Sincerely, the Future

The first time he meets Charlene, the host of Empathy Today, Tom knows he's going to have a hard time sticking to his story. It's not that she asks hard-hitting questions or creates a confrontational environment. Her way of teasing out the truth is far more compelling: Charlene cares. About people. About sincerity. She's a woman of integrity.

It's mutual admiration at first sight when Tom sits down in her recording studio, opposite Charlene across a large black table with a mirror finish. This is unlike any recording studio he's ever been in. It's upstairs in a beautifully restored Tudor house with vaulted ceilings. Tom's plush burgundy velvet armchair is luxurious and extremely cozy. Charlene's gentle, amber eyes draw him in, and he's immediately at ease, relaxed, comfortable.

"Hi, Tom," Charlene begins in her signature slow, welcoming voice that feels not only accepting but validating. "I appreciate you coming on Empathy Today. I have a question for you."

Charlene's podcast is a question-and-answer format, so this comes as no surprise. What does surprise Tom is how sincere she is. That's what her eyes show more than anything else.

"You're the founder of Green Effect Media, which publishes optimistic speculative fiction, a genre called Solarpunk, or the term you prefer, Positive Futurism. You're a public speaker on the climate crisis with a talk titled The Birds and Bees of Climate Change, and you host a podcast called Stories from the Future. But my question for you is" ~ Charlene's eyes soften, her voice hollowing out ~ "Why invoke the persona that you're from the future?"

It's the way she asks. With such alacrity. She isn't condescending, disbelieving, disparaging like others often are.

"It's not a persona," Tom says matter-of-factly, a little cold compared with her warmth. "And I very rarely mention it. You've done your research. You're good. I actually am from the future. Can you ask me about something important, like how humans reversed climate change, or how we finally implemented a socially just and economically equitable government? Why turn an interview with someone from the future who can answer all of those questions into a human interest story about me?"

"Tom," Charlene says, "some people think your ideas are ahead of their time, but no one believes you're actually from the future."

"Don't you think I know how crazy it sounds?" Tom asks. "Do you think I would risk that kind of reputation if it weren't true?" Tom immediately regrets that he's getting defensive. He's accustomed to criticism, even though that's not what Charlene brings to the table ~ the smooth, white speckled onyx table. Tom can see his reflection in the polished tabletop so clearly it's like looking into his soul. The reflection beckons him to tell the secret he's been carrying for five years now. Charlene's eyes tell him she would care. All she has to do is ask. She doesn't. She's tactful. Every fiber of Tom's being aches to tell her everything she wants to know.

"Can I tell you a story about the first time I decided to reveal I'm from the future?" Tom offers.

"I would love to hear about that," Charlene says.

"It was at a Chamber of Commerce event in Kansas City, Missouri where I live..."

A woman with a name tag bordered by a red square resembling a For Sale sign asked me, "So, what line of work are you in?"

"I am a Futurist," I proclaimed.

"A Futurist?"

"Yes, I imagine a better world for a living," I said.

She raised her eyebrows incredulously. "Sounds like you're a professional hippy. I'm a Real Estate Agent. I work in the real world."

She walked away with a harrumph, and that's what pushed me over the edge. No matter what I said or did, no one was taking my work seriously. I held back my urge to make a comeback. I had learned the hard way that being confrontational wasn't the way to convince anyone that lasting change is a life-and-death proposition in the 21st century. But I wanted to say, "That's not fair. I'd never call you a Used House Salesman." There's such a thing as being too honest. Whenever I'm too up-front, people just walk away. They just disappear on me.

When I first arrived in the 21st century, I earned a living as a web developer and made pretty good money. I worked on saving the future as a part-time gig, but something about that seemed wrong. Saving the future as a side hustle? Many of us ~ especially those of you who are actually from this century ~ struggle to find a way to carve out careers in the still non-existent Global Change Movement. (That will change by 2050, but I'm getting ahead of myself.)

My first love has always been writing, but to make a difference in the future ~ not to mention earn a living in the 21st century ~ I couldn't just be a writer. I had to be a writer and a publisher and a public speaker and a podcaster. So I took a leap of faith and left my six-figure income behind.

Even though I'm from the future, I'm still a lot like you. I can't just crash a black-tie event and introduce myself to Leonardo DiCaprio or Prince Harry and tell them, "I'm here from the future to help save the planet." So, I show up at Chamber of Commerce breakfasts and other networking events with my elevator speech at the ready just in case anyone looks like they might take time travelers like me seriously.

I took three long strides across the carpeted hotel conference room, careful to keep my plate of perfectly scrambled eggs and ideally al dente bacon from tipping. I caught up with the Used House Agent just before she slipped into her next conversation with an insurance broker. I may not have anything to sell her, but I was confident I had something to offer.

"Hear me out," I said. "I have an elevator speech. Can I at least tell you that much?"

She nodded, somewhat reluctantly. "Sure."

I decided then and there that today was the day things were going to change. I was going to tell the truth, throwing consequences to the wind.

"Ok, you caught me," I said. "I'm not just a professional Futurist. I'm actually from the future. I'm a publisher, podcaster and author of stories that tell about the world I come from, one of renewable energy, social justice and economic equality. I'm a secret agent in the Global Change Movement. I've come back to your time to influence the changes that need to happen."

If anything, her look of skepticism deepened the wrinkles on her face, worn heavily through years of cynicism living in a culture based on competition instead of cooperation.

As if on cue, the emcee of the Chamber of Commerce breakfast announced that we all should take our seats. Phew! Saved by the bell. I still haven't got the knack for small talk in this century. I can fake it on good days, but it's exhausting. I'll be drained for a week after this Chamber event, but it'll be worth it. I was selected as the Keynote Speaker today representing the most unique profession among new members.

Global Change Agent from the Future? Yeah, I'd say that's pretty unique. But I wasn't ready to tell everyone that, so I introduced myself as a "Storyteller" and opened with an unbelievable, if true, story.

"Do you know what the greatest irony of the 21st century is? The world's largest online megastore is named after the most vital ecosystem on Earth which we exploit to make our addiction to materialism possible. It's as if there's a big red flag waving in the wind. The irony makes the truth so glaringly obvious that it's ignored, hiding in plain sight. I must come from another planet. On my planet, let's call it the Future Earth, no government or corporation would ever consider making a coffee table out of a Kapok tree. The current Earth has its problems, that's for sure.

"Your economy .. errr..." ~ I stammer ~ "the modern-day economy is still based on endless growth while the forests are laid waste. Similar to a serious accident, the 21st century is looking more and more like a near-death experience if we're not careful. We need to slow down, buy less, do less, be more present with our loved ones. One of my favorite 21st-century authors, Charles Eisenstein, has called the convergent crises the planet faces a "Rite of Passage." This is our last chance to figure out a new way of doing things.

"I don't want you to think I'm talking out of my hat, or that this is mere philosophy. Three years ago I had a serious concussion. Do you know how I recovered? I started caring about something greater than myself. I had the luxury of time to consider what was really important. Time for reflection shouldn't be a luxury, but between jobs, mortgages, and fast-paced lives, it is. By necessity, I learned to slow down. The first year of my recovery was hell. Similarly, serious challenges lie ahead if Earth is going to recover from the age of fossil fuels, and if society can finally rise above social injustice and economic inequality. I don't want the 21st century to be a near-death experience like I had. Is there a bright future at the end of the tunnel? To be honest, I've seen the future we're heading for, and like the proverbial iceberg, trust me, it's one we want to avoid.

"In 2012, I founded Green Effect Media. I self-published a few books through the imprint, but honestly, I didn't do much else with it until after my concussion. I published the inaugural episode of my podcast just a few months ago, Earth Day 2021. The Stories from the Future podcast is your engraved invitation to imagine and submit your own stories from the future to be read on air, published in anthologies, and affect the future. I implore everyone to be proactive about the future you want. That's the only way it's going to come about."

"Tom, can I cut in for a minute to ask a question?" Charlene asks. "You mentioned your concussion and how it inspired you to change your life, to really do something with your publishing company."

"That's true," Tom says, "and pursue a career as a public speaker by writing a TED talk. Before the concussion, I had all of those ambitions, but I was just going through the motions of my life, living in the suburbs, working as a web developer."

"So why not just start the story there? Why tell people you're from the future?"

"Because, Charlene, if I don't tell people I'm from the future, no one takes what I have to say seriously. They just think I'm crazy!"

Charlene feels the prickly goosebumps of truth on her arms when Tom tells her that. Ironically, she understands how a far-fetched story about being from the future might seem more plausible than humans actually reversing climate change ~ and more captivating.

"People today are just not ready to accept that everything needs to change," Tom says. "The urgency of the 21st century calls for a radical re-imagining of the way we do just about everything ... from consumerism to airline travel to creating an economy based on cooperation. People just don't take that seriously enough to act differently."

"So if you tell us you're from the future, that gives you ... credibility?" Charlene asks.

Tom decides to redirect. Charlene isn't the only one with expertise in directing on-air conversations. "I think this is a good time to explain something about time," Tom says. "Would you indulge me for a minute?"

"Definitely. Go for it," Charlene encourages, "I'm actually fascinated by temporal paradoxes and quantum physics."

Her agreeable tone continues softening Tom, like water on limestone. Tom begins, "Time is like a spiderweb, a mandala, with an almost infinite number of threads. The term Mandela Effect describes the phenomena of inconsistencies in some people's memories about the past. The term is thought to get its name from a false memory of Nelson Mandela dying in prison. But it has nothing to do with the South African Political Leader. The term is actually the Mandala Effect. It describes the infinite web of all future possibilities extending outward from any present moment ~ like a spiderweb, or a dreamcatcher, or a mandala. From the 21st year of the 21st century, there are very few threads leading into a positive future. One of the few ways to change the world involves telling people about the actual solutions that do happen before they happen. If time takes its natural course, the solutions don't come in time. Sorry, I don't mean to talk in riddles. The solutions come too late without intervention from the future. That's why I and others like me have traveled back in time to tell Stories from the Future. We're taking a huge risk. We're violating every fiber of the Temporal Paradox Directive, but you would do the same thing if you had the chance. I've seen the future. I already know that breaking the Temporal Paradox Directive is the only way to change the past. We've already tried everything else."

"Fascinating," Charlene says. "Ok, I'm all in. Tell me about the future. Please, continue your story."

"Wait, so you believe me?" Tom asks.

"Let's just say I'm suspending disbelief until the end," Charlene says.

"Fair enough," Tom says and then continues. "That was just when things at my keynote address to the Chamber of Commerce got interesting..."

Someone from the audience piped up, "So, give us some solutions to all the convergent crises."

"Ok," I said, uncertain at first how to begin. This was the first time I had decided to bend the rules this far. I stepped off the raised speaker's platform and began walking slowly between the tables, leaving my notes behind, determined to tell the humans point-blank what they were up against and what they ultimately did about it.

"Consumerism and materialism are addictions, and a Twelve Step program to help everyone slow down has to come. Summer camps for adults focusing on healthy relationship skills are something I hope to organize in the next few years. Next, society needs to shed the toxic masculine behaviors that have been holding us hostage for thousands of years. More men's work to teach healthy masculinity really helps, respect for the feminine and respect for Mother Earth.

"And then there's the crucial need for social justice based on compassion and secular ethics ~ the Dalia Lama's phrase. So many of the other critical global changes ~ like becoming a carbon-neutral planet and environmental restoration ~ only take place after we realize we're all in this together. We have to remember to take time to care about each other."

I was starting to get into this! I was turning into a Walt Disney marionette up there on stage. I was getting animated. But how far should I go?

"Eventually, English adopts a whole new set of pronouns, which change the way we see the world. Ki and kin, first proposed by Robin Wall Kimmerer, are from the Native American Anashinabee language. Ki and kin are gender-neutral, singular and plural, and simply mean: not separate from others. Thinking less in terms of self-first and more in terms of our relationships within our communities is a big step. 20th-century society was based on hyper-individualism. 22nd-century society is based on equality and community. That's the transition. Did you know English is one of the only languages to capitalize the pronoun I? The linguist Otto Jespersen researched that 200 years ago. It's the only personal pronoun English capitalizes other than the masculine pronoun for God. So, if we're equating I with He, and excluding the feminine from God, is it any wonder there's so much toxic ego in the modern world, especially in America?"

I could tell I was bending the Temporal Paradox Directive too far ~ being too honest. I'd already said too much. I was losing my balance on the temporal tight rope that allows time travelers like me to stay present. If I said anymore, I'd be in danger of disappearing. It was time to wrap up my talk at the Chamber of Commerce.

"I love publishing Stories from the Future because nothing happens without us first getting inspired to take action. What future do you want? The dystopian one you fear, or one we can look forward to? If you had to lay it all on the line, what visions of the future do you want to see come true? The future is the very definition of a self-fulfilling prophecy."

Just as I uttered the words the future is a self-fulfilling prophecy, my conscious attention skimmed across the surface of time, like a stone skipping off a pond, and landed a few years in the future.

"You disappeared?" Charlene interjects like a little kid watching a new animated film for the first time. Charlene isn't saying, "You expect me to believe that!?" Rather, she's more like, "That's so cool!"

"Yep, I disappeared," I say.

"What did the audience see when that happened?" she asks.

"Come to think of it, I don't know. When my present moment shifts, it's kind of like gliding in one of those flying squirrel suits across space-time. You'll really have to try it for yourself sometime."

"So where did you go?" Charlene asks.

"I jumped ahead to an event that hasn't happened yet..."

I'm no longer in a beige hotel conference room. Now I'm standing on a black-and-red stage. The audience is lost in the glare of a spotlight, but I know it's a crowd of hundreds. This is the TED I give a few years from now.

The floodlights are bright, uncomfortable, but I'm so passionate about Positive Futurism that I can hyper-focus, tune out all the distractions. I'm no longer podcasting out of my home as I do now with my little Zoom microphone. I have a studio in a tall office building overlooking the Kansas City skyline, a contrast of downtown buildings with native prairies off in the distance. By then I'm able to monetize my podcast through the support of a Patreon community and on-air promotions, and it has begun to reach a wider audience.

Although we don't use money in the 22nd century, figuring out how to "earn a living" in the 21st century has been a full-time stressor. Finally finding funding is a huge weight off. It reassures me that making a difference is possible. After that, my tone takes on a candor of deeper calm and stalwart confidence.

I walk stage left across the circular red carpet, the hallmark of a TEDx conference. "The need for optimistic futurism has never been more clear. As I was researching this TED talk, I came across an article in The New Yorker titled, "The Golden age of Dystopian Fiction: What to make of our new literature of radical pessimism." Goodreads also reported that dystopianism has been sharply on the rise since 9/11. There's even a film currently streaming about "Covid 2023," and that's just inappropriate merde, pardon my français. On Amazon, 'dystopianism' is an official category, but Solarpunk ~ which is optimistic sci-fi, isn't. Dystopianism can be a catharsis for our collective fear, but it's also catapulting us towards a future we don't want. Solarpunk and Positive Futurism are gaining momentum. They represent speculative fiction that revolts against that despair.

"Stories from the Future is rooted in a recognition that communities come together like never before during a crisis. We tell hopeful, inspiring and uplifting tales, giving readers role models who rise to the occasion and offer hope for the future that we can overcome any disaster, even climate change. I'm used to being told I'm naive, even from another planet. At least I'm not the only one. One of my greatest influences is teenage activist Greta Thunberg for telling it like it is to the United Nations. I also admire the podcast LeVar Burton Reads and all the pioneers of optimistic sci-fi, from Star Trek's Gene Roddenberry to Jules Verne. Paraphrasing what Greta Thunberg told our world leaders at the United Nations: we need to grow up. Along those lines, Positive Futurism tells Wake Up Stories instead of bedtime stories.

"I had to go through a major concussion before my life came into focus and I started taking the future seriously. When I was recovering, a strange thing happened. Twice, I saw myself rising over my body. Both times, the same friend called me on the phone, and that brought me back to Earth. I have to believe there was some reason that happened. I hope my work can contribute to a better future. I hope my story can inspire anyone who has ever felt like they are from another planet, or don't fit in here, to realize that the reason we're here is to make a difference."

The TED clock at the foot of the stage ticks away the final moments, but there's still so much more I planned to include. How can I put it all succinctly?

"The tide is changing," I say. "Solution-oriented thinking is when we focus on the world the solutions bring about. We stop fixating on the problems and just fix them. We have to think ahead.

"I know this is a room of practical people. On a practical level, the audience for Stories from the Future isn't just the growing Solarpunk niche among science fiction fans. It's everyone who has a vested interest in the future, especially the next generation. Pragmatically, that's all of us. It's not as far-fetched as you might think. Many technologies and practices that power a positive future already exist: from the Great Ocean Cleanup to mushrooms that digest plastic. Mother Nature is trying to help. We need to focus our energy and attention on solutions because that creates more."

Only seconds remain on the clock. I can hear the iconic TED ripple effect coming, the sound of a new idea dripping like water rising over applause.

"There aren't any Global Change Agents coming from the future to save us. Tag. We're it."

"There aren't any Global Change Agents?" Charlene asks after Tom finishes his story.

"I told you I don't often talk about being from the future. People think it's crazy." Tom's body language shifts uncomfortably in his velvet chair, and he takes both arms off the speckled onyx table defensively.

Charlene diffuses his emotions with a gentle wave of her hand. "I know. But I don't care what people think. I want to say something, and you can respond honestly if you feel comfortable."

Tom says, "Ok," because he can feel Charlene isn't just probing him to get a good story. She really cares. It's a rare trait, one most people don't have the patience to offer each other anymore. Her podcast, Empathy Today, deserves its name. She's just so sincere. Tom leans forward again, into the cool tabletop.

"The way you think, and the things you think about, how much you care about the world, about the future, really must make you feel that you don't belong here," Charlene says. "I get it. You must feel like you're an alien." She pauses. "How am I doing so far?" she asks tenderly.

Her empathy shines like a growing light, beaming out from her. Anyone in her presence can feel it, like the warmth of bathing in hot springs. Tom nods.

"So you created a persona that you aren't from here. But there are so many others who feel the way you do, who feel like they don't have a voice to express themselves. A lot of people I know look at the world right now and think, WTF?"

She's right. There are. She hit the nail on the head. Tom takes a deep breath, sits back in his plush chair, feels like a huge weight is being lifted. She does get it. He catches sight of his reflection on the tabletop and makes a decision. He wants her to know. "Off the record, okay?" he says.

Charlene nods, taps her tablet, turns off the recording software.

"I couldn't live in a world where people don't care about each other or the planet. It was more than a concussion. It was a suicide attempt. That was five years ago."

Charlene is silent. She knows the truth when she hears it. She feels honored that he would share that with her. She doesn't put her hand on her heart, or look sympathetic, or say anything trite in an attempt to be consoling. She just slowly nods with sincere understanding. A soft yellow glow begins to emanate from her chest and expands until it fills the whole room, rising up to the vaulted ceiling, resonating through the rafters like a silent symphony. Empathy.

It feels like the holy spirit is filling the room. It feels like having an epiphany, for both giver and receiver. It arises whenever we take more time to hear each other out, to simply listen.

Tom wipes his eyes. The yellow glow subsides slowly from the periphery of his vision.

"The world is in a crisis," he says after a moment, "but statistics about global warming and deforestation and dying coral reefs don't get at the deeper truth, which is that it's our behavior that's all wrong. We plunge deeper and deeper into anxiety and depression and anger, and we glorify violence and aggression and hatred. Just look at the record number of mass shootings in America every year, to cite just one example. What circumstances have caused so many people to feel so torn apart they resort to such drastic violence? What hurts? We don't listen."

In a moment pregnant with silence, the world seeps into Charlene in a way it never has before.

"The world needs a hundred thousand Buddhas right now," Tom says, "and I've been privileged to meet a few."

"Your partner?" Charlene asks.

"My partner is one of them," Tom says.

"Are you married?"

"Well, let's just say it's a long-term relationship. She's from the future too. She found me when I was going through hell and back. I wouldn't have recovered at all if it weren't for her. For three years after my concussion, I couldn't work, couldn't do much of anything. There was only one person I met who cared, who deeply cared, and that's what healed me, the resonance of deep sincerity and caring. She's a real-life Boddhistava. She picks worms up off the pavement and moves them back to the grass so they don't dry out. She helped me like that. Do you know what it feels like to be cared about that deeply?"

Chills trickle up Charlene's spine. "No, I can't say I do." But in that instant, she understands. Tom can feel a better world so deeply, so poignantly, and he felt so powerless in this one that he tried to leave it. In many ways, it is the voice of a better future he's speaking with. His life's work is trying to give a voice to others who feel similarly, to express themselves through fiction and hope.

"I imagine it must feel like shouting in a long, dark tunnel and only hearing the echo."

The words give him chills. "Yes, that's it, exactly," Tom says. "Empathy, caring, kindness, compassion, that's what saves the world," he says. "For the record, that's the only thing that matters."

"I'm hearing you talk about a world of economic equality and social justice and environmental activism. But I think I understand what you really want," Charlene says. "You want a world where people show each other respect and kindness and who take the time to listen," Charlene says. "I get it. You don't have to pretend to be from the future. I want to live in that world, too. A lot of us do."

Finally, someone other than just himself and his partner can sense it, can feel the future that Earth might have. It's as if a light at the end of the tunnel suddenly flickers on. An ember of hope. One person at a time, that's how the Global Change Movement spreads.

And then a most peculiar thing happens. It's caused by Charlene's ability to listen. The world of the future has been heard, felt, glimpsed by someone from this timeline. It isn't honesty that causes it to happen this time. It's empathy, and there's no Temporal Paradox Directive against that. Right there, out of his crimson velvet seat, right in front of Charlene's eyes, Tom simply disappears.

An excerpt from this story can be heard on Episode 3 of the Stories from the Future podcast titled "Global Change Agent from the Future."

Tom Tortorich is the founder of Green Effect Media and hosts Stories from the Future. His novel The Eden Syndrome is available on Amazon. Tom is also a Public Speaker on Reversing Climate Change and has trained with Project Drawdown: 100 Ways to Reverse Global Warming.