The Library of Unwritten Tomorrows

The future is already written. You just have to find the right page.

Elliot Grayson had given up on words. Once hailed as a literary prodigy, he had spent the last decade watching his career shrivel into obscurity, his name forgotten except for the occasional footnote in “one-hit-wonder” retrospectives. His last manuscript had been rejected by every publisher in the Inner Systems, and his agent had stopped returning his messages.

So when the Asteria Orbital Research Station offered him a residency — an entire year in a secluded, artificial paradise orbiting Saturn — he accepted out of desperation. The contract was vague: he’d have access to an exclusive library that might “inspire” his next novel. It sounded like a polite way of saying, We’ll keep you out of the way while you figure out what to do with your life.

He hadn’t expected the Library of Unwritten Tomorrows.

The first time Elliot stepped inside, he felt a strange, electric pull beneath his ribs. Shelves of books stretched into infinity, spiraling into darkness where the station’s artificial gravity no longer held sway. The books had no titles on their spines — just blank covers in every shade imaginable. No indexes, no catalogs, no librarians. Only an ancient-looking plaque mounted above the entrance:

“The words of tomorrow, waiting to be read.”

Elliot had scoffed at the dramatics. But then, curiosity won.