The year is 2077. After the dinner at the seniors' home (Fresh shrimp off the coast of Pacifica), my fellow pensioners and I return to our cabins to mindlessly watch holo-television in order to avoid thinking about how fucked the world is. At least, that what I tell them I do. Using my expert JavaScript skills from the old world, I instead tune my holo-tv to a secret channel, one that has been operating for the last 50 years. All it shows is gameplay from an old-world game, along with an animated 2D character in the corner, seemingly playing said game. She dies to the same enemy over, and over, and over again. She has done so for the past 50 years. Her voice is frail and shaky, not even remotely fitting the youthful angel girl depicted, yet there she is, determined to beat this monochrome skeleton. Her defeated sighs of "mouuuu" lull me into peaceful slumber, allowing me to rest through the commotion of a meteor crashing into the Earth. I die in my sleep. She never defeats the skeleton. All remains as should be.