The box was sleek and shiny, like most of their products. No one could claim the aliens weren't accommodating, at least. Every whim and request was met almost obsequiously.
"We have making of for you a give," said the Ambassador laboriously. They insisted on speaking English rather than relying on machine translation. They felt it was a matter of courtesy. "The gift is the future."
"Pardon?" Major Michaels hadn't gotten very much sleep last night, after he'd discovered the full-tactile holosuite.
"Given we you your future."
The box gleamed.
"When do we open it?" Michaels asked.
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