It's 2045. Mayor Mamdani ran unopposed for his fifth term. I looked out the window of my free Central Park West apartment and thought about how far we had come. The groceries were free at first, then the restaurants. The buses were free too, then the Ubers. I looked at my beautiful, government-issued wife and I said "Sydney Sweeney, I can't even remember what all the fuss was about. All we needed was Mayor Mamdani." She kissed our seven children as they were whisked away by the tubes to their Permanent Revolutionary Day School and she said "Darling, don't worry about the past. I know things have been perfect since Mayor Mamdani abolished work, you don't have to remind me. Let's just go back to bed." I nodded and turned toward our bedroom, but before I left I said to my manservant, "Elon Musk, please be sure to tidy up the kitchen before you return to your basement dwelling. We don't want a repeat of yesterday's unpleasantness."
It’s 2027. I’m sitting on a free bus. Open stab wound still dripping. On my way to the grocery store to get bread. The man next to me is cooperating with the neighborhood mental health officer but he’s still gripping the knife. I feel a sense of regret wash over me. Why didn’t I bet on this when I had the chance?