Arlene stretched luxuriously on her pillow. Many things had changed since the time of her great-grandparents, who lived back in the 1990s and early 2000s almost fifty years ago, but the humble pillow remained. From her place on a Hofa (a hovering sofa) she surveyed the room to make sure there had been no unexpected meteor storm during her sleep. Everything seemed fine. The family robot Poly, short for Poly-Functional B-Class Unit mk2, made his hourly round of the house, checking for anything that needed tidying. There was nothing, so Poly departed to his closet, near the bathroom. Arlene waited for the robot to pass. She disliked him because many a time the plastic man had tread on her tail, stopping just in time so as not to crush it, of course the machine never meant any harm, but still...
      Arlene was a small, white, long-haired cat, but unlike her looks she was aggressive and brave. Many a time that was the only thing that pulled her through in a fight against the neighbor's dog.
      Her supporting staff's house was situated on the outskirts of Sky-4, a veritable flying city above a small green planet in the J'ra'h'ed region. The Hoveropolis, as it is otherwise called was a good ten miles in diameter and covered in lush parks and other vegetation; one wouldn't know that he was fifty miles from the surface of the planet until he looked out of one of the numerous observation windows. To satisfy her curiousity, Arlene had also taken a look. It had been nothing special, just clouds as far as the eye could see...
       She gracefully jumped down from the Hofa and began her daily leaving ritual. The first stop was the kitchen, or at least the eating room; all the cooking was done by robots. There she mewed at the cat feeding system until its microphones reacted to the sound and Arlene's dish popped out with fresh food and water. After feeding she proceeded to her litter box, which she used accordingly and slowly left, with the whirring sound of the machine as it changed the synthetic sand behind her. After a little searching she found an open window and slipped out to face feline adventures, little different from those of fifty, one hundred and, probably, one thousand years ago.