Unfortunately, they have brought their dystopia with them. Terrified of discovery, “the community” follows a strict set of rules and guidelines meant to ensure that they blend in with their surroundings and avoid attention. “We all know the rules. We think about them every day.” The rules go so far as to state that time travelers are forbidden to seek medical attention outside the community — there is a brief, though effectively horrible, mention of a child being denied lifesaving dialysis — but of course, the rule most relevant to the narrative is: “We must never . . . develop a physically or emotionally intimate relationship with any person outside the community.”

Enter Ethan Jarves. Ethan is not a member of the community. His relationship with Prenna is forbidden and, as such, a catalyst for her to question the strictures under which she lives. Immediately after she is confronted by a homeless man who suggests she may be able to avert the disastrous future by changing the present, the leaders of her community target her for death. But why? If a terrible future can be avoided, isn’t it morally right to try? Or, as the community believes, is it more important to “respect time’s integrity and her natural sequence”?

Armed with newspapers from the future, Ethan and Prenna set out to prevent the murder of a scientist, the event they believe is “the fork” that will cause the future to become a reality. But how can they be sure they’ve selected the correct event to change? And what if they make things worse?

In “The Here and Now,” Brashares engages with these questions and to her credit doesn’t provide easy answers. Prenna’s community has fled a terrible future for a past that seems like a paradise: a paradise they are unwilling to relinquish even if that means dooming the future. Prenna herself is baffled that although severe environmental problems were predicted in the late 20th century, no one at that time was willing to make the changes required to prevent them. How much is it worth to live the way we have been living “for another hour, another day”? Whose future are we sacrificing by choosing to do so?

Contemporary dystopian fiction often forsakes larger issues for an intense focus on individuals, and that’s true here. The science behind climate change, sexually-transmitted microbes and environmental disaster is skimmed over, but the narrative’s strength remains in the small, observed details of the everyday. “None of us is remotely free, but at least I get to walk in the sunshine and grow flowers, eat raspberries and swim in the ocean.” While primarily an appealing romantic thriller, “The Here and Now” also serves as a potent reminder that we inherit the future we buy with our actions today.