The year is 2035. Everyone who can works from home. All the now-empty office block buildings have been converted into urban farms and gardens. The verges beside the roads have remained unmown for years, and insects are flourishing.

A kid on your street has just turned 18. They have their photo taken holding their first universal basic income cheque. They’re going to volunteer to join the Ocean clean-up crews out in the Pacific, though there’s not much left to be done, now.

You go to the library, where they’re holding a talk on life in 2020. They talk about C19, and how it changed the world. How, in the face of a pandemic, the human race became kinder, more humble, and generous. You sit and you listen to the talk, and smile behind your cloth mask.

The virus never went away, and young people struggle to understand old footage of crowds and concerts. But humans never stopped being together. They came together in different ways. They saw what was truly important, and they poured their hearts and funds into preserving it.

You walk into the old city, and look up at the plants streaming down the skyscrapers like green waterfalls, listen to the buzz of insects flying up to visit the urban farms feeding the world. You feel the sun on your skin. You see someone you love. And they love you, too.