Unsticky Notes and Flying Cars

Future, the entity who shapes the future for all of us, was having a bit of a crisis. She was worried that the events she set in motion were either too predictable or too far-fetched to be believable. She wanted her creations to hit a sweet spot: predictable enough to ease our anxiety, yet spiked with enough unexpected surprises to ramp that anxiety right back up. To fix this, she hired a consultant: Clio, who happens to be my muse. Clio graciously accepted and dropped by my place to give me a heads-up.

"You should come observe how I work. It'll be good for your creative process," she said. "Let's go. There's no time like the present."

I was flattered to be invited to such an exclusive workshop. Soon, I found myself transported to a realm beyond our limited mortal world. The setting was a bit of an anticlimax: a nondescript conference room with a stark whiteboard and a long laminate table. Standing over a messy pile of papers were Clio and Future. Future was draped in her signature blinding, multicolored outfit, an explosion of neon fabrics that perfectly matched the chaotic streaks running through her hair. Behind her, looking over her shoulder, stood Clio. Dressed in the classical garb of a muse, she wore flowing, flower-white robes and a delicate woven garland resting upon her hair, looking utterly out of place against the modern office backdrop.

"So where shall we begin?" Clio asked.

"Well," Future said, "I was thinking of bringing some of my old ideas to life."

"Good. It's always smart for artists to revisit their sketches."

Future beamed. She loved being thought of as an artist rather than a cosmic entity trapped in the spacetime continuum, endlessly churning out destinies.

"So, I was thinking…,” Future said, "flying cars."

Wow, I thought. Flying cars. That would be amazing.

Clio was less enthusiastic. "Okay," she mused. "Maybe that could work. But it sounds terribly chaotic."

"Fine. How about time travel?"

"Time travel... hmmm." Clio stroked her chin. "That also feels a bit random. I suggest giving the future a clear shape—a human narrative, a bit of drama."

"Believe me, there'd be plenty of drama with everyone arguing with their former selves," I remarked.

"But it lacks structure," Clio countered. "There's no beginning or end, no rising tension—just raw action."

"Also, we could colonize Mars! But don't forget the Wi-Fi. Heck, let's colonize all the planets!"

"Well—" Clio tried to interject.

"Customized medication!" Future blurted out. "Based on DNA. Hardly any side effects. Or maybe more side effects. Interminable advertising disclaimers!"

"Okay—"

But Future was on a roll. "We could turn New Jersey into a garden. A real Garden State. Maybe invent new flowers. Garden hoses—electronic garden hoses! And human resources—we need way more HR departments! Silent telepathy, that could be huge. Sticky notes with stronger glue. Sticky notes with no glue... Unsticky notes—"

"Future, please!" Clio cut in.

Future stopped cold and stared at her.

"Those are all very... creative ideas," Clio said gently. "But as your muse-consultant, we need to hash this out properly. We need order and context so the future has an aesthetic—something pleasing to the senses."

Future offered only stony silence. These concepts were entirely foreign to her nature. "Pleasing to what senses now?"

"Like gardens! Yes, gardens are lovely. But we need to figure out how they come to be, the order in which they grow, who plants them, and what purpose they serve. You know, structural things."

Future let out a heavy sigh. "This isn't going to work. 'Pleasing the senses'? Es-the-ti-tics, whatever that is. It's a waste of time and makes no sense to me. I just do, and it becomes. That's it. I thought you could help me do more doing, but I guess what you do isn't doing at all. Gotta go."

In an instant, Future vanished.

Clio looked deflated. "I don't think she liked me," she confessed. "You know, Dante, Milton, and Dickens were always glad to see me."

"And so am I," I said.

"Aw, that's sweet, Robert," she said with a faint smile. "Especially since you need my help the most."

Coming from her, it sounded so nice that I couldn't even be offended, though it was a bit of a blow to my ego.

Once I was safely back in my own world, I realized how unnerving it was to spend actual time with Future. Despite Clio's best efforts, Future's gnat-like mind simply couldn't sit still. Devoid of any introspection, her thoughts darted from impulse to impulse in a frantic jumble. It would be dizzying enough to hold a conversation with a human like that, but Future actually instantiates her fleeting thoughts—filling our world with tailgating, erratic drivers and older and younger versions of ourselves at war. It was a sobering reminder that the future can never be tamed. It will always be scattered, unpredictable, and bewildering. So I try not to think about it. If I did, I'd never get out of bed in the morning.