Amid a haze of smoke that veiled the city, the ARCI Palace stood proudly at its heart, just beyond the winding Thames. From every corner, orchestral music rose into the air. Blue and red flags—symbols of the kingdom—were hoisted high against the pale morning sky. Men and women in formal dress gathered before the grand palace gates. Above them, steam-powered airships drifted gracefully, their shadows rippling over the marble rooftops. From one of the upper windows came the rhythmic clatter of a typewriter, blending seamlessly with the sharp roll of the snare drums as the band began to play the anthem.
♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫
God save our gracious Queen,
Long live our noble Queen,
God save the Queen!
Send her victorious,
Happy and Glorious,
Long to reign over us;
God save the Queen!
♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫
The crowd lifted their eyes toward the red-curtained balcony as they sang. Royal guards in bright scarlet uniforms stood firm behind the gates, keeping the people at a respectful distance. Then, a woman stepped out—a figure of elegance in a violet coat draped over her shoulders, her silver-white hair tied neatly into a jeweled knot that caught the sunlight like crystal.
The people erupted in unison:"Long live the Queen!"
She raised her hand in a gentle wave. From above, she dropped a red lollipop, which twirled through the air and landed into the tiny hands of a little girl standing at the front of the gate. The girl clasped it close, smiling through tears of joy. Doves fluttered above the crowd, circling the palace dome as the Big Ben bells rang out, marking the rhythm for the royal band.
"Grant her, Lord, to rule forevermore,With peace and justice for all!"
The girl sang softly, her voice trembling with emotion. Overhead, a fleet of hovering drones captured the moment from every possible angle—the shimmer of the palace windows, the sea of waving flags, the glow of tears beneath the sun.
♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫
May she defend our laws,
And ever give us cause
To sing with heart and voice,
God save~~~ the~~~ Queen~~~~~
♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫
The little girl was lifted onto the shoulders of an older man, her eyes fixed on the balcony above. The Queen, radiant yet distant, seemed to shine and darken all at once—her silhouette cast in black against the blazing gold of the sun. Its rays broke through the mist, bathing the child's face in a divine, amber light.
She smiled, her heart swelling with awe at the sight of the monarch and the splendor of the palace rising behind her like a vision from a dream.
Above, drones soared higher, revealing a breathtaking panorama—the Tower Bridge glittering as if inlaid with diamonds, airships drifting over the clouds, and the great Ferris wheel by the Thames spinning slowly beside the city's curling chimneys. From those chimneys billowed multicolored smoke that painted the sky in faint, shimmering letters:
Celebrating Her Majesty's 120th Jubilee—April 20, 2045, London.
"Don't forget where you came from, Adeline." The old man said to the little girl.