Old Town, Old Man, New Man, New Town
by Jeff Soesbe
Samuel stood at the edge of the Sacramento River. "Buildings," he mumbled, pointing down the river towards the scrub trees and grasslands south of the town.
"What, Samuel?" the woman at his side said. "What did you say?"
"There are ... will be ... buildings. Tall, majestic buildings, constructed of glass and steel, akin to the mirrors of a giant." He swept his hand back towards downtown and beyond. "They will stand side to side, the heart of future Sacramento, shining citadels of modern science and technology."
He gestured towards the river. "And at that point, Elizabeth, a bridge will cross the water. It will be an iron sibling to the Brooklyn Bridge in New York, but will gleam red and gold in the sunrise. On the far side of the bridge will be a construction resembling the pyramids recently discovered in the jungles of Central America. There will also be placed a massive stadium, akin to the Colisseum in Rome, wherein American baseball shall be played before tens of thousands of spectators."
Elizabeth raised her hand and shaded her eyes as she stared across the river. She chuckled and then laughed out loud, a lilting melody that drew his attention from his visions and back to her.
"Samuel," she said, taking hold of his arm. "I do enjoy your fantabulist tales of futuristic amazements as much, if not more, than any of your devoted readers, but you must not always tease me so. Pyramids and baseball stadiums, indeed," she said as she lowered her chin and looked at him through the long dark curls that framed her sky-blue eyes and strong chin.
Samuel recognized it as Elizabeth's coyest look, meant to beguile him. Today, however, the memory of the visions was too strong. He tipped his hat in apology. "Indeed, Elizabeth, I should not tease you in such a manner." He turned them both away from the river and towards the train station. "Let us return to the theatre and I shall purchase sweet lemonade for you, with ice, as my penance."