Walkable cities, they say. Jobs a-plenty. Drugstores that don’t lock everything behind glass. Grocery stores staffed with humans. Lights in living room windows, no cameras in the street, benches in the parks. Only a moderate amount of child torture. More kinds of candy bars than you can count. Fifty seven different kinds of cereal, all free of the bacteria that cause explosive diarrhea.
Really, you could do worse.
A riot breaks out, but it’s just mass hysteria; the rumors of flesh-eating cockroaches spreading ebola are just rumors. The fires, looting, assaults, mass shootings, just the byproduct of any complicated society. The sidewalks are paved, the buildings are accessible, wealth inequality is low, computers are new and exciting, winters are cold, summers are moderate, the hole in the ozone is rapidly closing.
Things can only improve from here.
In the urban core, all the Allan Kupers gather in abandoned theaters, deserted shopping malls, abandoned power stations, turn up the music to drown out the human tide. High stakes unsanctioned dance competitions, a wave of revolution on the crest of breaking. The hungering dust settles on food left too long on the counter, but that’s the nature of things. What is not eaten is consumed.