For as long as I have known, I have had a crippling need to be on the ocean. Which is why Moana still sailed with me, pun intended, although I am twenty-two. When I was younger, I always told my parents of my dream to become a Marine biologist. Mommy said be a doctor, daddy wanted the same but humans have enough doctors. 'There has to be some doctors for nature,' I would always tell them. I miss them; the feeling of being alone has become overwhelming the last few years.

I sigh, tightening my grip on my hoverboard as I look up at the large tank of glass in front of me. It's Friday and I know I have a hectic weekend in front of me so I have planned my routes to the three places that still bring me joy; the Hoverboard Ring, the World Ocean Home—which is where I am now—and finally to the Scape Exhibit.

The World Ocean was one of the largest marine life exhibit in the world, filled with under fifteen thousand species of fishes. I love coming here because it takes me back to a time when ocean life was more than just research and paper. It is 2080 and from my research for my university project, I have realized that the species of fishes had reduced drastically due to human influence. Of course there are other horrible reductions like trees and land animals but my pain mostly centers on the marine life.

A ray swims close to the edge of the tank and my eyes follow it on its journey, I turn, walking along the front of the glass.

I wonder what I would have done in 2020 if I had been alive then; I was not even a fetus but its food for thought. Maybe I would have been influential, convincing people to be more considerate with nature. Not to chop down too many trees, to focus more efforts on cleaning the ocean and raising awareness to the effects of global warming. Maybe I would have taught from school to school, house to house or cleaned whatever I could out of the rivers and lakes. Biologist probably did all this back then but I do not think people listened much to biologist if the world ended up like this. If people payed more attention, then oceans will have more fish, the waters would be cleaner and there would be trees when I surf to school. Instead these are things I only see when I click to Nat Geo Wild to watch 'Shark Week'.

I glance wishfully at the tank, whispering my goodbyes as I turn away to leave the marine institute. The doors slide open; an automated voice rings out, wishing a handful of people exiting the building a good day. I step out into the stale outdoors and look around. There are cars zooming across the buildings with a few surfers making their way around the street.

"See you next week Ryan."

I look back at the mention of my name and nod in acknowledgement. My hoverboard slips from my hand, floating at my feet while I reach up to band my curls into a ponytail. I step on to my board and it zings, registering my weight within a second and strapping my feet in. I stand there for a moment, drawn and tried, looking at the robotic world as it zones around me. I used to love all this, waking up to a house that spoke, seeing cars fly over my head, playing football in a floating cube but things changed with time. The more I loved nature, the more I saw my world as flawed.

Turning my eyes towards the street, I lean forward, pushing my board forward. I smoothly bend into the hover lane, careful not to hit anyone else surfing by. I float higher, straining my neck backwards and enjoying the feel of the wind whipping around my face. Sometimes I like to pretend that the sky is the ocean and when I surf, I act as if I am swimming through thick flowing waters instead of cotton clouds. I imagine I am free.

I spot the Space Exhibit and I masterfully lower myself back to the ground, jumping off my board. My last stop before I head home. It as a small building run by NASA as a way to build interest in the younger generation in relation to space travel. The building is a small square barely sixteen feet in length. There was a 150-inch screen on one side of the wall; it relayed images from space to the people on earth. Astronomy barely held my interest but I enjoy coming here because it gives me a strange sense of detachment from the world.

I stand in front of the screen, seeing images play out one by one. I stare at a particular image, a galaxy cluster that appears to be...smiling? I chuckle, stepping closer to the screen, completely oblivious of anyone around me. I look at the image intensely sinking into the winking galaxies. The more I stare at the smile, the more I feel...elated for some reason. I suddenly remember my parents, their corny jokes and quirky dances, I see my grandmother shouting on the top of her lungs when old songs from her favorite singer was on the television.

I am laughing, aloud to the memories in my head. I notice the people turning back to look at me like I am insane but I cannot stop. Tears are welling in my eyes, my stomach is tight from the strain but I continue. I look up at the screen and it almost seems for that one beautiful moment that the whole galaxy is laughing along with me.

Yah, life sucks but it is just for little moments, there is always something to laugh about. Always.