A marketing professional is given a glimpse of what is to come.
| The Glimpse
New Orleans, 2030. It had to be early because as she cracked her eyelids open she saw that dark purple hue the early morning was so known for. Of course she could also say that this was the deep purple of the late night but that was not true. If it were late night the sound of drunken merriment would be heard. She heard birds and the quiet.
She lay still and slid her eyes over to her boyfriend. He lay like a mountain range, his massive back turned to her. She watched his body rise and fall with each slow breath then got up. The Glimpse had given her the courage to find someone like him, someone ferocious. The Glimpse. Ten years ago in Jackson square a tarot card reader laid a card down in front of her and showed her the future. She showed her today to be exact. This was the day that everything would change, this would be the day to see if she was the indeed the one who should have been trusted with the knowledge that there were more sentient beings on earth than just humans.
She showered then put on her business suit. She kissed her boyfriends cheek and pet the cat’s head and body for a moment before she head out into the early morning haze of the French Quarter. It was a delicate balance to pull off as far as marketing goes. They were smart, she thought, giving a marketer the knowledge. What if they had picked a soldier, a politician, or a CEO? No, they knew the power of communication, of positioning and shaping public opinion.
She was the first customer at Café Du Monde. She order two beignets and a coffee. A couple sat next to her. They were both Mixies. She couldn’t tell what they were mixed with, the man could’ve been a quarter black, but he could also be part Brazilian, no telling these days. She smirked at the irony of her observations. Here she scrutinizes the racial background of these people when it will all be irrelevant after today.
At noon she met her boyfriend for lunch at Galatoires. “Damn baby, why are you splashin’ out for lunch, special occasion?”
“Yeah Bronson, it is. But don’t worry, I won’t propose to you.” She proceeded to tell Bronson what she knew, she figured he deserved to get a mental head start on what was about to happen. He believed her. She could tell because he ordered up a bottle of Jack Daniels. He only drank heavily when in anticipation of conflict. She hoped he wouldn’t have to. This was the ultimate test, marketing vs. muscle.
They had lunch and she paid the bill, leaving Bronson at the table hunched over, getting into war mode.
At 3:32PM she walked onto the veranda of her office and stared at the sky. No, not at the sky, she stared at the air. The air sparkled, and then cracked. It was as if the air itself fell from the sky to reveal a different horizon. A warm wind filled with strange scents caressed her face. She stood on the veranda and watched the street become filled with people. It wasn’t carnival but the streets quickly looked as if it was. Strange beings mingled about, they were different sizes and colors. Some had huge jutting teeth and dark red eyes. Some strode through the other people regally, as if they had owned the city in the first place. And the humans, they stared, then talked, then bought the newcomers drinks. It worked, she had done it. Her boss walked onto the veranda and gave her a long look, then a smirk.
“You knew the whole time.”
She watched her bosses eyes glaze over momentarily and her happy face turned to concern.
“What is it?”
“That was a good friend in Los Angeles.”
“There’s a war.”
The women looked at the throngs of Orcs, Trolls, Elves, and Dwarves that mingled happily with the humans in the streets below, and shuddered at the thought of what was happening in L.A.