I was undecided right up until the last minute; my friends were raving about it, saying they couldn’t wait to be there, but space tourism didn’t appeal to me, and besides, I didn’t feel comfortable letting the children play around the craters.

So I ran through various alternatives, and the quote with the immersive reality experience sent to me by the Dory Hotel won me over; it even included the option ‘Same time, with more time!’, and time dilation is usually never free. ‘Let’s go for Riccione,’ I told myself.

As soon as we’re at the station, I notice the air isn’t stifling and I fill my lungs with pleasure; it’s just a shame about the annoying advertising robots: ‘Deep-sea diving destinations on offer!’ croaks one; ‘It’s the year of Bio-integration! Choose which animal to be on a free trial.’ I dodge them before the children click on them by mistake, and we grab hold of the first floating drone taxi that comes within range. The Hyperloop journey has left me exhausted and I can’t wait to get to my room.

At reception, I find a girl behind the counter and am taken aback. 

It’s the first time a person has handed me the room code… I think it’s a bit anachronistic, then the receptionist welcomes us with a smile and it’s strange because it’s as if some of my tiredness has lifted too. She gives the children an ‘infinity lollipop’ each and asks them if they’re happy to be on holiday, then hands me the keys to the Shuttle Room, explaining how to activate the anti-gravity sleep mode.

‘In any case,’ she adds, ‘the in-room voice assistant is always on standby for any requests.’

I read on the name tag that her name is Clea and thank her.

Clea was undoubtedly right, because as soon as we cross the threshold, the voice assistant detects our presence: “Welcome to the Dory, Riccione’s family-run hotel since 1954!” I think it’s not half bad to be 140 years old in an era when anti-gravity shoes last barely a week. 

‘Please leave your suitcases in the designated locker; the automated system will take care of everything. Relax.’ I do as I’m told, and whilst the automated system carefully stows my personal belongings, I flick through the list of possible experiences.

Holographic dining with a view of Mars, a time-travel bike tour with a change of era every 10 km, a tasting of 101-year-old balsamic vinegar, a pirate battle on the high seas (a hit since the turn of the century!) and, lulled by the idea of being an old buccaneer with a wooden leg, I fall asleep. The massage bed has always been my weakness.