The capsule

The future awoke not a dead collections of trinkets but a man. Feld was his name. On awakening him from a cryogenic sleep, the young doctors had laughed that this had all been an experiment. Revival from cyro had long been derided as an impossibility. The technicians marveled at him, a man who had lived and died in the twenty-first century, the century that was supposed to be the last that mankind would live. It was 2100 apparently. Cars on the streets. Cars everywhere, belching exhaust like the old days. Jets. Hamburgers.
“How?” he had finally asked a man.
“First we cleared the wheat, killed the excess, eliminating man. Why we couldn't give up our cars just so all those useless mouths could feed on land that could be producing ethanol. I can't argue with results. Now our ships probe the stars.”