Category: The Future

The Future Has Fiction: “Entering Heaven Alive” by Elijah Sparkman

I was telling my students about the drought that was coming. The floods. Climate change and refugees. Storms. Famines. The droughts and the deaths. We were at Northern Michigan University. It was a Good Books Class. We were reading Octavia Butler and my students were from the suburbs of Minneapolis, the rural farmlands of Wisconsin,…
The Future Has Poetry: “How I Tell You I Love You When All Hope Is Lost” by Jeneva Stone

Displaced air arrives by force as the metro rushes the station. Your hand pressed to the small of my back and dim lights up my spine brighten north. Greens tied with a pink ribbon. Narrative hallway with endless doors without a knob or dial. Breath visible and there! grace notes ensue. greens tied with a…
Hybrid Piece from the Future: “Genetic Engineering Demonstration Gone Wrong” by Bethany Jarmul

No one believed umbrellas could be grown in fields, could open their faces to the firmament like foxgloves. But I raised the curtain and revealed—to gasps of delight—a wonderful waterproof leaf-canopy with sturdy vine-shaft and real root-handle. What luck! I held it over a child’s head just as the rain roused. The crowd cheered, applauded.…
“There Is News Along the Ohio River”: Four Hybrid Pieces from the Future by Beth Gilstrap

XVII. There is news along the Ohio river: a young man has tied his loosening jeans up with twine and huddles into his denim jacket, a bird peeking out of a nest, but the fabric may as well be a brittle photograph wet and dried a hundred times before he taped it over the crack in…
Poetry from The Future: “Flood Warning” by Constance Clark

It is incredibly sad Rainwater sits on top of concave dirtdressed in a ripples of amusement Steel raindrops crushed cattails at pondsideand made them learn to swim last night Nowhere Sunna, or Khepri,Amaterasu, or Ra to blot the earth The glistening fern bow, soaked,spilling stardust guts We stare with no replystanding in purple rubber boots…
The Future Has Poetry: “The Year of the Buzzard” by Bray McDonald

It was the Year of the Buzzard, and everything was dying not to die.The last of the clinging leaves had fallen,and the trees were stark with despair.The sky could only croak at dawn.Its throat was clogged, and its eyes itchedwith the dusty and rusty particlesthat rained across the horizon, and bloated the suninto a stunted…
The Future Has Fiction: “The Park Bench That Appeared on the Beach, and All That Followed” by Luke McCarthy

A History in Seven Parts “Is this a sign?” someone asked. “Obviously” replied another. I. Gray and stone-like in appearance, the bench sat on the beach directly in front of the shoreline. When it was first discovered, onlookers attempted to move it, but no matter how hard they tried, the bench simply would not budge. It…
Two Poems from The Future: William Ross

Memo to Agency: CLEAR THE DECKS _ Run desire metrics on thisnew thanato-tourism and ping me back asap _ Scramble the screen scrapers & launch theweb crawlers now _ Get me intel on any brand lift on social _ If this has legs, we’ll pry open themouths of every dead one ferrying the Styx, reach …
The Future Has Poetry: “Begging to Be Marooned” by David Dodd Lee

The geese cross the highway—five silent film comedians—while snowfalls on their slate-gray backs. I’m in seclusion. My parents are ata remove, like dolls placed in doll-shaped holes, but when you openthe box there are only cardboard edges giving shape to nothing but air.The narrator signs a lease. He lives in a haze of monofilamentand insurance…