imagined futures

Photo by Junchen Zhou

it’s funny how your future changes
and you’re the last to find out about it
is fate so delicate that it must hinge
on everyone else’s decision but yours?
I ask around, I say, why are you all
so focused on the uncertainty?
we get stuck on the variables
when the constants matter more…
I still believe I can direct the course,
but maybe in a different way…
I might have to think outside the box…
true, you were born to be unique
you pride yourself on massive creativity
 — so don’t just sit there…
the bed has an impression of you
etched in sweat, and those dreams
that swirl around inside your head
well, they will get sucked right out
if you aren’t careful…
we all have a tendency to get a little
obsessed with the idea of watching
a playback of our own dreams
on screens like television…
what does it all mean?
are those hopes, fears,
or fragments of forgotten memories?
it comes down to this:
if you know exactly what you want to do
then no one can stop you!
it’s those minor bits of uncertainty
that tend to make life a little murky
but take comfort, take solace
the present will look after itself
but it is our duty to realize the future
with our imagination

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Garbage Notes:

This poem is about fate and free will and the indeterminacy of future events. But it’s also about how we approach that uncertainty. Whether we cling hard to our own delusions of control. Or whether we find solace in the fact that whatever might happen to us, we’ll find a way to adapt and adjust.

I must have been in one of my Lost summer re-watch binges when I wrote this. The line about constants and variables seems like almost directly lifted from the show. I’ve talked in other posts about my affinity for the character of Desmond Hume, and how his story arc is so philosophically interesting and emotionally resonant.

I get asked a lot about free will. I don’t know if it’s because I’m a sci fi writer or if it’s because I used to know a few things about psychology and the brain. But whatever the reason, I’m usually at a loss as to what to say.

Sometimes I say, yes, I totally believe in free will. Other times, I think, you know what, does it even matter? It’s not like we can act as if we don’t have it. We can tell ourselves over and over that personal choices don’t matter. But they still feel like they do. And sometimes I think it’s that subjective feeling that matters more than any bit of empirical evidence that tries to explain it away.

I do know that we as humans, we’re quite good at imagining different potential futures. Planning and thinking about the future in both hyper-specific and nebulously abstract ways is kind of our thing. That damn prefrontal cortex. If it’s good for anything, it’s planning. But I think what gets lost in the beauty of planning is the spontaneous capacity for imagination that underpins it. And this imagination relies heavily on pure creativity.

So if you can have a panic attack over all the bad things that might happen to you, that means you’re also more than capable of imagining all the good things that can happen to you as well.

Maybe free will is all about choosing whether to spend your precious and evaporating present tense time catastrophizing endless doomsday scenarios or instead fantasizing about all the magical ways things can possibly go right for a change.

The first option might be more realistic, given the current state of the world. But the second option is more fun, and well, not entirely impossible. And I’d prefer to do something fun for a change.

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Franco Amati 2026

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