?! Verily, I run out of exclamation points!