A slap-up lunch was called for and the Wabbit said he would host it. Skratch was late as usual, but unapologetic. Wabsworth and Lapinette arrived first or so they thought. The Wabbit had concealed himself by the serving area and he called out, "Welcome everyone." Lapinette knew he was there all along. "I thought you weren't coming Wabbit," she smiled. It was a hot day, and the sun bleached the sidewalk. The Wabbit laughed. "Me? Miss the Adventure Caffè? Not likely ... Here's Skratch!" Skratch arrived late to make an entrance. "Ask me the question," he cried. "OK, Skratch my turn!" said Wabsworth, "What was that for a sort of adventure?" Skratch pretended to ponder. "It was about imagining the future." Lapinette pounced. "A future that's already here!" The Wabbit rapped his paw on a chair. "I don't think that matters. It's a design fiction. We created a narrative imaginary world. A map of sorts." Lapinette smiled. "A disarticulated form. It questions the narratological shape between fiction and reality." "If indeed we can speak of a reality," meaowed Skratch, "that Umberto Eco would have questioned in specularity." Wabsworth snorted. "Yet possible worlds have been around since Aristotle." Skratch grunted. "Maybe but possible worlds are stipulated, we don't need binoculars." The Wabbit's head was beginning to spin. "Does that stipulation get us a drink any quicker?" Skratch laughed. "You know Wabbit, it just might."
[I'm indebted to Mirko Gentile in 'Where are the flying cars? Exploring the role of SF in the construction of experiential futures.' Lexia Journal of Semiotics 45-46]
