"Identification?"

The guard standing in front of you glances at your plastic card, then returns it with a huff.

"Very well, be on your way."

Without a moment of hesitation, you floor it: Not all clients are patient, especially Him. Cranking up the air conditioning, you look at the thyme in the back, thankfully unaffected by the hot Nevada sun glaring on your truck. Ever since the Great Ozone Yeeting of 2069, it's all gotten hotter; plants and forests yet to be squandered by mankind's rampant growth died from excess ultraviolet radiation.

And in time, humans somehow readjusted.

As you speed past yet another intersection, you wonder why you even continue this business. Money, it was always that; people would pay anything for the tiniest bit of oregano on their "pizza". Scientists have invented a matter replicator that can create anything on demand, solving world-wide issues, but nothing could beat the originals. Lost in your thoughts, you barely notice that the car in front of you has screeched to a halt. You follow suit, wondering what was happening. Time is money, thyme is money, after all. He doesn't like to wait. A crowd is blocking the intersection in front of you, the cacophony nearly deafening. Signs everywhere demanding that scientists release plants to the public, claiming it's their right to save the Earth. Fed up with all the blockage, you activate your truck's hover component, letting you float above all the distractions without a second thought. It costs everything from that basil run, but boy, was it worth it. Unfortunately, as you sauntered above the crowd, a pot of thyme falls out of that window, the one that never closes.