Maya Torres, the monorail driver, sips her coffee and adjusts her cap, feeling the fine grit of sand underfoot. The train’s control room is sparse but gleaming, with a battered radio perched beside the dashboard. As she checks her route, the speakers hum to life, but instead of static, a crisp, unfamiliar voice rings out: "This is Future Desert News. In three stops, a sandstorm will halt all traffic at Oasis Junction."
Maya frowns, replaying the broadcast in her mind. Nothing in her schedule mentions a sandstorm, and the sky ahead is clear. She glances at the passengers through her rear-view monitor—miners, traders, and a mother with a sleeping child—all blissfully unaware of what might lie ahead.
Maya leans toward the radio, hesitant, as another voice breaks through: "Breaking update: In two stops, Oasis Junction will be closed due to severe weather." She scribbles a note and wonders if she should warn the conductor or the passengers, but the surreal nature of the broadcasts keeps her silent for now.
A third news flash crackles over the radio: "Attention: Oasis Junction is now under emergency lockdown. All transit suspended. Please seek shelter." Maya feels a chill despite the heat. She slows the train, her fingers trembling on the controls, and finally announces over the intercom, "Ladies and gentlemen, a severe sandstorm is approaching Oasis Junction. Please prepare to disembark at the next station."
Passengers gather their belongings, hurried and anxious. Maya stands at the door, helping an elderly man steady himself. The storm bears down, howling like a living thing, and the radio finally falls silent. In the chaos, someone asks, "How did you know this would happen?" Maya just shakes her head, unsure of what truth she could possibly give.
Maya sits beside her radio, straining to hear any more whispers from the future. She wonders if, tomorrow, she will hear news of their survival—or new warnings meant only for her. As the wind howls beyond the walls, she resolves to listen more carefully than ever before.
