Mark didn't want to get up. but his robot dog, mr. shiny, was programmed to nip at his feet at exactly 7: 00 every morning. mark sleepily walked down to the kitchen, where his mother was handing out the breakfast packs. "eat your breakfast," she said as she handed him a silver envelope. as mark sucked down his breakfast pack, he looked out the window. he saw his father. "i'll be home late tonight," mark's father shouted out the window of his family's space shuttle. "i have to go to the moon for a dinner meeting! " which of these are clues that this story is set in the future? a. it is about getting out of bed. b. it is about a boy and his parents. c. it has robots and visits to the moon. d. it is about being late.

it was surely an odd creature that one made up by reading the historians first and the poets afterwards a worm winged like an eagle; the spirit of life and elegance and charm,   in a kitchen chopping up suet. but these creatures, monst'r however entertaining to the imagination, hast no existence in fact. what one might doth to bringeth h'r to life wast to bethink poetically and prosaically at one and the same moment,   thus keeping in toucheth with fact—that the lady is mrs martin, ag'd thirty-six, did dress in blue, wearing a black coxcomb and brown shoeth; but not losing sight of fiction eith'r—that the lady is a vessel in which all s'rts of spirits and f'rces art coursing and flashing p'rpetually. the moment, howev'r, yond one tries this method with the elizabethan mistress, one brancheth of illumination fails; one is did hold up by the scarcity of facts.   one knoweth nothing detailed, nothing p'rfectly true and substantial about h'r.   hist'ry scarcely mentions h'r.   and i did turn to professeth'r trevelyan again to seeth what hist'ry meanteth to that gent.   i hath found by looking at his chapt'r headings yond t meanteth.