A Scenario of the Future (continued from the last writing)

‘Pretty boring stuff.’ I sighed. She shook her head, delicately putting down the spoon in the Noritake bowl, and smiled mysteriously, ‘since then I began to pay more attention to political news, particularly those of Asia Minor. The carnage in New York engendered from misunderstanding and conflicts between values. Perhaps to a more extent it was attributable to a conflict of interest. Do you believe in prophecies?’ She continued with an answer on my behalf, ‘I don’t think you do.’ She smiled again, and continued, ‘but you act like a prophet. You analyse the facts in the present and predict the future.’

I said, ‘the most distinguishable fact between a prophet and myself is that I do not predict futures. The results of my works are not predictions or projections. Rather they are coherent and credible alternative futures. I use them to challenge one’s assumptions and status quo, and test our plans. Such alternative future and the events occurring there can be understood very clearly before an event it says of happens and is falsifiable if it’s not turned out to be what it means. And I don’t say I predict the future so basically I am not a prophet. I just put forward a number of possibilities and options to deal with a particular possibility when it turns out. This works as well on a business basis as on an individual basis.’

‘Things fall apart: The Centre cannot hold; / Mere anarchy is loosed upon the world.’ Miss Aya smiled, ‘this is what Yeats said. Of course, he was not prophesising the WTC. But you know how events could be vaguely implied and how easy quasi-prophets can be verified and made believable. A lot of serious people predict futures of the place, but simply from a different starting point, for example, a full-scale nuclear attack.’

I guessed Miss Aya had brought along with her a pocket watch, which was manufactured more than 100 years ago.

‘Is this from Yamagata?’ I asked her, eying on the small slivers of beef in front of me.

Miss Aya looked at my plate, and smiled, ‘I ordered Omi for you. It’s tenderer, and of more distinguishable taste.’

‘No wonder.’ A spark just came onto me. ‘The meat is so tender.’