Postcards from Earth 2013:
It's 2113 and winter is coming on, except where it's not. A warm spell has hung over most of North America for over a month, further drying the desert interior, while weeks worth of blizzards have rage across northern Europe, crippling travel and further crimping economic output for the year. The equatorial regions are hotter than ever. Advertisers have stopped running images of the North Pole Santa, and polar bears, as Arctic sea ice disappeared in 2045. Palm trees had started to appear on Cape Cod around 2060, but sincethen increasingly erratic weather, including a couple of record snowstorms and one mega-hurricane that overwashed large parts of the Cape and the islands, has killed those species off along with others that had been part of that landscape since before any humans had arrived.
Refugees from the Pacific Island nations, such as Kiribati, have been uneasily resettled in New Zealand, Australia, Japan, and Ecuador with varying levels of cultural and political strife. The famine refugees are proving harder to accommodate: they come in such numbers, into the relatively developed countries like South Africa and Nigeria from the dessicating interior nations like Botswana, Niger, and Central African Republic. They have come down from the drying areas of Central Asia into Iran, India, and China, adding to the political and economic instability in those mega-nations.
But in the U.S., it is the newer versions of the Okies of the 1930s that get the most attention. The Great Plains and the desert Southwest, from central and western Texas into southern California, had largely emptied out, but for some extremist groups, pouring millions of people into the coastal areas, where the storms of the previous 75 years had already made large areas unlivable. This refugee tide turned the formerly liberal states on the east and west coasts into police regimes, heavy on law and order and light on social services, under the hard-earned recognition that providing social benefits only encouraged "in-migrants" as they had come to be called. Fully legalized citizens, yes, but not welcome.
The Canadian government has become almost Russian in its xenophobia as outsiders salivated at its increasingly fertile and temperate land, too cold for all but the indigenous a century before, now seen as a refugee's promised land. But the Canadian economy is just as battered as others by drought, resource scarcity, and extreme weather that drove infrastructure costs sky-high, and made transportation unreliable. It doesn't have the resources to accommodate climate refugees any more than other developed countries. The indigenous peoples, normally gracious in welcoming strangers, have become hardened, insular, and increasingly well-armed.
Not as well-armed, however, as the security forces hired by the owners of apartment buildings in New York, Chicago, San Francisco, and the dozen other cities where people of means live in relative luxury. Nor as well-armed the gated mini-cities that studded the fringes of these megalopoli, using advanced hydroponics, additive manufacturing, and secure air shipping to meet most of their needs with strictly limited engagement outside of their walls.
Indeed, islands of comfort thrive among the chaos that characterizes most parts of the world. Certain valleys and other micro-geographies had learned to adapt, partly by exploiting the serendipity of their micro-climates, their resource bases, and their concentrations of information technology. However, the chaos in the surrounding seas of has grown worse in recent decades. Religious extremists and warlords rule large stretches of the environmentally-unsustainable desert regions, from the successors of Al Shabab in Africa to those of Al Queda in central Asia, to newer groups like the ultra-Mormon sects in the desert Southwest U.S. Unable to develop their resource-poor fiefdoms into nation states, they survive on a mix of subsistence agriculture, kidnapping and extortion, and cybercrime.
It's not all bleak. Resource scarcity-driven prices for basic materials and goods, and the breakdown of some aspects of the global economic system have forced waves of innovation in energy usage and supply, reuse and reconditioning of products and materials, and recycling/reuse of human, animal, and plant waste. The islands of comfort have come to depend on this new paradigm of low-to-no waste and a more ecosystem-based economic model for their relative prosperity, because they have become more and more limited to their local/regional ecosystems. In modernized versions of their indigenous forebears, these communities have learned to live with the limits of their earth-based systems.
Those regional limits have emerged because the global supereconomy that had emerged in the early 21st century, dominated by China, its Asian rim satellites, and the many countries whose resources and favor it had acquired, began to crumble in the 2040s. Nations from Costa Rica to Dominica to Sudan, that had gladly accepted Chinese investments in infrastructure in the 1990-2020 period, began to rebel after 2040 when the Chinese started calling in their chits and extracting resources in high volumes. Already stressed by worsening climate conditions and accompanying economic and political strife, these countries began to harden their trade barriers and their borders. The Chinese, whose military might could have enforced its agreements in 2020, by 2050 had suffered their own internal problems as the global supereconomy had stalled and its economic growth had stagnated. Unable to support its aging population let alone a global military presence, the Chinese like the other superpowers have had to trim their ambitions and seek to survive within their regional sphere of influence.
The other superpowers of the 21st century--the U.S. and Russia--have had their own versions of the Chinese problem set. Stagnant economies, internal migration and strife driven by climate extremes, and poisonous politics, have kept these former world powers much quieter outside their borders. The mainstays of U.S. and Russian economic power--oil and gas--had faded as economic weapons after 2075, when depletion of fields and disruption of ocean shipping began to cut export revenues significantly. European nations, having evolved the world's only workable regional forms of economic and political cooperation, have settled quietly into relative stability, though more and more of their resources are called upon to deal with the effects of climate changes, be they crippled floods, blizzards, or rising sea levels. The eastern edge of the EU, however, including the Baltic states, Belarus, Ukraine, Bulgaria, and Romania have seceded under Russian pressure. Caught in the vacuum between the EU and Russian, these nations have devolved into seas of chaos, becoming world centers of cybercrime and human trafficking.
One of the byproducts of this erosion of globalism has been a diminishing of militarism at a global scale. None of the major powers could afford it, and the shrinking of nations' spheres of influence has reduced political priorities for projecting force overseas. The early 21st-century U.S. strategy of being in a state of constant readiness to fight two regional conflicts anywhere in the world had shrunk to a strategy of border defense, anti-ballistic missile and related cyberdefense, plus a few divisions of crack special forces, based in the U.S. and a few forward outposts, ready to crush any perceived threats in the cradle. These forces, however, relied every more heavily on remote weaponry, using advanced drone systems coupled with enhanced surveillance methods that used new forms of biometrics to identify and target individuals within seconds.
Another, less grim byproduct of the breakdown of global systems has been the acceleration of psychological and spiritual evolution that became conscious in the late 20th century. This phenomenon has been limited mainly to the islanded communities that can afford the time, personal safety, and technology to support them. The crude pharmaceutical attempts to medicate the anxieties and other forms of mental unrest of the early 21st century had been declared a failure by 2050. Drugs were still used, but in a more microtargeted way, for neuroenhancement, mild sedation, and pleasure, with much reduced side effects. Beyond that, however, growing segments of the privileged populations have taken on evolution as a real and continuing inner process of advancing consciousness, far beyond the Darwinian theoretics of genetically-based natural selection.
This is not the "New Age" idealism of the late 20th century--it has become a survival skill, as suicide rates and other forms of psychic dysfunction had risen to such alarming levels by 2040 that the privileged classes began to realize that for humans to survive, they had to become much more tolerant of change, uncertainty and stress. Advanced forms of meditation, biofeedback, and integrative body work have emerged, producing people who are much more present in the moment, able to process information and emotional energy in new and integrative ways, and thus to move beyond the patterns of depression and anxiety that had emerged during the 20th century and reached crisis levels by the 2030s. These new generations, while not exactly blissful as their 20th century forebears had hoped, are nonetheless clear-eyed, active, and able to find pleasure in small and daily acts of living.
Data collected on the last two generations of the 21st century have begun to show that these advances in consciousness are being transmitted genetically, reinforcing hope (at least in the islanded communities) that humans might get through the worsening conditions they see around the planet. The contrast with the chaotic areas outside the islands, however, has grown more stark. Of the seven billion or so humans on the planet (the population had stabilized around this level after peaking at about 8 billion in 2050), it was estimated that two billion were doing OK-to-well in the islanded communities, another two billion were making do around the fringes of the islands, and the bottom two million were just surviving. Geneticists were beginning to speculate that within another two centuries, the accelerating evolutionary forces will have created two separate species. Attitudes are already beginning to shift, creating new forms of racial bias toward new classes of "untouchables."
What's least noticed among all these swirling developments is a growing if invisible web of interspecies communication. As more and more species experience the stresses of accelerated evolution and environmental deterioration, spontaneous channels have opened between humans and other mammals, plants and mammals, cetaceans and other marine species, and doubtless many others that have not been reported. Human-horse communication has largely shifted the relationship between these species, with horses changing from work animals to collaborators in evolution, helping humans in their new modes of body awareness, emotional balance, and intuitive learning.
These postcards do not yet reveal a clear pattern, but rather a swirling mix of energies and forms, somewhat like the situation that John Milton described in Pilgrim's Progress:
It's 2113 and winter is coming on, except where it's not. A warm spell has hung over most of North America for over a month, further drying the desert interior, while weeks worth of blizzards have rage across northern Europe, crippling travel and further crimping economic output for the year. The equatorial regions are hotter than ever. Advertisers have stopped running images of the North Pole Santa, and polar bears, as Arctic sea ice disappeared in 2045. Palm trees had started to appear on Cape Cod around 2060, but sincethen increasingly erratic weather, including a couple of record snowstorms and one mega-hurricane that overwashed large parts of the Cape and the islands, has killed those species off along with others that had been part of that landscape since before any humans had arrived.
Refugees from the Pacific Island nations, such as Kiribati, have been uneasily resettled in New Zealand, Australia, Japan, and Ecuador with varying levels of cultural and political strife. The famine refugees are proving harder to accommodate: they come in such numbers, into the relatively developed countries like South Africa and Nigeria from the dessicating interior nations like Botswana, Niger, and Central African Republic. They have come down from the drying areas of Central Asia into Iran, India, and China, adding to the political and economic instability in those mega-nations.
But in the U.S., it is the newer versions of the Okies of the 1930s that get the most attention. The Great Plains and the desert Southwest, from central and western Texas into southern California, had largely emptied out, but for some extremist groups, pouring millions of people into the coastal areas, where the storms of the previous 75 years had already made large areas unlivable. This refugee tide turned the formerly liberal states on the east and west coasts into police regimes, heavy on law and order and light on social services, under the hard-earned recognition that providing social benefits only encouraged "in-migrants" as they had come to be called. Fully legalized citizens, yes, but not welcome.
The Canadian government has become almost Russian in its xenophobia as outsiders salivated at its increasingly fertile and temperate land, too cold for all but the indigenous a century before, now seen as a refugee's promised land. But the Canadian economy is just as battered as others by drought, resource scarcity, and extreme weather that drove infrastructure costs sky-high, and made transportation unreliable. It doesn't have the resources to accommodate climate refugees any more than other developed countries. The indigenous peoples, normally gracious in welcoming strangers, have become hardened, insular, and increasingly well-armed.
Not as well-armed, however, as the security forces hired by the owners of apartment buildings in New York, Chicago, San Francisco, and the dozen other cities where people of means live in relative luxury. Nor as well-armed the gated mini-cities that studded the fringes of these megalopoli, using advanced hydroponics, additive manufacturing, and secure air shipping to meet most of their needs with strictly limited engagement outside of their walls.
Indeed, islands of comfort thrive among the chaos that characterizes most parts of the world. Certain valleys and other micro-geographies had learned to adapt, partly by exploiting the serendipity of their micro-climates, their resource bases, and their concentrations of information technology. However, the chaos in the surrounding seas of has grown worse in recent decades. Religious extremists and warlords rule large stretches of the environmentally-unsustainable desert regions, from the successors of Al Shabab in Africa to those of Al Queda in central Asia, to newer groups like the ultra-Mormon sects in the desert Southwest U.S. Unable to develop their resource-poor fiefdoms into nation states, they survive on a mix of subsistence agriculture, kidnapping and extortion, and cybercrime.
It's not all bleak. Resource scarcity-driven prices for basic materials and goods, and the breakdown of some aspects of the global economic system have forced waves of innovation in energy usage and supply, reuse and reconditioning of products and materials, and recycling/reuse of human, animal, and plant waste. The islands of comfort have come to depend on this new paradigm of low-to-no waste and a more ecosystem-based economic model for their relative prosperity, because they have become more and more limited to their local/regional ecosystems. In modernized versions of their indigenous forebears, these communities have learned to live with the limits of their earth-based systems.
Those regional limits have emerged because the global supereconomy that had emerged in the early 21st century, dominated by China, its Asian rim satellites, and the many countries whose resources and favor it had acquired, began to crumble in the 2040s. Nations from Costa Rica to Dominica to Sudan, that had gladly accepted Chinese investments in infrastructure in the 1990-2020 period, began to rebel after 2040 when the Chinese started calling in their chits and extracting resources in high volumes. Already stressed by worsening climate conditions and accompanying economic and political strife, these countries began to harden their trade barriers and their borders. The Chinese, whose military might could have enforced its agreements in 2020, by 2050 had suffered their own internal problems as the global supereconomy had stalled and its economic growth had stagnated. Unable to support its aging population let alone a global military presence, the Chinese like the other superpowers have had to trim their ambitions and seek to survive within their regional sphere of influence.
The other superpowers of the 21st century--the U.S. and Russia--have had their own versions of the Chinese problem set. Stagnant economies, internal migration and strife driven by climate extremes, and poisonous politics, have kept these former world powers much quieter outside their borders. The mainstays of U.S. and Russian economic power--oil and gas--had faded as economic weapons after 2075, when depletion of fields and disruption of ocean shipping began to cut export revenues significantly. European nations, having evolved the world's only workable regional forms of economic and political cooperation, have settled quietly into relative stability, though more and more of their resources are called upon to deal with the effects of climate changes, be they crippled floods, blizzards, or rising sea levels. The eastern edge of the EU, however, including the Baltic states, Belarus, Ukraine, Bulgaria, and Romania have seceded under Russian pressure. Caught in the vacuum between the EU and Russian, these nations have devolved into seas of chaos, becoming world centers of cybercrime and human trafficking.
One of the byproducts of this erosion of globalism has been a diminishing of militarism at a global scale. None of the major powers could afford it, and the shrinking of nations' spheres of influence has reduced political priorities for projecting force overseas. The early 21st-century U.S. strategy of being in a state of constant readiness to fight two regional conflicts anywhere in the world had shrunk to a strategy of border defense, anti-ballistic missile and related cyberdefense, plus a few divisions of crack special forces, based in the U.S. and a few forward outposts, ready to crush any perceived threats in the cradle. These forces, however, relied every more heavily on remote weaponry, using advanced drone systems coupled with enhanced surveillance methods that used new forms of biometrics to identify and target individuals within seconds.
Another, less grim byproduct of the breakdown of global systems has been the acceleration of psychological and spiritual evolution that became conscious in the late 20th century. This phenomenon has been limited mainly to the islanded communities that can afford the time, personal safety, and technology to support them. The crude pharmaceutical attempts to medicate the anxieties and other forms of mental unrest of the early 21st century had been declared a failure by 2050. Drugs were still used, but in a more microtargeted way, for neuroenhancement, mild sedation, and pleasure, with much reduced side effects. Beyond that, however, growing segments of the privileged populations have taken on evolution as a real and continuing inner process of advancing consciousness, far beyond the Darwinian theoretics of genetically-based natural selection.
This is not the "New Age" idealism of the late 20th century--it has become a survival skill, as suicide rates and other forms of psychic dysfunction had risen to such alarming levels by 2040 that the privileged classes began to realize that for humans to survive, they had to become much more tolerant of change, uncertainty and stress. Advanced forms of meditation, biofeedback, and integrative body work have emerged, producing people who are much more present in the moment, able to process information and emotional energy in new and integrative ways, and thus to move beyond the patterns of depression and anxiety that had emerged during the 20th century and reached crisis levels by the 2030s. These new generations, while not exactly blissful as their 20th century forebears had hoped, are nonetheless clear-eyed, active, and able to find pleasure in small and daily acts of living.
Data collected on the last two generations of the 21st century have begun to show that these advances in consciousness are being transmitted genetically, reinforcing hope (at least in the islanded communities) that humans might get through the worsening conditions they see around the planet. The contrast with the chaotic areas outside the islands, however, has grown more stark. Of the seven billion or so humans on the planet (the population had stabilized around this level after peaking at about 8 billion in 2050), it was estimated that two billion were doing OK-to-well in the islanded communities, another two billion were making do around the fringes of the islands, and the bottom two million were just surviving. Geneticists were beginning to speculate that within another two centuries, the accelerating evolutionary forces will have created two separate species. Attitudes are already beginning to shift, creating new forms of racial bias toward new classes of "untouchables."
What's least noticed among all these swirling developments is a growing if invisible web of interspecies communication. As more and more species experience the stresses of accelerated evolution and environmental deterioration, spontaneous channels have opened between humans and other mammals, plants and mammals, cetaceans and other marine species, and doubtless many others that have not been reported. Human-horse communication has largely shifted the relationship between these species, with horses changing from work animals to collaborators in evolution, helping humans in their new modes of body awareness, emotional balance, and intuitive learning.
These postcards do not yet reveal a clear pattern, but rather a swirling mix of energies and forms, somewhat like the situation that John Milton described in Pilgrim's Progress:
Into the wild abyss,
The womb of nature and perhaps her grave,
Of neither sea, nor shore, nor air, nor fire,
But all these in their pregnant causes mixed
Confusedly, and which thus must ever fight,
Unless the almighty maker them ordain
His dark materials to create more worlds,
Into this wild abyss the wary fiend
Stood on the brink of hell and looked a while,
Pondering his voyage...
The womb of nature and perhaps her grave,
Of neither sea, nor shore, nor air, nor fire,
But all these in their pregnant causes mixed
Confusedly, and which thus must ever fight,
Unless the almighty maker them ordain
His dark materials to create more worlds,
Into this wild abyss the wary fiend
Stood on the brink of hell and looked a while,
Pondering his voyage...