I navigate the narrow SF streets in my compact sedan. Certain lanes disappear randomly, the directions are ambiguously one-way, and I reach stop signs that are located at far too steep of a grade, such that my undercarriage is scrapped. Also, I magically bypass the annoying lane-separating curbs (a-la-Berkeley) and avoid collisions with equally-confused drivers. I’m getting too close to the Chinatown cart vendors on the side of the road. Two Asian ladies are selling hats and trinkets, and I’m worried I might run over their toes as I approach this stop at a 45% grade. They both smile at me.
My car disappears. To the left, I see the two nuclear containment structures built with glittering black marble like a mosque. The marble is cut in prismatic facets seemingly from single pieces, and they reflect the sun with a glittering texture, possibly doubling as solar panels. Due to the economy of space in the city, the secondary side of the plant is built vertically to the right of the containment, like a Brutalist skyscraper. There is a huge Renaissance mural painted on the side: a beautiful painting showing the key figures and events leading up to the war. Brown and olive are the main colors, with some subdued reds and greens interspersed here and there.
Further to the right, anchored in the port, I see an alternative-lifestyle ark inspired by the Treasure Island music festival and Burning Man from decades earlier. I see revelers with no handheld technologies of any sort dancing with ribbons and playing drum-driven music as part of an agglomerated tribalistic world culture that emerged after the massive conflict.
Seeing all this, I step on my skateboard and begin my descent on the the steep San Francisco hill. This would be quite the daredevil stunt, but there is too much drag and friction and I do not travel very swiftly. A boarder to my left looks at me with concern; I think he’s gesturing to my trucks. My wheels may also be stripped.
At the bottom of the hill, I come to a park where I see A. He makes fun of my skateboard, which is clearly entry-level, but I soon begin to skate rapidly on the concrete, barefoot with no special shoes. This is much more fun, although my smoothness and technique are questionable. Dodging basketballers, I try an undulating motion to increase my speed, like a sidewinder, but the desert sand impairs me.