I snap my smartphone to the handlebars, start the Jumbo app (may be I start an app factory at that time) and see that the local branch celebrate their 10th anniversary with the announcement of a new order and delivery service. "Finally", I sigh, "finally they see the light". It has cost me more than one year to convince them about a profitable delivery service.
But for now I have to go and get my bread, milk and vegetables (no, I won't start a supermarket at that time). My citybike has an electric support wheel so in a few minutes I cycle the 3 kilometer distance through the city. I park my cycle near the entrance, the wheels locking automatically to the frame when I put my bike on the stand.
I take the transport part from my bike, which is now my grocery cart, and get in. Looking at my iPhone I see the optimal route I should take to come along my usual groceries and along the discounts I might be interested in. Walking through the supermarket I sweep my items along the iPhone camera.
Suddenly after sweeping a bar of chocolate the phone bleebs and shows that the same chocolate is much cheeper at the next door supermarket. That's nice, I get the chocolate for free now and the lower chocolate price is automatically sended to the shop manager so he can approve a price adjustment.
Occasionally my dear asked me to take also a package of darjeeling leaves. At home I'd already looked on my iPhone to be sure that it's there, and indeed the tea was not in the assortment. I had pushed the order button, and now in the shop my phone is showing me by photo where to find it among the dozens of other teas. Sweeping the package along the camera I push the detail button and see that the tea comes from Birma. Mmmm. I use the comment button to ask the shop manager whether the tea is ok or not.
At the coffee corner (with home made chocolate cookies) I greet my elderly neighbor and ask her if she would like to use the new delivery service. She admit because doing the grocery shopping is getting too hard for her. Although she likes cycling now since she has also bought a stabilised bicycle from the bike factory mentioned above.
Then a message comes in from my oldest daughter asking me to bring a package of nuts for them. I say goodbye to my neighbor and go for the nuts touching the ok button to let my daughter know I have them.
After putting the last fridge things like cheese, milk and butter in the isolated fridge part of my cart I get a message back from the manager saying that the tea is ok since they buy it right from the Birmese farmers, without interference from the regime.
More or less relieved I head to the exit. At the exit my phone bleebs again asking me if I want to check out. I touch 'yes' to send a payment order, and then 'no' because I don't need a bill.
I walk to my bike, attach the cart on it, push the unlock button and go back home, where I wake up in 2010.
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