We note receipt of your email, dated 12/08/2089. Please note that, as we deal with such a high volume of requests, we do not respond to all emails. If we feel we can reply to yours, we will contact you in due course.

We thank you for your patience.

Two days had passed. It took that long for one single autoreply to come back.

Imany was out of time. She called the conspirators over and promised to change ‘due course’ to ‘now’.

They departed at nightfall, aiming to reach Ali Hogarth’s by 9pm - a time she would be home, but not too late to seem threatening. Their phones stayed behind to reduce their footprint, and Imany insisted the weapons stay back too - less incriminating evidence, and fists would be enough to persuade a woman like Ali anyway. In case it came to that, Jason would wait in the car for a quick getaway.

Journeying through London’s atomised districts felt tense; the silent minutes before a stage performance mingled with the unease of alien sights. So much city was crushed together, so many subcultures seconds apart, yet the decades had driven borders through them until they felt miles away.

Jason drove them through the toll gate at Vauxhall bridge and past Hyde Park’s eastern face. Kasia looked through the police cordon and into the gaping black void, and her heat skipped. How close they were to Kensington palace, the revolution's home where her Captain now lived. She wondered if her actions tonight would impress him. More than anyone in this car, his opinion mattered.

They skirted along the Mayfair border, past the Caliphate's hotels and Bazaar, and passed the border into Camden. A police tower watched from above, its blackened windows tilting over the city like menacing command bridges. A digital eye scanned Jason's cab and accepted its presence. He had to hope the logged data would be too little to trace back to him.

The kaleidoscope they found could have been from a future century. Camden glowed with neon clubs, karaoke bars, and world food stalls. Bioengineered foliage danced around ad screens. On the ground, holograms beamed out. Even the roads displayed these lasers of data; chevrons humming from green to red, warning human drivers where their robotic colleagues headed. Above, a multiple tier highway of drones travelled lines only their owners could see, piloting from offices across the world.

To the four Kendi Estate serfs it was a scene of foreign wonder that amazed, and hurt. A sci-fi film set materialised before their eyes, goading them with the future once promised to them, but never delivered.

And then there was Islington. The gaudy Camden neo-futurism was gone. Instead, cast iron street lamps warmly lit rustic bakeries, grocers, and antique book shops. Butchers advertised real meat across from cafes arguing against it. Avenues of mighty trees, ripped from nature, stood to attention amidst an Old English aesthetic.

Support the author by searching for the original publication of this novel.

And haunting one corner, a rare remaining example of England’s cultural bastion. The hanging baskets of flowers, the painted wooden sign swinging over the door, the seriffed gold letters stamped into glossy black panels. The traditional pub.

Jason slowed down as he cornered this relic, giving his passengers time to admire it. A hundred acquaintances mingled on an ivied patio, taking real photos with real people, holding ales rich in amber and gold, or crystal flutes of waxy red wine.

Everyone looked so happy. Yet even here the influence of empires crept - stemmed shot glasses of baijiu, bags of ramen shared like crisps, shisha pipes surrounded by hand-sewn cushions.

“What's that?” Kasia pointed at one woman's glass. It yawned wide with fizzy liquid stuffed with green leaves and ice. Imany followed her finger.

“It's a G&T luvvie. My mum's generation used to obsess about them.”

“It's got plants in it...”

“And it tastes like deodorant. It's a poser's drink. But then who here ain't a poser?”

“I dunno...” Jason smiled at his passengers through the rear view mirror, “we always could pop by for a pint after the job's done eh?”

“Not with me you ain't," Sermon scowled, "the last pub I went to this bar wench asks me if I'm applyin' for the toilet attendant role. I had to leave on principle.”

“Yea but did you get the job mate?” Jason grinned. Sermon looked up at him with rage.

“The whole scene's bullshit Sermon,” Imany tutted, "they're nostalgic for somethin' that never really existed. We can have a drink when we get home. Come on, get me away from here.”

The taxi rolled forward and off. A minute later, they reached their destination.

A sleepy palatine hill of villas and lawns rolled before them. Jason drifted into a lay-by of charging points, stepped outside, and pretended to recharge the cab. Imany checked over her shoulder to inspect the back passengers. She found something that had her hissing with anger.

Kasia had brought her knife along, which she now gripped like an ice cream cone. Her eyes were wide with nerves.

“Are you sure we won't need it Imany? I could hide it in my-”

Imany snatched it off her.

“I told you not to bring anythin'! We're fish outta water we need to be discreet. My god how did you get in the revolution? A pigeon could beat you up.”

Sermon rolled his eyes, “yea and what would you do email it a complaint? Kash and I could have concealed our pieces and brought them with us. Where would you have hid that wazikashi, or do I need to ask?”

“It's a katana, and it’s pronounced wakizashi. Wazikashi must be one of those anime boyfriends you fell for. The knife stays in the car with Jason. You rely on me.”

Kasia watched her only defence get locked in the glovebox. She had spent the entire journey not wanting the journey to end. Now they were here, fear set in. The vagrants involved danger, but not social anxiety. Islington was full of both, and in her haste for meaning Kasia had overlooked that the only people able to raise Eva without exploiting her were in sitting this car. She kept telling herself she wasn't breaking any rules.

Jason got back in the drivers seat and offered everyone a weak smile.

“Don't worry eh guys? No ones breakin' any rules!”

Imany grimaced at the street ahead of them and pulled herself outside. Sermon turned away muttering and forced himself out too.

Kasia cursed her life through gritted teeth and followed.