The Day the Future Invaded
by Beth Powers
The future invaded on a Friday afternoon in the middle of winter. Without warning, buildings arose amid intersections and metallic pathways gleamed into existence above forests. Toys that had not yet been dreamed arrived in children's rooms while their parents frowned at unexpected appliances and furniture. Going about their business bundled against the cold, people nodded to newcomers wearing flatscreen jackets and hover shoes.
Within the hour, scientists clamored on televisions and newly materialized holoprojectors. "Ruptures in space time... quantum [gobbledygook]... not linear," they cried as the snow began to fall, "Pockets of [scientific jargon]... the future is bleeding through to the present...." But most people just pulled their coats closed against the cold, ignoring the holos and screens.