You’re up before dawn on a Saturday when the doorbell rings. You haven’t brewed your coffee so you wonder if you imagined the sound. Plonking the half-filled carafe in the sink, you go to the front door and cautiously swing it open. No one there. As you cast your eyes to the ground, you see a parcel addressed to you … from you.
You scoop it up and haul it inside, sensing something legitimate despite the extreme oddness of the situation. Carefully, you pry it open. Inside is a shoebox — sent from ten years in the future – and it’s filled with items you have sent yourself.
What’s in it?
My shoebox would contain the following:
- A copy of the winning numbers for a lottery being drawn today. This is probably one of the most predictable answers someone can give when asked what they'd send back from the future. I only want one set of winning numbers. I'm not greedy. I just want to be comfortable enough to give up work and write full time. Isn't that what most of us wish for?
- The first drafts of my next five novels. While I love to write, my favourite stage of writing is turning the first draft from an idea into a true story – turning that spew of words into a beginning, middle, and satisfying ending. If I could skip the whole getting 100,000 words onto paper stage, I would be happy.
- A flexiscreen computer. These are only at the early development stage at the moment, and likely to be very expensive when they go on sale. I'm a geek, and a Trekkie. Who remembers the tablet computers we first saw on Star Trek: The Next Generation? We thought they were impossible, and yet now they are reality. I want a flexiscreen computer before they go into mass production.
What items from the future would you send back?