Living in the Future

Sometimes, as I run along Lac Beauvert, listening to some impossibly fast, sampled drum-beats transmitted from a matchbox size hard-drive in my pocket and with an anonymous woman telling me I've travelled "Four. Point. Six. Five. Kilometers. At a rate of. Four. Minutes. Fifty. Five. Seconds. A kilometer.", deducing my distance and pace by the cadence of my footfall, I often wonder if I'm not living in the future, and that all that would be needed for my life to have taken that final step into science-fiction would be a little Heads-Up-Display in my eyesight, telling me how far I was going, what I was listening to, points of interest etc.

Oh wait...