In the Perfect Human version I wrote about how you even find a few hours for yourself when you’re already tired from work, commuting, and life. Even if you set some routines and boundaries, work, traffic, expensive hobbies, and constant notifications still take up almost all your time.
Here I zoom out. How would work, neighbourhoods, evenings in the city, and the online world look if free time was treated like something that actually matters, not just an afterthought. This is not a political party’s programme. It’s a “what if” that stays close to reality. Same system, just set up so you actually get a few hours of your day back for yourself.
x2) How much time goes to work or “busy mode”
In Better Society, most people can work four days a week. People know their meetings and tasks in advance. One extra day is free or used for learning and personal projects. The job does not quietly stretch into fifty hours per week, so people have more energy for relationships, hobbies, and health. They don’t dream all day about how to escape their employer. The state passed a law so you can choose to work 80% of full time for 80% pay. What matters is what gets done, not how many hours you sit at your desk. In return, companies got some public funding and support to test shorter weeks. We ran a few trials, saw that productivity did not crash and burnout went down, and the four-day option quietly became the new normal.
When work ends, it really ends. At five or six pm, the lights in the office go off, work apps on your phone go quiet, and everyone knows that “quick question in the evening” is not acceptable. If someone has to be available after hours, that is agreed in advance and paid as overtime. Evenings and weekends are no longer chopped into tiny time fragments, so you can actually fill them with people, hobbies, and sleep. The shift came with labour laws that made it clear that outside these hours no response is expected. Companies set clear limits and real on-call shifts for services that must run 24/7. Sectors that lived on permanent availability got clear exception rules. Once people saw the world doesn’t burn down when they disconnect, resistance to this dropped fast.
In these cities everything is built so you can live your life without a car. After work, you walk to the local shop, then to the park. Kids run around, adults sit and talk, someone jogs on a track. In bigger towns, small centres have a clinic, library, and sports centre. You don’t lose free time in traffic jams, so you get a few extra hours every week for yourself. This came from urban plans that made mixed use the standard. Cities invested in buses, trams, cycling lanes, and safe walking routes. Housing policy stopped building endless housing estates where you only sleep and then drive thirty minutes for everything else. The construction lobby and car industry complained. Some residents too. But pilot areas and slow traffic limits showed it works, and over time most people preferred the calmer, closer city.
On Sundays and most holidays, people don’t work and life slows down. Shops and malls are mostly closed. Parks, streets, and paths are full of people walking, kids playing, friends having picnics. People plan lunches with family, visiting grandparents, short trips, or just doing nothing at home. Free time is not only shopping and scrolling. It turns into time for eating together, talking, and moving at your own speed. The change started when a law limited Sunday and holiday retail and allowed only essential services on those days. Small shops and tourist areas got some exceptions and the rules were rolled out slowly. After a few years, revenue stabilised, staff were clearly better off, and Sunday rest simply became part of the weekly routine.
Free time that is not all screens and shopping
In the evenings, the city feels alive instead of dead. You hear music and conversations. Young bands play in squares, an improv group performs a few streets away, art cinemas and small clubs start their programmes after work, not at weird times. A ticket for a film or concert costs little, so students and families can come, not just tourists and high earners. Bars host open mic nights and karaoke without pressure. Sometimes squares turn into hobby fairs where locals show what they’ve been creating. This happened when part of the culture and tourism budget went straight into evening events, live music spaces and museums. Cities helped small venues survive with lower rents and public funding. In return, they had to pay performers fairly. Big players kept their pricey tourist stuff, but also had to give some space and time to the local scene.
Trips to nature are normal, not a luxury for people with cars and money. A family without a car takes a bus or train that stops at the start of a walking path or easy hill. Along the way there are path signs, benches, and water fountains. At the top there’s a simple hut with fair prices instead of tourist traps. A few hours outside becomes as normal as watching TV. Fewer people feel trapped in the city. The key was that the state and municipalities started treating nature like public infrastructure. They built a web of public transport to trailheads, added basic hiking paths, and protected green corridors in land-use plans. Parts of the tourism industry and Airbnb-type landlords complained. Over time, tourist taxes helped pay for maintenance, and the idea that locals should also be able to enjoy their own city became realistic.
Empty, neglected city plots turned into shared gardens. People from the neighbourhood get small garden plots. In the shared parts there are fruit trees and herbs anyone can pick. On Saturdays, families meet there, kids dig and older people show them how to plant things and look after them. Gardening turns into a shared hobby and a regular way to meet neighbours instead of just staring at each other awkwardly in the elevator. Municipalities gave land and basic water and tool sheds, while local community groups run the rest. At first, landowners wanted to build yet another block on every free square metre. Later they agreed on long-term garden leases at a low, stable rent. They earn a bit and the city gains another social space.
Phones are still here, but they don’t swallow every free hour. When you open an app after work or school, it starts by asking how much time you want to give it today. The first thing you see local events, truly informative short articles, and a few courses you might like. After a certain number of posts, the feed stops for a moment. You get a reminder that you hit your limit and see a few ideas for offline activities. At school and in the media, people learn how to spot clickbait and emotional traps, so online debates are still messy but less toxic. Time that used to disappear into doomscrolling is now split more consciously on time with people you care about and things you actually enjoy. This came after laws restricted the most addictive features, including endless feeds, loud notifications, and manipulative user experience tricks. Apps had to offer clear limits and usage reports and start with healthy default settings. Algorithms became partly transparent. Tech companies and advertisers were afraid of lower engagement. The compromise was more paid subscriptions, less invasive ads, and public rewards for platforms that can show they reduce harmful use.
Sport and hobbies for everyone, not just the “talented”
School sports after class are about play and movement, not about creating ten-year-old professionals. Kids stay on the field or in the gym without referees and scoreboards. Coaches teach basics and encourage them to try different sports. At school tournaments, teams are mixed. No one carries the “loser” or “star” label for years. At the end of the year, awards go to fair play, progress, and helping teammates, not only to the top scorer. Parents just watch and cheer without yelling at kids or referees. Public money for school and local sport is tied to how many kids join and how happy they are, not just to results and trophies. Laws limit early competitive leagues and require extra training for coaches who work with children. Real selection and competition come later. Recreational programmes get stable funding. That makes it easier for everyone to accept that in the early years the main goal is to keep the child active as an adult as well.
Neighbourhoods have sports and culture centres you can actually afford. With one yearly membership you can use a gym, pool, climbing wall, music room, and a quiet reading room with a chess table. In one hall there’s basketball. In another, dance practice. In a third, a book club. In the music room someone is learning drums. Going there costs less than one night out, and people feel like they have “their place” and “their people”, not just work and their sofa. This started when cities and the state committed to long-term funding for public sports and culture centres with regulated prices. Laws supported multi-sport clubs that share spaces and staff, which lowered costs. Private gyms and schools could join if they offered some places at accessible prices and got part of their costs covered by the city, while their premium offers stayed on the open market.
After work, adults meet in a classroom in the local school. Some pick up a paintbrush for the first time. Others try a ball sport, acting, or singing. The teacher starts with basics and makes it clear that this is not a talent show. It is curiosity training. Everyone starts from zero, so no one laughs at clumsy attempts. Adults stop saying “it’s too late for me” and dare to try new things again. Municipalities and adult education centres fund beginner courses at friendly prices. Public money goes first to programmes for complete beginners, not to advanced “elite” groups. Private schools and training centres can later take some people into their advanced courses through partnerships. The main thing is that adults have a space where being a total beginner is normal.
Conclusion
In our current Fucked-up Society, it’s treated as normal that work, traffic, shopping, and phones together eat almost all your time. People in power act like this is just your private problem and your lack of discipline. But if you cut some exploitation at work, build fifteen-minute cities, add public spaces for hanging out and moving, and make apps less addictive, the whole thing suddenly looks different. You get a world where the system doesn’t block you every time you want one simple afternoon with family, friends or a hobby.
None of this is sci-fi. It’s really just a mix of ideas that some places are already trying out. The real question is not “can we” but “do we want to”. If we do nothing, the current setting stays. The system is very good at pretending it has no alternative. Somewhere, people have to push, annoy, vote, and organise until small changes finally stuck.
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