The year is 2046. An elderly Greg Bovino shuffles into a physical therapy office, leaning on his trusty walker. He's helped up onto a table, and a moment later, the therapist comes in. His skin isn't white.

He checks the old man's chart, notes the name, grins. "Hi, Greg," he intones cheerfully, with a faint Somali accent. "Looks like today's exercises might be pretty uncomfortable! Luckily, I've never forgotten what your goons did to me 20 years ago, so this'll at least be easy for one of us."