Neon lights still bled into wet streets after every rain, but now they reflected off autonomous delivery drones that zipped between skyscrapers like caffeinated bees. Vending machines had evolved past instant ramen and hot coffee; they offered miniature holographic pets that lived on your wrist for a week, mood-stabilizing vapor sticks, and—on Tuesdays—complimentary existential advice from a rotating cast of dead philosophers.
