Future's Shard

Four kids found a humming metal door in an abandoned rail yard and pulled the lever.

The world ripped open like silk tearing. They stumbled into blinding light—towering glass buildings

that bent like frozen waves, streets that moved on their own, and silent vehicles

gliding through the air. A hovering drone scanned them and flashed a date in

blue light: 2149. They'd traveled over a century forward. The city was breathtaking but haunted—waterfalls

vanishing into mist, artificial suns floating between towers, and behind energy

fields, old ruins labeled Pre-Climate Collapse Relics. The future wasn't

perfect. It was scarred but standing. Then the door reappeared, flickering like