There are truly inspiring gems of microfiction in here, but reading them in book form is a shallow exercise. They are clearly meant for microblogging platforms, where they intersperse one's other countless number of toots and tweets as welcome nuggets of fantasy.

I want to reproduce a few of them here.

Plants raised in space produced nutrients that would silence the panic of being so deep in the deadly void.

The rich didn't do their own dreaming; they hired technicians to create dreams for them. Every day teams of experts wrote flattering narrative so their corrupt employers could feel like heroes for a few hours each night. It soothed the conscience without the need to repent.

We mastered antigravity, but the technology polluted our water. Rivers soared into the sky, and oceans flowed upward into mountain ranges.

Moths mistake light bulbs for the extinct copper-lily, which grew by concentrating grounded lightning. To this day, hummingbirds still run on sips of nectar taken before the last blossom shorted out.

By popular vote, cold weather was cancelled. Lavender snow fell on green fields that winter, carried by hot winds. Our breath still hung in the air as sticky-sweet dew. Society had little tolerance for those who longed for the vanishing cold. Soon the old seasons were forgotten.