April 3, 2040 — 4:03 p.m.
Another weather disaster was unfolding across the HoloScreen on the eastern wall.
Maps, water-level gauges, and animated current models hovered over translucent images of a flooded coastal city. A reporter stood knee-deep in brown water, explaining why the protective infrastructure had not, strictly speaking, failed this time, but had merely been engineered for a climate that no longer existed.
Nana had turned the volume down far enough that the catastrophe did not entirely dominate the room.
It could not be shut out completely.
Behind the reporter, pieces of furniture drifted through what had once been a street, while along the lower edge of the display the outside temperature in Glinde appeared:
26.1 degrees Celsius.
On the third of April.
Warm air entered the living room through the open terrace door. It smelled of dry wood, waking soil, and a spring behaving as though it had simply decided to skip summer’s formal introduction and become summer itself.
The iCom abo…
