Everyday, with Dr. Elias Locke
The Review from Tomorrow
Thursday, October 22, 2026
Thursday.
I arrived at the theater to find a review of tonight’s premiere nailed to the front door.
Four stars. Apparently, the second act was a triumph, the first act was confusing, and the lead scientist was “far too pleased with himself.”
Now, I don’t know about the second act, but the rest is defensible.
I went to the box office and asked the manager how a performance that hadn’t happened could already have a review.
“Advance publicity,” she said.
“From whom?”
“Tomorrow.”
That’s when I noticed the critic’s byline was dated Friday.
I fetched my temporal calibration kit, which is a complicated scientific apparatus consisting of two pocket watches, a slide rule, and a biscuit I hadn’t gotten around to eating.
Both watches agreed it was Thursday. The biscuit had no opinion. The slide rule insisted I owed it an apology.
The manager wanted to put the review on the marquee.
I told her that was a fine way to advertise a bridge before anybody checked whether it reached the other side.
“But the review says the audience loved it,” she protested.
“Then the audience can come back from tomorrow and buy a ticket today.”
A gentleman in a raincoat appeared at the counter, requested a refund, and vanished before I could ask what he’d seen.
The manager looked at me.
I looked at the empty counter.
“Well,” I said, “at least somebody attended.”
Here’s the Locke Method for Thursday: an announcement is not a performance, a prediction is not a record, and a review from the future is still a review you ought to read with some skepticism.
Tonight, we raise the curtain when the actors are ready.
Tomorrow can write its own opinion.
And if the future insists on sending complaints early, I shall insist it use the proper form.
I have already misplaced the form. That should buy us until Monday.
A fictional column from the Electric Icarus universe, created by Jon LaBelle.
