OH, THE IDEAS, THEY FELL DOWN LIKE RAIN
by Matthew Sanborn Smith
Throughout the day, the heads of the fortunates caught outdoors were pelted with explosive epiphanies and intuitive leaps. Jorge created a gene-therapy rider for fertility drugs so that women who rattled eight babies from their frightened egg-sacs would have as many breasts to feed the lot.
Someone figured out how to fix the stoplight on Poplar street and we all thanked him for that. Damned thing was always blinking.
Cornelius asked himself why, and painted the sky by bending the atmosphere until he'd achieved a pleasant peach. "No, not pink. It's peach."
Sally's children made gravity bubbles that lifted entire buffalo from their grazing grounds and carried them off into strange and distant lands. When the bubbles popped, the buffalo fell somewhat harder than the ideas.
One especially virulent meme forced strangers everywhere to join hands and play a game of crack the whip the stretched across continents, tore limbs from bodies, and sent people into orbit.
It occurred to someone else to get out of her car and walk once she realized the traffic on Poplar street would never move again.
When it was all over and the lawns had dried, Marnie asked Maxie, "What the hell happened today?"
Maxie rubbed her pretty little head where the buffalo had hit and wept. "I have no idea!"