I walked across the crowded streets of New York, the shadows of buildings streaking across the brightly-colored cars, their motors humming softly as people rushed back and forth, no one saying a word, their AirPods blasting information into their ears at a rate faster than the human mind can process. Many of the massive displays lined the streets were still destroyed from the previous night. Those that remained read Happy 2043 in bright coloring. My heart was beating quickly. It always has, and always will. I’ve become used to the attacks at this point, guns don’t even faze me anymore.

My father was killed when I was young by a terrorist attack in my apartment complex, and my mother is covered in scars from wounds of the same night. In my pocket lay a cool piece of metal—my revolver. A relic of an ancient time, given to me by my father, it is one of my last memories of him. Him handing me the gun, nearly as big as my arm, as I was very young, and me asking him what it was. I remember. The guns of today aren’t like this. This expertly crafted tool was used by actual people, not by these husks of what once was. Friends recommend that I sell the gun, I could make a little money to help me get out of here, and I’ve thought about it. Oh, have I thought about it.

I turned the corner into a dark alley, my footsteps echoing on the smooth floor. Then, I saw him. The red man. At first, I didn’t know what he was, all I could see was a red splotch on the dark building, but as I walked closer, I noticed… He had… Hair. I was shocked. No one had had hair in almost a decade, it is considered a security risk, but he had hair. I walked closer to him, not saying a word, as I was shocked. I reached out and felt it. It was wet, grimy like a dog who just jumped in the mud… Back when dogs still existed. But he moved. He turned around and I saw his eyes. Bulging out of his skull like a fly, his pure white eyes with small, black pupils stared me down. They looked almost… lifeless. I nearly screamed, but no. I might’ve been taken if I had screamed. I just backed away slowly, thinking about my next move. But he thought faster, his thin, noodle-like arm wrapping around my neck. And then I felt it. Pain. I had not felt pain in many years, modern technology and entertainment had nearly eliminated it. And he squeezed. And I screamed. And my AirPods fell out. And my mind was a void, empty of the constant stream of information I once had, I nearly had a mental breakdown and went into shock instantly, but my instinct overcame the drugs that poison all people with weakness and stop their hormones and I ripped free of him. I reached into my pocket instinctively and grabbed my revolver. And I shot him in the chest. But it was too late, he was unfazed by the lead bullet, and he jumped on me, his fur smothering my breathing, and my arm dropping my only means of defense. And I lay there still, contemplating the red man, as the last fluids drain from my body, and My heart’s beating finally slows, solving the only thing science couldn’t… Emotion.