Walking through the East Village after reading New York 2140, the primary sensation is one of uncanny familiarity mingled with unease. The book’s depiction of a flooded, transformed cityscape is not a fantastical departure but a plausible extrapolation of current trends, making the pre-flood architecture of the East Village—the brownstones, the tenement buildings, the community gardens squeezed between structures—feel both precious and precarious. Knowing the characters navigated this drowned world in the novel, you might find yourself looking at the street corners, imagining the canals that could be, the algal farms clinging to rooftops. The area’s vibrant, resistant spirit, so central to the novel’s ethos of adaptation and community, is palpable, yet it's underscored by the knowledge of the environmental pressures already reshaping the neighborhood and the collective efforts needed to preserve it against the rising tides of the future.