In the last hours before the new year, a bar opened its doors for the first time in a week.
The master of the house stalked behind her varnished wooden counter, arranging her wares and stacking her glasses in perfect order. Outside, the endless grey clouds were permeated only by lifeless neon streaks, gaudy holograms that slashed and gutted their way across the skyline. Above her, far above her little, poorly lit tavern, two walls of metal and concrete soared hundreds of feet into the air, pierced by light and run through by liquid crystal. They stood like gods on either sides of the causeway, heralding the end of the twenty first century.
The time flashed across one of the colossal display screens.
December 31st, 2099. 6:47 pm.
The bartender sighed, and asked herself again why she was still on this used-up world. Maybe Times Square was the only place to be on New Years Eve, on this or any star.
The woman behind the bar glanced up as the first of her patrons wandered in through the door, shaking the rain off themselves and calling for a drink.
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