From the day
Perspective: The Future Historian · Tactile
I brush the grit from my heavy wool waistcoat, feeling the coarse weave against my thumb as I watch a hydroplane skip across the harbor like a skipped stone. This mechanized age is hardening into a structure of cold steel and monopolies, yet the air vibrates with the promise of more; the first sacks of official air mail have finally taken flight, soaring over a world still hitched to the horse and buggy. I settle into the stiff leather seat of a Cadillac, marveling at the smooth click of the electric starter that renders the old hand-crank obsolete. If this metal cage ever makes it back to Blighty, I wonder if we’ll still recognize the touch of the sun on our skin, or if we will have sold our tactile world for the hum of the machine.