August 2026: There Will Come Soft Rains

           Inthelivingroomthevoice-clocksang,Tick-tock,seveno’clock,timetogetup,timetogetup,seveno’clock!asifitwereafraidthatnobodywould.Themorninghouselayempty.Theclocktickedon,repeatingandrepeatingitssoundsintotheemptiness.Seven-nine,breakfasttime,seven-nine!

           Inthekitchenthebreakfaststovegaveahissingsighandejectedfromitswarminterioreightpiecesofperfectlybrownedtoast,eighteggssunnysideup,sixteenslicesofbacon,twocoffees,andtwocoolglassesofmilk.

           "TodayisAugust4,2026,"saidasecondvoicefromthekitchenceiling,"inthecityofAllendale,California."Itrepeatedthedatethreetimesformemory’ssake."TodayisMr.Featherstone’sbirthday.TodayistheanniversaryofTilita’smarriage.Insuranceispayable,asarethewater,gas,andlightbills."

           Somewhereinthewalls,relaysclicked,memorytapesglidedunderelectriceyes.

           Eight-one,tick-tock,eight-oneo’clock,offtoschool,offtowork,run,run,eight-one!Butnodoorsslammed,nocarpetstookthesofttreadofrubberheels.Itwasrainingoutside.Theweatherboxonthefrontdoorsangquietly:"Rain,rain,goaway;rubbers,raincoatsfortoday…"Andtheraintappedontheemptyhouse,echoing.

           Outside,thegaragechimedandlifteditsdoortorevealthewaitingcar.Afteralongwaitthedoorswungdownagain.

           Ateight-thirtytheeggswereshriveledandthetoastwaslikestone.