There is coffee, never-ending jars and mugs and trucks worth. It is expensive and unique, or cheap and fungible, or free and shitty, but most of all: it is plentiful. Coffee fills urns, not pitchers, and it (and its accessories) fill an entire aisle at the market. If you’re not a snob about things, you can drink enough coffee to make yourself sick for less than a buck a day.
You may put your name on the waiting list for Sarawak Ultra-Liberica Single-Batch, which is grown in Borneo; hopefully your children will get to have a cup of what is called “the best coffee in the world” by the Borneo Coffee-Growers Association. Only five pounds a year of the coffee can be harvested, mostly because 95% of the farmers’ time is spent having fist fights with overly-caffeinated orangutans. It’s simply an inefficient method of agriculture; they should just build a fence or something.
You may have heard of Kopi Luwak, or civet coffee, which is made from cherries a civet has partially-digested and defecated out, but have you heard of Goggy Boom? This $100-a-cup strain has been processed not within the body of an obscure jungle kitten, but in the gut of the best barista in Brooklyn. Someone who really knows their coffee, and talks about coffee while the beans are percolating.
Alternately, you may purchase ten pounds of brown liquid with energizing properties that needs to have sugar and milk products added to it so it doesn’t taste like sad death, and it is so cheap. Coffee needs to be imported–it only grows in between the Tropic Lines–but the American dollar is strong, and has been for a very long time, and so imported commodities are affordable. The milk and sugar are also inexpensive, due to farm subsidies that can only exist within a stable society with a mild, but not overwhelming, level of legalized corruption.
There are alternate realities, and extra-solar planets, and broken timelines without coffee. Hell, there are many places on this earth without coffee, whole societies. Sometimes a country will wake up and there will no longer be coffee. Last month, there was coffee; and lest week, there was a line for coffee; and now there is no coffee.
Not where I am, though, and hopefully not where you are: I will make a fresh pot and write a fresh post, and sit quietly without hurting anyone tonight, or listening to the world at all beyond what some semi-defunct choogly-type band sounded like many years ago, in some second-rate city dead in the middle of America