India, in the future, is like it’s always been. The girl sat quietly in her stucco room, waiting out the heat, her shift sticking to her everywhere it touched. She frowned, looking out the window. The curtains were billowing in the breeze that should be nonexistent; not today, not in season. Yet the curtains, fire bright and dancing to defy her, shook in the late afternoon sunset. She stood, but had to cover her eyes in the bright, angled light. There was a whistling noise, followed by a crack. A cloud rose up to swallow the entire city. She screamed.