What Dreams May Come

Horatio Speaks

If it be now, ‘tis not to come; if it be not to come, it will be now . . . – Hamlet

He gazed past the gleaming stainless steel, through the floor-to-ceiling glass windows to the vibrant, pulsating city far below. Tiny cars crawled amidst flashing signs and strange buildings shaped like gherkins, ships and pyramids. It looked like an exciting time to be alive, and by a miracle, he was here to see it.

The door opened and a slender, balding man with glasses and an oddly intimidating deference glided in. He extended a hand briefly, smiled even more briefly, and sat down to peruse the file on the glass desk without speaking. After a few minutes he looked up.

“Mr Simmons. Welcome to London 2017. I am your liason officer, Dr Lenning. How are you settling in?”

“Well, I only arrived this morning, so I hardly know…

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