In 2000, I wrote a Linux device driver that “decrypted” the output of a certain device, and my company, which hosted open-source projects, agreed to host it.
The “encryption” was only a XOR, but that was enough for the maker of said device to sue my company under 17 U.S.C. § 1201 for hundreds of millions in damages.
The story got a lot of press back then because it highlighted how stupid the then-new DMCA was, and also because there was a David open-source enthusiasts vs. Goliath heartless corporation flavor to it.
Our lawyer decided to pick up the fight to generate free publicity for our fledgling company. For discovery, the maker of the device requested “a copy of any and all potentially infringing source code”. They weren’t specific and they didn’t specify the medium.
So we printed the entire Linux kernel source code including my driver in 5-pt font and sent them the boxes of printouts. Legally they had been served, so there was nothing they could do about it.
The year is 2025. A massive geomagnetic storm has fried all forms of technology, wiping out hard drives and solid-state drives alike, and scrambled all backup tapes. Coincidentally, a new plastic-eating bacterium has munched on all the compact discs without anyone noticing.
Humanity will rebuild…
The computer chip manufacturing pipeline has been restored, but there is no software to run them. In a dusty office previously owned by a lawyer from a long-defunct dotcom, a treasure trove is discovered. Five metal cabinets filled with paper: the printed Linux kernel source code, in 5-pt comic sans font. One brave soul will enter to transcribe. Mistakes are not an option. We all thank you for your sacrifice.
Final twist, nobody can compile it because it uses GCC extensions that no recovered compiler supports.