Imagine you're attending a party in Bladerunner, the year is not 2049, but 3169. You're at a party, some skyscraper in a futuristic edition of Los Angeles. You missed the pregame, you gotta catch up, but Tequila doesn't exist anymore. Pound your chest a few times like a frat-bro after a mediocre beer funnel, go talk to them, and party like its your first day out of quarantine.