The year is 2052…

The year is 2052…

You turn on the tv to see the usual spiel from politicians: the global cooling crisis, electric-powered cars being terrible for the environment, and of course another clone of Elon Musk delivering an inspiring presidential speech (he clones himself every 8 years to get around the re-election terms).

Your daughter turns to you and says, “It’s pretty crazy out there, huh Dad? But Dad, why don’t you ever have to go work in the meta verse like Katie’s dad? Are we rich?”

You take a prolonged sip of electrified water, the tingling sensation tricking your senses into thinking it’s your old friend you used to know so well: alcohol. Of course you stopped drinking back in 2024 when everything changed. A smile tugs at the corner of your mouth as the memories flood back. “There were two types of people back in the recession of 2023, Suzy. Those with paper hands like your friend Katie’s dad and then there were people like me…people with diamond hands…”