This story was published May 10, 1940. It was rereleased as part of the 100th anniversary edition of the Torch.
How will our Alma Mommy look in 50 years? How will dear Bexley High School survive the ravages of time? What type of youth will be roaming these hallowed halls?
Have you ever pondered on weighty questions such as these? Well—so have we. Ponder no more, for the oracles of the future have, for us, drawn aside the curtain of time.
First let us look at Bexley High School—it has no corners, for it is streamlined. The building is composed of glass brick and the interior walls are covered with surrealistic murals—this, no doubt, inspires the student to higher studistic (surrealistic words, too) ideals.
The desks are made of pastel plastics and chrome, with texts to match, of course.
Now let us look at the students. Unique, aren’t they? They don’t amble from room to room as we do, but as they come out of the class room they flick a concealed control on their rocket tubes and go whizzing down the halls. Occasionally there is a collision, but the air traffic is amazingly well regulated.
As befitting them, teachers do not speed as the students, but float gently along, pausing to speak to one another as they hover in mid-air! Astounding, what?
At regular intervals along the halls we see students crowded around fountains set in the walls. They bubble incessantly and on closer inspection, we discover that coca cola is the sparkling liquid so much in demand.
The lunch bell rings and we dart into a convenient doorway expecting to be trampled in a mass of hungry students rushing homeward for lunch. Minutes pass but no students emerge from the building.
We creep back in and discover them calmly floating about on their low-speed rockets munching large, white pills. Oh yes—of course food in capsule form. E-gad!
Let us now travel to the study hall. As we enter-wonder of wonders—silence reigns. Soon this surprising fact is explained. Each student has carphones and a small control dial at his seat. Gad—radios!
After craning our necks and straining our eyes in this attempt to look 50 years ahead—we turn and run pell-mell back to our beloved 1940 where we can at least get three square meals a day.
Published May 1940. Digitized 2026.
