The October wind rattled the windows of the Gull Lake Diner, sending a shiver through the regulars huddled around their usual table. Inside, the smell of bacon and coffee wrapped around them like a blanket, and the talk was as lively as ever. Edna, sharp-eyed and sharper-tongued, peered over her glasses at the notice board. “Well, I saw that business about the Southwest Regional Emergency Measures Organization (SWREMO) rolling out their new emergency alerts,” she declared, s

The cinnamon buns were still warm, and the coffee had just started to cool. Edna sat at her usual spot, one eyebrow raised, the latest Gull Lake 2035 editorial open on her phone. Earl was already halfway through his second bun, and Mabel had brought her own mug from home—enamel, chipped, and loyal. “I read Part Two,” Edna said, not looking up. “The one about what we’ve actually built.” Earl puffed out his chest. “You mean the sewer lines and the lagoon? Smells like progres

The diner was humming, mugs clinking as the gang settled in. Anthony Huckabay’s medal was the first topic. Rita leaned in: “Anthony...