A booth on urban water optimization caught his eye. Two young engineers—barely out of university—were passionately explaining how their embedded sensors could detect and prevent leakage across city infrastructure. Their prototype was crude but promising.
“We pitched to a few investors,” one of them said, half-apologetically, “but it’s hard to scale without monetization.”
Rafael nodded. “Still, it’s good work. Important work.”
They smiled, not quite sure what to make of him.
He moved on. A VR simulation showed how an old Chicago neighborhood could be retrofitted into a walkable, mixed-use utopia. Rafael stepped into the headset and found himself strolling virtual streets with fruit stands, libraries, trees bursting out of sidewalk grates. It was beautiful. But then came the caveats: “Sponsored zones,” “ad-funded connectivity,” “pay-tier services.”
Stolen content warning: this tale belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences elsewhere.
Still, the potential dazzled him. No other country, he thought, could fuse imagination and technical skill like this. The U.S. might have lost its compass a bit, but not its genius.
In the outdoor courtyard, Rafael sat on a bench with a paper cup of lemonade. College students buzzed past him, some in suits, others in T-shirts covered with logos and ideals. He watched them with quiet fondness. Ambition was everywhere.
“They’re building the right tools,” he murmured to himself. “Just needs to be aimed better.”
He imagined Mosaic with these tools—automated waste systems tuned for resource efficiency, not profit; adaptive lighting that responded to safety and community patterns, not click-through rates. What America built for capital, Mosaic could use for care.
Rafael folded his notebook and stood. One more circuit of the floor, he thought.
Back inside, the air was cooler and smelled faintly of coffee and warm plastic. He wandered toward a side row of municipal tech demos. One modest booth displayed diagrams of public service vehicles—garbage trucks, snowplows—retrofitted with GPS, onboard diagnostics, and fuel efficiency monitors. Nothing flashy. But effective. Grounded.
A man in a navy-blue polo shirt stood behind the table, answering questions. He had the relaxed confidence of someone who knew his machines inside out. Rafael waited until the small group in front of him moved on.
He stepped forward. “Excuse me,” he asked casually, “do you know if there’s public Wi-Fi here?”
The man looked up with a grin. “No idea,” he said in a broad American accent. “But I’ve got a paper map.”
Rafael blinked.
“My name’s Tom,” said the american from Havana — the one who had once asked him for Wi-Fi., extending his hand. Rafael shook it, smiling.