The future for magnetic bubble memories
– and there still is one – was more modest now.
Glass knew it. And knew he had to un-know it.
“Not productive, Mr. Glass.”
Because for now, in green quiet, Martin was enjoying
the sharp minty spike of his cocktail.
All the while, a dragonfly – coloured in brilliant metal –
arced and spiralled around his recliner.
Pleasure’s bubble and hum.
Hugging the horizon, the observation deck reveals
a panorama over the crystal bay.
Against the slow sky, the Pacific…
… and a wavy, patterned ice-cream.