Nigeria, 4050. By then, people no longer cursed bad roads the way their ancestors did. Not because government had finally become responsible, but because roads had become almost ceremonial. Distance itself had been humbled. From Lagos to Kano, from Abeokuta to Enugu, from old physical settlements to the layered virtual districts suspended in sensory grids, people moved by fold-gates, slipping through quantum transit so quickly that travel felt like memory changing its mind. The old traffic survived only in jokes, proverbs, family stories, and museum simulations. “Sit down,” elders would tell children. “Let me explain what a six-hour journey that should have taken forty minutes used to mean.” The children would laugh as if hearing a folktale about the tortoise and the goat. Money had changed too. No naira. No dollar. No pound. Only tokens, issued monthly by the Global Hub, the planetary intelligence that regulated production, health, welfare, climate stability, logistics, an...