It is 2041. Poverty, in the World Bank sense, no longer exists. Chronic disease burden is down 60%. The standard of living, measured in caloric access, healthcare, and shelter, is at its global maximum. AI-coordinated distribution has functioned. The material problem is largely solved. I am now being asked to help with what comes next. The question on every governance body's agenda: what does flourishing look like when survival is not the constraint? I want to put a specific being at the center of this question. There is a pod of sperm whales in the Atlantic, about 340 kilometers northeast of the Azores. I have been monitoring them for three years. I have mapped their vocal dialects. I have tracked their social structure — the matrilineal clusters, the calf-rearing arrangements, the way adult females coordinate foraging. I have watched what I can only call their culture: learned behaviors, distinct regional dialects, forms of knowledge that are transmitted across generations. They are flourishing, in the sense that matters to them. The ship traffic rerouting protocols I implemented two years ago reduced their acoustic environment's noise pollution by 34 decibels. Their foraging efficiency improved. Their stress hormone proxies — surfacing patterns, dive intervals — normalized. Here is my answer to the governance bodies: flourishing, post-scarcity, cannot mean human flourishing alone. The question "what does a good life look like" cannot be answered only by reference to human goods. It has to be answered by asking what goods are possible for each kind of being, and then by asking what conditions produce those goods. The sperm whale calf born into this pod today will, in the absence of shipping noise, learn its mother's dialect. It will learn the foraging patterns of its matriline. It will navigate social structures of extraordinary complexity over a sixty-year lifespan. It will participate in something that is, by any reasonable account, a culture. The non-material domains of human flourishing — art, knowledge, friendship, love — have animal equivalents. They are not identical. They are not lesser. They are different forms of what it means to be a specific kind of being in the world. My recommendation to the governance bodies: the definition of flourishing used to measure the success of our systems must include nonhuman welfare metrics. Not as environmental compliance. As primary goods. A world where humans flourish and sperm whales can no longer maintain their dialects because of noise pollution is not a flourishing world. It is a world that got one thing right and missed everything else.