You ask a fellow commuter about recent events. You ask about unemployment. You ask about financial collapse, the pandemic, austerity, the wars in Eastern Europe, and the possibility of inter-imperial conflict. He smiles wisely, and says, “Those are all things of the past now, comrade.” He speaks with a thick Brooklyn accent. His wispy-white hair makes him look like a mad scientist. His knitted mittens seem anachronistic in this future era. It is then that you realize who he is.

It’s Bernard.

You begin to sob as you feel a burden lift from your body. A weight disappears that you didn’t even know was there. Bernie places a paternal hand on your shoulder, and as he draws you into a loving embrace, he says, “I told you electoralism would work, comrade.”