What does the world look like in 50 years?

One continuous eight-second shot, 16:9, the camera already drifting slowly sideways along a concrete balcony three floors above a narrow residential street. Late afternoon. The light is hard and slightly white; heat haze softens the buildings opposite. An older woman with gray hair tied back, in a thin faded shirt, stands at the railing watering a row of small, tough-leaved plants in cracked pots. She does not perform. Below, two compact electric vehicles pass with almost no engine sound, and a low unmanned delivery cart rolls along the curb and stops. Window units hum. Cicadas are loud. From indoors a child calls once, the word indistinct. She glances toward the door, then back down at the street, as if the heat, the machines, and the call are all ordinary. The drift carries her toward the edge of the frame until what remains is the pale sky, the humming facade, and the still cart. No text anywhere.