The Institute of the Future

I went to visit the institute of the future, but it was closed. How could the future be closed? The future will be open, I was told. And it will be open to everyone. I have no idea what that means. I don’t worry about it.

I worry about other things.

Have you done something with your hair?’ We were sitting in the kitchen of the little house where the future once lived, drinking coffee. ‘No, why?’ ‘It looks different.’ ‘I haven’t done anything with it.’ ‘It looks different. Curlier.’ ‘No, I haven’t done anything with it.’ ‘You look good.’ It was the first time he’d said anything like that to me. But he didn’t look at me when he said it. ‘You look good too.’ He laughed, but he didn’t look at me.

‘Are you still working at the petrol station?’

‘Yes.’

‘And what do you do when you’re not working?’

‘I’m writing a book.’

‘A book?’

‘Yes. A book.’

‘What kind of book?’

‘A book about what happens in the future.

“What happens in the future?’

‘I don’t know. That’s why I’m writing the book.’

‘Have you written anything yet?’

‘Not yet.’

‘Why are you writing a book about the future if you don’t know what happens in the future?’

‘Because I want to find out what happens in the future. And I don’t know how else to do that.’

‘You could just go there.’

‘To the future? You can’t just go there. You can’t just walk into the future. You have to write about it.’

‘Why?’

‘Because that’s how you get there.’

‘How do you get there?’

‘By writing.’

‘Writing?’

‘Yes, writing.’

‘Is that all you do? Just write?’

‘That’s all I do.’

‘What about eating and sleeping and things like that?’

‘I do those as well.’

‘What else do you do?’

‘I go for walks.’

‘What kind of walks?’

‘Walks through the woods. Through the mountains. Through the wilderness. I walk all over the country.’

‘What for?’

‘To think.’

‘What about?’

‘The future.’

‘What do you think about the future?

‘I think about what happens in the future.’

‘What happens in the future?’

‘I don’t know. That’s what I’m thinking about.’

‘You haven’t written anything yet?

‘No.’

‘What’s it going to be called?’

‘I haven’t decided yet.’

‘How long is it going to be?’

‘I don’t know.’

‘Are you going to write it in one book?

‘I think so.’

We sat in silence. I drank my coffee. He drank his. He looked at me. He looked at his coffee.

‘Have you done something with your hair?’

‘No, why?’

‘It looks different.’

‘I haven’t done anything with it.’