In ancient times (as personal computers go), some software came with a postcard to be mailed in, agreeing to the brief EULA (End User License Agreement, as they are known today, though it was just called a license, or software license back then) contained thereon. One was required to sign the license postcard and send it in before using the new software. It also served to register the s/w with the particular publisher.
Because I actually read these things, I’d often line through the objectionable parts on the card, initial the line-outs and then sign and send in the card. In one case I recall, there was so much BS on it that I crossed out everything and put it into an envelope with my own EULA stating that I promised not to copy the software for anyone else and nothing more. I said that if that wasn’t good enough, let me know and I’d be happy to return the software for a refund. I sent it off to the address where the postcard would have gone. Never heard from them. I assume they found my terms acceptable.
Someone in the software community had the bright idea that using the software indicated acceptance of the license, whether or not one signed it. This became a common term on software licenses. When I first encountered this, I quipped to one of my friends that it wouldn’t be long before simply reading the license obligated one to abide by it. Sure enough…
It was C compiler. It came in a transparent, sealed envelope that was large enough so that the 8.5 x 11″ license and documentation pages did not have to be folded. I could read the first page of the license in its entirety without even opening the package. I did, but then, to proceed, I had to open the package before I could read the second page of what turned out to be a two-page software license. Sure enough, on page two of the license, it stated that opening the package indicated acceptance of the license conditions! Very clever, eh? I have a photo of it, before opening, somewhere — evidence that I was unable to read the license in its entirety without opening the package. I took the photo because I suspected chicanery.
My prediction had come true. Since reading the license in its entirety had required me to open the package, and, according to the license, opening the package had bound me to the terms of the license, reading the license had indeed bound me to it!
It was the immediate forebear of the “shrink wrap” license. (It was clear but not heat shrunken.)