I love cryogenics. Got my brain preserved, and two centuries later, I woke up floating in a coffin with a twenty-year-old body and all the strength and beauty I’d wasted away on cigarettes and narcotics with none of the dependencies. And the best thing was that nobody remembered who I was.

I pushed myself out of the tiny recovery chamber and found myself mid-air in a corridor full of chambers just like mine.

A display appeared in front of me. “Hi,” a young man said. “Would you like some gravity?”

I nodded, and then fell to the floor with a whumpf.

I discovered that I was on the moon, and that once I was ready I would be teleported to any Earth location I wished for along with a healthy bank account and a swanky apartment to live in.

Before I was frozen, I lived in riot-torn San Francisco, where I had engineered the biggest city-wide meltdown in pretty much all of history.

So now, I logged into a computer and researched major cities in the world. New York, Bombay, London, all looked interesting and politically happening. Turned out that Frisco was now a peaceful, colourful, vibrant cultural capital.

I decided I had something to say about that.