From the day
Perspective: The Future Historian · Tactile
The bally heat of August clings to my wool flannel suit, making the starch in my collar feel like a dull blade against my neck. I nervously thumb the smooth, wooden tokens of my *Land's Lord* game, trying to drown out the chatter of bomb plots and Wall Street panic with the mechanical whirl of the **jukebox** in the corner. I can't help but wonder if the crude **silencers** mentioned in the journals could ever truly quiet this growing unrest, or if we are simply numbing the pain with a fresh dose of **novocain**. My hands tremble slightly as I realize that the fragile paper of these ledgers is all that remains of an era about to be irrevocably reshaped by fire and physics.