From the day
Perspective: The Future Historian · Sound
The rhythmic clatter of horse-drawn carriages is losing ground to the sharp, mechanical backfire of the emerging motor age, a sound that signals a bully transformation of our urban landscape. From a nearby shop window, the tinny, infectious melody of *In My Merry Oldsmobile* by Gus Edwards drifts over the sidewalk, drowning out the hushed, urgent whispers of men in wool coats discussing Governor Higgins’s secret arrival. I hear the future in this cacophony: the jingling coins for five-cent loaves and the newfound silence of a laboratory’s novocain, all merging into the relentless hum of a century finally finding its stride. It is a symphony of progress, punctuated by the sharp crack of a newsboy shouting headlines that the old guard can no longer suppress.