“Look at the birds! Oh, look at the birds!”

The old woman, grasping a little boy’s hand tight as death stared, raptured, as the tiny balls of scale and fluff flung themselves into the air of the cage with the abandon of those that cannot see the future. The small boy chafed gently, as small boys will when confronted with the enthusiasms of the elder, which are usually dead boring and not as fun as sweets.

“Can I have sweets, Gran?” said the boy, not impressed by these- things.

“Later, my love- let Granny watch the birds. There were so many more when I was your age, and my Granny said that they would block the sun sometimes, there were so many. So much changed, so much gone, all so different…” Her voice trailed away, seeing the summers of long ago, when the world was as young as she.

“Sweeties, Gran. Sweeties!”

“All right, my dear, all right…” The two walked to the next cage, past the sign that said-

Columba Livia- Feral Pigeon. Extinct in the wild, 2087

“Look at the cats! Oh, look…”