I am relaxing with my husband and friends at an outdoor cafe in Tel Aviv; we are celebrating our anniversary. It is hot, but the breeze off the Mediterranean is keeping us refreshed. We lift our glasses of water in a toast: "L'chaim!! (the traditional Hebrew toast, "to life!), L'mayim!!! ("to water")." And we burst out laughing at the silly rhyme that represents our past good fortune, and our greatest ongoing challenge.

Years ago, I had become interested in the future of water on our planet. I was living in California, which had been in a drought for years. The New York Times was still in print then, and one day I saw this map that depicted how the fastest-growing populations in the world were in the world's driest areas. Northern Africa and the Middle East were identified as places where populations were expanding rapidly while the ability to grow food was decreasing, with fresh water already in short supply.

I remember thinking to myself then, "It's too bad Israel is such a piranha in that part of the world. I know that it is developing and refining desalination and clean water technologies that could really help a lot of other countries. If only its neighbours weren't so intent on driving Israel into the very sea that could save them!" To me, one of the miracles of Israel's existence had always been the country's agricultural success--its ability to grow an abundance of produce in arid conditions.

When I met my husband, David, in 2009, he was about to invest in an Israeli company called Kinrot Incubator, which was dedicated to water technologies and the preservation of water. David was a serial entrepreneur who moved comfortably back and forth between Silicon Valley and Silicon Wadi, as Israel's high tech world was sometimes called. The rest, as they say, is history.

Today, we sit enjoying our view of the Mediterranean and a bounty of food grown by cutting-edge water reclamation and irrigation technology that we have helped to develop over the past ten years. In a shifting dynamic that has not always been easy, Israel's former enemies have become its customers and business partners. And we continue to look for new ways to make a difference when it comes to addressing the world's water needs.

Alex F writes: It's harvest time. Rachel and I thought we'd be living in a bigger place by now, but after the property markets seized up, it made more sense to stay where we were. We converted the garage into a family room and dug out a nursery underneath. We're the lucky ones - we've got enough garden to subsist effectively. Mum and Dad live in the spare room. They were one of the millions who saw their pensions disappear and had to sell their property at a fraction of it's value in the 2013 Compulsory House Purchase Act. They had nowhere else to go. It's cramped but it works our pretty well - we get childcare and a lot of help with the vegetables, and there's always someone around to attend Residents' Agriculture Meetings if we're out. Our estate is third in the North London League for crop surpluses this year - we saved up to buy a new waste digester and our neighbour Masoud is a master at irrigation. It's strange to think that just ten years ago we didn't know our neighbours. Now we all work together at our new part-time job - growing enough food to survive.

It's a time of plenty in the Millfleet household - the tomatoes have ripened, there are potatoes in abundance, we're salting, preserving and curing as fast as we can. Mum has rustled up a huge frittata which we devour with homebaked bread and some of Masoud's wine. It's a family feast.

Rachel writes: Didn't eat dinner tonight; lifelong, habitual lack of appetite comes in
handy once again. It's partially the medication. Messengers don't get
insurance, even the university educated ones, so medication is all out of
pocket. At least messengering pays comparatively well and doesn't ask a
lot of background questions-just get 'it' there. Apropos in mob city.
Chicago isn't as 'sick' as some other cities and we were already national
leaders in crime so we took the increase in stride. Adverse conditions?
No problem. Adapt, adopt, flee. Nomadicism is in my blood.

I almost feel guilty knowing my medication, all psychological, has gone
down in price as medication for physiological aliments has skyrocketed.
The trend as late as 5 or 6 years ago was to dose up any and everyone
showing the slightest hint of depression (aka insurance coverage). Now no
one who isn't actually crazy can afford it. Those who are crazy, but
can't afford it, are well screwed.

Promised to meet a friend for a 'meal' tomorrow, some sort of
protein/calcium supplement drink and then as much vodka as we can handle.
You know, to cancel out the potential benefits of our 'meal.' Probably at
the home of an immigrant friend: safer and more intimate than the bars
plus they always give me real sweets. I can't find any good sweets now;
with the trouble in Israel people aren't real friendly with Jews (not that
they ever were) and my relatives bakery and deli have closed. At least as
a halfie I can pass.

When I was in university I had a feeling I would die young. Youngish.
Around 40. I didn't tell many people that, they were already convinced I
was suicidal, though I kept telling them I didn't have the attention span
for it (ADD cancels out suicidal feelings of Major Depression? Sweet,
still avoid bridges though). I'm 29 now so in 23 years (the
'coincidental' magic number) I'll be 42. Dead at the meaning of life. My
friend's a mathematician, and since everything revolves around numbers now
he'll be paying tomorrow. Psychology and art don't pay and he knows it.
Maybe he was right about the 'soft' sciences. I'm lonely.

Take the amphetamines before work tomorrow and the stimulants after so I
won't be tired nor completely wired. Agreed to do some survey work for a
private client friday, retouched images and film due to the 'zine next
monday, tutoring tuesday. Going to try and slay insomnia with good old
fashioned literature now; I'm drowning in musty old books, I just can't
read off a screen. If that doesn't work, and it usually doesn't, I'll
just draw until I pass out on the table.

MKH writes: The food shortages... sucked. I mean, we're like the richest country in the world, and suddenly, bam! Kids who can't find Florida on a map suddenly figure out where all their fruit comes from. I guess I had it easy. We lived on a "hobby farm" when I was younger, so we knew how things went. You see outside there? Yeah, corner lots are great. The short plants are potatoes--hey, we're Irish--and the switchgrass is for rotation, plus we feed it to the goats. We've got some fruit and stuff too, but that's all fenced off... neighbor kids get tired of their own stuff, I guess. Yeah, we've got a good set-up here. I mean, it's not like we're self-sufficient, but... you can get stuff from the neighbors, you know? Here in the northwest people were pretty quick to turn lawns into "war gardens", and you can buy pretty much whatever you need. Collapse of industry? Please. Yeah, I won't deny that east of the mountains they've been having trouble--all those migrant workers feel like natives now--but land's land, you know? As far as this local-economy thing goes, sure, the semi-urban spots are nice, but the dirt that was good for apples will still be good for apples. We just can't afford to ship them all over. I heard that on the Torling farms--you know, the riots were in the news, the workers couldn't feed themselves--they just took over. Split up all the land. Now they're looking for work and living off apples, apples, and whatever you can plant between apple trees. Sounds about right to me. It's kind of funny, you know, how all of these privileged white people start looking to the working class and the chicanos for help. Knowledge workers my ass, they can't even figure out how to stick seeds in the ground on their own. You know online, though, right? I mean, I heard that it's not so big back east, but.... Daisyslist.org is where you go when things get tight. Everything's there. Daisy... Gutierrez? Some second-generation immigrant software worker chick started it. Fantastic. Internet's cheaper than gas... everything's mapped out so you can comp prices and distance, all right there. People grow a little extra, have something to sell... I mean, I'm a woman of simple tastes, but sometimes you don't want to churn the bloody butter yourself. They don't, I mean--I do it every day. So they go online and they see--"Hey, dairy and stuff, down the street!" I think the furthest anyone ever came was from Centralia up north. The kid was lactose intolerant or something, and his mom wanted him to know what all this stuff tasted like, so they had to find someone with goats, and it turned out I was closest. Geez. Like, what, fifteen years in and we're already getting nostalgic? It's just calories, calories and nutrition. Oh, yeah, you gotta be careful. I know people who try to live just off their own stuff, end up with scurvy. That's on Daisyslist too, you know--all of the instructions on how to set up, some warnings and stuff. Mostly people like me who put it up there. I think this is really what makes the difference--it's all still money. You drive through one of the Daisyslist neighborhoods, and it's like you're not in Kansas anymore--or you are in Kansas--whatever. But these people, we're just normal people, you know? Like my grandparents did back in the war. I'm a bit more hard core than most, but I still only spend maybe two, three hours a day on it. And people still buy real food--you know, processed food--all the time, if they want it. It's just money. With the droughts, and biofuels, the ReDS zones, and the costs to transport... it's just cheaper to grow your own now, even with the time expenditure. Not like we're going back to some Indian barter system.
No, I'm doing all right. We'll pull through.

Patrick writes: Tired. Long day. My favorite part of late summer...vine ripened tomatoes
from the garden along with some fresh basil, a little fresh garlic, sea
salt, and a touch of old wine turned vinegar. How great the weather is
in late September here, the first break from the 12 weeks of oppressive
North Carolina heat. Hurricane Sam made a mess of the yard, but somehow
the garden survived. When Booker and Sofia cleaned up the fallen
branches the tomatoes and strings they set up were all intact. My
teenagers are so damn proud of what they've grown and Janet and I are
too. Proud rents. They did it all, from compost to fruit. And these
are perfectly delicious. How a tropical system sucks away the summer
humidity. It's nice to be able to spend time outside again, particularly
for Sofia and I. Tired of this luggage someone called "respiratory
distress," distress? Asthma. that drug in 2005 that left me nearly dead
and with a permanent case of severe asthma. But Sofia? Where'd she get
it? Was all that outdoors play at the Waldorf School actually bad for
her? I've done all the literature mining and deduction and re-mining
and modeling on asthma anyone could do; hell, I'm lucky to have ever
gotten some Brazilian investors to finally build this beast to pull it
off. Lots of suggestions of course, none good at all, none coming out
with any explanatory power. My years at Duke, the 09 crash, the five
year economic gutter. Reform came much too late. Thank god Janet was in
health care, about the only job to be had, that nursing shortage seemed
to just about stick around the whole time. Funny. Me, trading labor for
a doctorate, no salaries at the university, just medical care, but I
held onto my most precious inventions instead of building them out at
work. Amazing no one else thought of these things that whole time. Well
guess no one ever did go broke underestimating the intelligence of the
American people. But this system works now, fifteen years after
designing it, just so amazing I can't believe it is real. How slow
we've become for technological advance, all that money pumped into the
richest 100 US pockets as a golden parachute before the collapse. Almost
a trillion dollars. And then suddenly those dollars were worthless;
they dumped those dollars for gold, swiss francs. They knew it was
coming and they ran for the gold-lines hills. So did I; luckily I
dumped and moved for materials and us-independent currencies in 08. So
the rest of us be damned. We didn't need those jerks anyway; they were
such greedy laggards, trying to rerun another energy bubble before they
went broke. We told everyone in 2008 that the Chinese had already
eclipsed US in terms of technological policy and achievement, how all
those citations were lagging indicators, lagging behind the truth of the
matter, that it was writ large through the whole global research corpus.
All those blank stares. Truth somehow survived, even in our simulators.
You can't sim these tomatoes, that's for sure. The sim never got it
quite right, never does, never can. The future is part what you make it,
obviously, part how you're making it, and always visible from the gut,
but only if you consume as much information as possible and internalize
it, digest it quietly, beat it around, rearrange it. It just pops out.
I remember just before my brother died he said, "time doesn't exist."
He was the best economic forecaster I ever did see. "It's already
happened." Tomorrow I gotta give another talk about our cognitive
attachment to apocalypse again, blah blah, how it's fixed to any model
using language, how apocalypse is a fancy word for denying the
realization we're all going to die, and most likely, quite alone.
Fearing the apocalypse, fearing an early death. It's quite reasonable as
a fear, frankly, but still, in some ways, just another way to separate
people from what few resources they have. Damn good tomatoes. At this
point, I don't care about the soil contamination warning. I'll be
damned, I am damned, I love these tomatoes. I'm 48 now, and after this
last decade, 50 is the new 80, so I'm feeling pretty good that we made
it this far. The end. It's after the end of the world, and these are
damned good tomatoes.

Frederic writes: It's the summer of 2019. You're you, but you're a decade older. Where are you having dinner, what are you eating, what are you thinking or talking about?

(and check out other players' dinner stories in the comments of our Superstruct announcement! http://www.iftf.org/node/2098)

I am dinning with my wife… we manage to find Panga fish in the market, it is expensive but it grows in water and have the guaranty of non-cancer additives.

she’s smiling. I manage to find some nuts and apples for dessert while spending the week end in the countryside. I still know the places to find natural food…-lucky we are-

We still live in Normandy and close to the sea.. nice and quiet place.. the electricity is cheap here thanks to the law for solar panels… but for transport..

The web wall is currently showing images of the north pole conflict: the Russian government has threatened USA for the third time; petrol war again and again…

Hopefully Europe union is upon to leave the petrol energy … nuclear plants and alcohol for transport... My wife is smiling again as they show the birth of a lion cub in a Spanish zoo

–surprising-

Our son work in Paris, he is chemist. He is working in the GLR (Global Life Research) program – we are proud of him- He has called us last week, keep telling us that they advanced on their work.

Their theory to explain why the sterility began to touch all the species five year ago is about to be reveal to the public. A mix between air pollution and rivers infected with medicine recharges. Modification of the seaweeds, fishes, birds … and humans beings.

“ It’s a wonderful world” someone said… my neighbor keep saying it is a divine revenge... funny isn’t it?

My wife has found a worm in the apple.

Everything is not over,

what do you think honey?

Liz writes:

Superstruck!

"You came all the way from Philly on that rickety old bike—amazing! Run into any trouble? I've heard the people who farm the medians on I-95 rough up any strangers they can catch. Oh, you were too quick for 'em. Glad to hear it.

Care to stay for dinner? I've got chipmunk stew, poke salad and raspberries. Nothing like a good old Virginia chipmunk. Of course it's not like the old days when I could just run down to the store and buy dinner ready-made. I guess you're too young to remember much about grocery stores.

What happened?! Only the biggest land grab in the history of the world and nobody told you!

I always thought the Republicans would do it, but it turned out to be the space aliens.

Those rheumy-eyed aliens wanted to take over the earth, but they'd watched enough Star Trek episodes to know that we Earthlings are adaptable and wily. Well, they came up with a plan that enabled them to use those very qualities—adaptability and wiliness against us.

In those days, everybody was playing games all the time. No. Not like checkers. Computer games. You've heard of computers, haven't you? Anyway, there were these games and the computers were all interconnected so that you could play against people who lived anywhere, even on the other side of the world, if you wanted to. They called that global playing field "cyberspace."

You couldn't see the person you were playing against, so the aliens pretended to be people who'd invented a special game that was designed to save the planet. They'd put sections of their master plan for conquering the earth—plagues, economic collapse, food shortages, energy shortages—online and ask people to find solutions to the problems. Once people submitted their solutions, the aliens would plug up the flaws in their strategy and come up with a scourge twice as nasty.

This went on for quite a while, but finally people ran out of solutions. When the last gamer had admitted defeat, all the computer screens in the world showed the following message:

'Greeting Earthlings,

We are aliens from a galaxy far, far away and if you do not surrender to us instantly, you and your planet are toast.

Have a nice day."

P.S. Jane writes: Liz, I promise we're humans ^_^

Lisa writes: I'm sharing my kitchen with my friends. Over time we've decided that the
safest place for us to eat is in our own homes. Together we've found and
shared grass-fed beef, mercury-free fish, and nutrient rich fruits and
vegetables. On occasion we've made butter and cheese, just for fun, but most
of the time we just get together to catch up as friends and feed our
families healthy food. The Slow Food movement in 2005 was just the
beginning. Fast food and fast casual restaurants have all but disappeared
from our neighborhood. Supermarkets have returned to just "market" size, and
most of the grocers share their space on the weekend with "craft" farmers
like my friends and I.

Our dinner conversations are lively and multifaceted. We're each an "expert"
in something and we use the time to consult and share with each other. We've
got an expert each in politics, health, business, economics, and the arts,
and whenever we. The national press has changed, and rather than combing
through ten similar news channels, there's now one of "each" leading topical
news, and balanced by commentary from other pubs.

But hey I've always been a big fan of entertainment, so I don't imagine my
life being so cerebral all the time! I can indulge in my love of film, food,
and home décor by "traveling" the world from my home. What GoogleEarth built
way back when is now real time, and I can "talk" to my "travel docent" as
she shows me whatever I want, whenever I want. I've "visited" vineyards and
learned from vintners, "shopped" at the greatest food halls, and "studied"
rug weaving from Pakistani craftsmen.

Bill M. writes: Three friends and I are eating at our favorite vegetarian restaurant,
The Rising Tide built on the new floating platform on the New
Embarcadero in San Francisco, the water level is several feet higher
than it used to be, hell at least a foot higher than last year alone.
Much of the old Embarcadero is in danger of becoming unstable within
three years, and the city council was thinking ahead.

We're talking about the Gilroy tissue farms, where in vitro meat is
now grown, right alongside the garlic. Me, still a veggie purist--but
everybody else seems pretty excited about the dozen new varieties of
NuFish, which has fueled a comeback in Sushi bars--feels creepy to
me, but have to admit its a good thing ecologically...

Samantha writes: We had a bit of a dinner party tonight. Nothing special, just the usual suspects. It was a bit of an event, though, because it’s the first time we’ve made a proper dinner party type meal with all our own produce. Impressive, no?
We’ve come a long way. God, I remember when we first got the allotment. The brambles were over my head and it took a while to clear, and that first year all we managed were a ton of potatoes and a batch of onions. The bastard slugs ate my beans. Cut to ten years later and we’ve got three plots, growing enough stuff to actually feed us. Proper Tom and Barbara style.
We even had chicken tonight. I couldn’t bring myself to kill it, so my bigdamnhero stepped into the fray. I’ve got to say, the bird was good. They don’t have as much room to move as we’d like, but it’s enough to call them free range, just about.
I did a butternut squash soup to start - the squashes are a pain to grow, with all the water they need, but they’re lovely and sweet. Then the chicken, roasted with some of the wild garlic I found up on the Downs and brought back to the east plot. It’s really good. Not quite like cultivated garlic, but tasty. With the garlic and some rosemary (out of the garden, not the allotment). We had roast tatties and root veg on the side. And some nice green beans - the bloody slugs don’t get them any more. And then a berry compote and home made ice cream for afters. Ok, so I cheated slightly on the ice cream - we don’t exactly have the space for a cow, so I bought the milk. Everything else was grown with our own little, hands, though.
The wine wasn’t. I’ve never managed to get grapes growing properly, but I’ve found a nice little Sussex vintner who does a good drop. We finished off with a little of my homebrewed blackberry brandy, which was pretty damn good.
Good food, good company, and with everything being from the plots it got us talking about the old chestnut again. Self-sufficiency. We’ve being talking about it on and off for years - ever since Mongoose and I got the first allotment, really. We weren’t exactly going to live on the potatoes and onions we were growing back then, but I’ve always sort of loved the idea of just setting up a Pacific Dome in some secluded spot up on the downs with a sea view. A couple of wind turbines and maybe some solar panels to power it, so I wouldn’t have to worry about the power grid or the insane costs of buying electricity. A nice big veg plot, maybe with a greenhouse or two. Fresh, organic veg right on my doorstep. It’d take a lot of work, of course, but just think of it.
The simple life.
Tom and Barbara style. Except that I’m more Margo.
Mongoose would still be up for it, I think, and could probably twist Mr Mongoose’s arm. She was always organic this and food miles that. Still, even ten years on, I guess it’s mostly a pipe dream. I mean, what am I going to do, drop my life in town and just go off to live in the wilds. Can you get broadband in the wilds?

mdrevon writes: I'm 33 years old, I've been working for 5 years in an oil company and
starting a new company specialised in geologic storage of CO2.
I'm having dinner home in a high density building. I'm having a vegetable
soup with cream cheese and some bread and huge home-made "tarte tatin".
I'm with my wife and our two children and we are thinking about her new
project on the re-urbanisation of the Paris northen neighbourhoud.

Mike K. writes: We are eating a meal of food prepared from our garden and our school community. In 2013, as Organic food became a memory with the massive distribution of seeds to the population, a small group of parents in the East Bay closed the road at our school and started full time gardening. Now, there is no in, or out on campus except for children walking in the gate, and parents who contribute their own time to grow the gardens. We thrive in our small community, but many nights, like tonight, we realize that our organic heirloom tomatoes may be one of the last on earth. We dry and share seeds, and sing our song "Hands Together, Hands Apart, Hands Together We're Ready To Start. Earth, who gives to us this Food, Sun, who Makes it Ripe and Good. Dear Earth, Dear Sun, By You We Live, Our Loving Thanks to You We Give"

May our community flourish, and our heirloom live on.

--Mike

Rachel writes: Didn't eat dinner tonight; lifelong, habitual lack of appetite comes in
handy once again. It's partially the medication. Messengers don't get
insurance, even the university educated ones, so medication is all out of
pocket. At least messengering pays comparatively well and doesn't ask a
lot of background questions-just get 'it' there. Apropos in mob city.
Chicago isn't as 'sick' as some other cities and we were already national
leaders in crime so we took the increase in stride. Adverse conditions?
No problem. Adapt, adopt, flee. Nomadicism is in my blood.

I almost feel guilty knowing my medication, all psychological, has gone
down in price as medication for physiological aliments has skyrocketed.
The trend as late as 5 or 6 years ago was to dose up any and everyone
showing the slightest hint of depression (aka insurance coverage). Now no
one who isn't actually crazy can afford it. Those who are crazy, but
can't afford it, are well screwed.

Promised to meet a friend for a 'meal' tomorrow, some sort of
protein/calcium supplement drink and then as much vodka as we can handle.
You know, to cancel out the potential benefits of our 'meal.' Probably at
the home of an immigrant friend: safer and more intimate than the bars
plus they always give me real sweets. I can't find any good sweets now;
with the trouble in Israel people aren't real friendly with Jews (not that
they ever were) and my relatives bakery and deli have closed. At least as
a halfie I can pass.

When I was in university I had a feeling I would die young. Youngish.
Around 40. I didn't tell many people that, they were already convinced I
was suicidal, though I kept telling them I didn't have the attention span
for it (ADD cancels out suicidal feelings of Major Depression? Sweet,
still avoid bridges though). I'm 29 now so in 23 years (the
'coincidental' magic number) I'll be 42. Dead at the meaning of life. My
friend's a mathematician, and since everything revolves around numbers now
he'll be paying tomorrow. Psychology and art don't pay and he knows it.
Maybe he was right about the 'soft' sciences. I'm lonely.

Take the amphetamines before work tomorrow and the stimulants after so I
won't be tired nor completely wired. Agreed to do some survey work for a
private client friday, retouched images and film due to the 'zine next
monday, tutoring tuesday. Going to try and slay insomnia with good old
fashioned literature now; I'm drowning in musty old books, I just can't
read off a screen. If that doesn't work, and it usually doesn't, I'll
just draw until I pass out on the table.

Michael writes: I will be eating at some of the most prominent infusion restaurants
across the east coast of the united states, thinking about the
steadily rising coastline that's now covering the house I used to live
in on the water in Virginia Beach. It's a good thing the automobile
technology changed so fast and for the better. There are always side
effects, though. The speed limit is 45 since none of the cars
developed can sustain a higher speed than that for more than a couple
years.

David B. writes: I’m currently on the deck of the Epicurus, a pirate rigged frigate commended by a group of oil raiders.

After the defeat of the renewable energy accord three years ago I dropped out of graduate school to look into the

causes of what GEAS terms “Super-Threats.” I ran into these pirates when they raided an abandoned oil rig I had

been examining. Deciding that joining up was better than being shot in the head I have been a member of the crew

for almost 2 years. I’m eating a fantastic dinner of baked fish and seaweed. These pirates don’t worry about the food

shortage since they can find food right underneath themselves most of the time. I don’t agree with what these men do

to aggravate the energy crisis, but they don’t have to worry about ReDS or other illnesses because they live in the middle

of the ocean, they have food because they live in the middle of the ocean, they generally have enough fuel and know how

to get more, and they have one of the most steady jobs on the planet given the unemployment rate. Maybe these guys are

onto something.

DanielAri writes: Microwave TVP (textured vegetable protein) lasagna, spinach flavored,
is hardly appetizing, especially when eaten at a desk in front of a
computer, but it was in the freezer at the office, and I am not able
to go home yet for whatever my wife has made of our home-grown
vegetables and stewed beans. She's an amazing cook, as good now with
next to nothing as she ever was with so many choices at our fingertips.
All of our clients get more and more anxious as the months and years
go by. The remaining ones dig in their heels, demanding the we, and
all their vendors, push harder and harder. As an agency, we deliver
and increasingly better "best." And until the small circle of
families with which I live can achieve a sustainable level of food
production for ourselves with, we pray, a little bit of surplus to
trade, sell and share, I must continue to dig in my heels, too. It's
not just my wife and daughter who depend on my income now. There are
fifteen of us, and we all need each other.

Storm writes: My Dear,
They say that heat is a state of mind. HA! They lost their collective minds when they stated that. As I make my way out the door to the coolest place, as it is every night, sanctuary is the porch. The breeze, while mild from the stir of the overhead wind turbines, is still better than being caught inside. Even the breeze hums with the vibrating sound of the oblong blades cutting through the air, just lazily strolling in their circular path, around.. and around. It's almost hypnotic. We're sheltered here, but not for much longer it seems from what they town folks say. Dinner is light tonight, a few fire baked potatoes pulled from the ground along with some of the last of the fall harvest of the tomatoes. A light smile as I look over the mixture, remember when the tomatoes would have been long gone, but the heat keeps them alive so much later into the year now. No meat tonight, as it was not the best. Even the scent of it was bad, turned my stomach, when we had gone to the food market earlier. Light snort of amusement, having been a carnivore so much of my life, it was odd not to have it as part of the daily life any longer. Brief smile at the thought and steady picks my way through the food, each eaten carefully to savor each moment of it. Once again the turbines catch my attention, looking back to them, a thought occurs. What happened to the stars, I remember them so well, the sky full of them. Now the lights from the surrounding energy towers block them. We're lucky to see the moon late in the evening. It's almost a pale dawn well into the night now, the orange glow of the lights, keeping the low flying planes from running into them. How could they miss them?! With a light sigh, the fork is laid to rest on the plate, another evening comes to a close . Darkness is closing in on the woods, and with restrictions on the electric usage, only the glow of the lone computer keeps it at bay inside. Tomorrow still holds new adventures, I still look forward to the coming of the dawn - and the hope, that things will come out right in the end. Good night my dear, don't stay up too late.

Ariel writes: I'm in San Francisco having a few friends over for dinner. I've made chicken tortilla soup and I'm wondering to myself if I should have children. I also wonder when I'll have time to go visit my family.

Angela writes: 9/22/2019: Eating Dinner. At work; again. 10 years ago I’d be pissed having to work this many hours, but with the cost of energy these days, every hour that I’m here puts my energy needs on the companies dime. Better them pay for the lights and computers than me.

Today’s dinner, a thick stew of zucchini and herbs. Normally I’d prefer my vegetables gently sauteed with onion, but with my irradiator broken I had to pressure cook the stew the for 3 hours to ensure the last fungus strain has been thoroughly killed. The favor is still good even if the texture resembles slimy oatmeal. The ravenous superthreat hasn’t hit too bad yet because I can still grow more zucchini than they could ever want.

Andrew writes: The television was blaring. The superthreat information just kept
flowing in. ReADs, Poverty, Power struggles, outlaws.... things
weren't this bad a decade ago.

I was eating a bowl of instant noodles. As a neurocomputorologist, I
listened in on the reports. GEAS was printing out information..
well... storing them on the Net like a guy on steroids.

Things were different a long time ago. Very different. Things were
very bad right now.

Marsy writes: At home with my family eating boiled vegetables. We are talking loudly lamenting the sad state of the world. Our topics include: air filtration systems, the poisonous standard of cleanliness in restaurants, everyone between 7 and 25 being under the influence of drugs to the point of being dangerous, many over the age of 25 are perma-stoned, how we wish that instead of a constant decline of standards society had asked more of its citizens instead of less and less and less until there were no standards left, it is now non-pc to say hello, say please or thank you, open a door, hold and elevator, smile, look pretty, or talk while eating a meal. There is no dating, marriage, or families - except with really old fashioned people who get overlooked for jobs, promotions, apartments, etc. The world is running rampant with disease, 50% of the world's population has AIDS, and is still putting on fundraisers for pharmaceutical companies to have more money to make expensive drugs to fight disease - but nobody speaks out about preventing disease in the first place through high moral standards, having a happy heart, keeping things clean, having love in your life, eating well, being active. I feel pretty exhausted after talking, I know that the solution is coming, and I will not give up, but it feels like a lot to sort out when I feel so tired.

Brad writes: I'm on the back deck grilling some syntha-steaks (made of soy and eggplant) for myself, my wife, Gayle, and our 10 year old son, Simon. Gayle just returned from the store, where she spent $257 for a week's supply of groceries. She also filled up our Honda Civic with gas, and it cost her $85. I know I shouldn't be surprised about the continually rising cost of gasoline, but it always bothers me that the government promised to solve this gas crisis nearly 10 years ago, yet we're still in the same situation. After McCain became president in 2009, we thought about moving. Then, after he passed away just months after he was elected and Palin took over the presidency, we thought about sitting in the garage with the car running. But the past two years, we've enjoyed some signs of hope. President Obama's nearly 60, but he's still able to connect with young America. I'm just glad he didn't give up after losing to McCain in 2009 and Palin in 2013. On another note, my son just remarked how he can't believe it's 2019 and we still don't have personal jet packs or teleporters. I told him we should hope for an end to the American occupancy of Iraq, which has been ongoing for more than 15 years now, before we focus on jet packs.

Brad

Warren writes: In 2011, my husband and I, in partnership with two of my siblings and
their spouses, bought a plot of land 2 hours outside the city of San
Francisco. It had one larger home (1500 sq ft) and 3 cabins of about
800 sq ft). One of my siblings moved to the larger house and land,
while we remained in the city. Over the years we gradually built up a
small family farm.

It is June 2, 2019, 10pm. I and our two children, 16 and 12, have
moved to the farm for the summer as we have done every summer since
2012, we arrived two days ago after the last day of school. We will be
spending our summer here, enjoying the country and working the farm
with my sibling, his spouse and their two children, 10 and 8, who
live there year round. My other sibling will also be moving up later
this summer, his wife died in 2015 in the earthquake. We expect to see
his son and family (wife and two children, 8 and 6) up later too. My
husband is still in the city working his job at the refugee center,
but he will be coming up over on weekends with the Aptera to help out.
We took turns coming up several weekends in the spring to help with
planting and upkeep. It's an abnormally hot summer this year, but
haven't they all been so? Luckily we have built a pretty good water
catchment system to catch the winter rains for summer irrigation, and
the nearby river helps. The farm now has about 20,000 sq ft planted in
annual vegetable and fruits and another half acre in tree fruits and
some perennial vegetables. The farm also has four devonshire cows,
about two dozen egglaying chickens and 3 bee hives. We expect to
produce about 30-50% of our food this year for the three families.
Today we spent the about 6 hours staking tomatoes and canning the rest
of the strawberries and making cheese. The children helped for a
couple hours, but then spent the rest of the day playing in the woods.

I went back to our house to do a couple hours work. I teach scientists
online about computational analysis, which has been in high demand
lately due to the flu pandemics and needed research.

Tonight I made a vegetable risotto made from the asparagus and
mushrooms we harvested yesterday. A small salad was our side dish. The
rice was difficult to come by. Though it is grown just East of us, it
is in high demand and expensive. We felt that it was worth it for the
first evening we have all been together this year.

We are all sitting around the table, just having finished supper. We
decide to play a card game since the children watched their alloted
time at the TV earlier. My oldest daughter is pouting and sullen again
tonight. She is upset that we have left the city yet again this summer
and her friends behind. She wants my permission to live in the city
with Dad and work a job there. She's been begging for it for months,
nagging. Like last year I tell her that we need her help on the farm
and that anyway, jobs are very scarce and I doubt she'd find one. She
counters that she can't be a farmer all her life (can't or won't) and
really is bored up here. I suggest she invite her friends up here like
she did last year. She mulls over that for a moment and relents (till
tomorrow). I really should consider letting her stay in the city with
her dad, she's getting old enough. But my worries about needing hands
on the farm and ... about the pandemics. I'd hate for her to be stuck
in the city if it were caught up in one of the 'pandemic flights' that
seem to plaguing other cities. People panic at the rumor of an
outbreak and then try to flee the city, making matters worse. Nearly
2,000 people died in last years Atlanta pandemic flight. I'd hate for
her to be caught in one.

My youngest daughter and her cousin want to know what's for breakfast
tomorrow. I reply eggs w cheese and strawberries. "AGAIN?!" they
protest. We can't seem to find any pork at a price we can afford, and
they both love bacon. "Yes, I reply, again. But, here's the deal,
we'll have four dozen extra eggs tomorrow. If you can find someone to
trade them for bacon or ham in town tomorrow, then we can have
something different."

After the children all get to bed, my brother and I turn on the TV
four our alloted hour and watch the news.

Oil prices spiked today to 1,000/ barrel on news of a major pandemic
flight in NYC and another terrorist attack on an Saudi oil refinery....

Thoughts of moving to the farm permanently cross my mind before I say
good night.

Jack writes: 1-1-2019

Civil Liberty is at a all time low, and my kind is still persicuted. Libitarians have been labled as "renegades" by Our President, and only my day job of a common programmer and certian skills aquired during my security systems Co-Op during college have kept me out of suspion. Another year is another liberty lost, and this year, who knows what we will loose.
-Kurios

RoRoSoRo writes: September 12, 2019
Beijing, PRC

Tonight I will be attending a dinner held in honor of the first
Chinese Lunar Landing, at the PRC's national space advisory
committee's annual awards night. The success of the lunar program has
been met mixed reviews in the international arena, and tonight's
gathering is likely to be followed by a number of policy changes in
our offices. None-the-less, dinner will likely be extravagant,
delicious, and mandatory, as the refusal of one such invitation does
not bode well for a follow-up, and the attending members of the Party,
and national government are the ones who set our national agenda.
Without Space as a part of that agenda, our offices are done for, and
now is NOT the time to be job hunting in Beijing.

Its been nearly a week since a Xinhua News Release about the GESA
findings made it to the front page of the China Daily News, the
newspaper with the highest readership inside of the People's Republic
of China. While the findings of the research have given the public
here something to think about, the release was largely over shadowed
by the latest in a series of Chinese space success from the past
decade: The first Chinese astronaut to safely step foot on the moon.
Though this event happened nearly two months ago, the trumpeting of
the space mission as yet another piece of evidence in China's bid to
achieve "second to none" status in the world, has blared across
headlines in one form or another since Lin XiaoLiu's famous "first-
step."

As a long standing ex-pat in the People's Republic of China, this
really comes as no surprise to those of us who have kept abreast of
the news outside of the these hallowed (and strictly protected)
borders. While news from the world outside of China is not hard to
come by, what with China's deep interest in global e-commerce having
opened up nearly 99.3 percent of all web-content to users inside the
PRC, that news is regarded by most readers here as promoting the
western bias. Though the number of 'official' internet users in the
PRC has eclipsed 700 million, a paltry number of those users seem to
have any interest in reports running contrary to the PRC's
technological progress or economic growth. And let me just relay this,
the Chinese cultural glorification of the moon has reached a new
height as the nation waited in anticipation for the historic landing.

Again, some of us with our ears to the hot rail of the 'western' media
have watched the Chinese Lunar Mission with lenses tinted by the
darker trends that seem to be sweeping across Spiegel and the NY
Times. We've watched as the divisions have grown between the SCO
(Shanghai Cooperation Organization) nations and those of NATO, and the
number of resource raids (still going by the monikers "radical-state,"
or "burgeoning democracy" depending on whose happy) by their member
nations has continued to rise. We've seen the reports concerning long-
established port towns and their efforts to manage rising ocean
levels, and aging infrastructure. We are well aware of the latest
developments concerning the sovereignty of the Hawaiian Islands and
the implications that it may have for the United States Naval presence
in the Pacific Ocean (and accordingly the North and South China Seas).
Sadly we are all the more aware that the majority of our friends, co-
workers, and hundreds of millions of other Chinese nationals are
either unaware of these extra-national events, or simply not willing
to acknowledge them and the impact that they have had on daily life
here.

As Lin XiaoLiu was placing the first Chinese footprint on the surface
of the moon, reports of dehydrated migrants wandering into the fringes
of major metropolis areas trickle through the forums and urban dining
parlors.

A message from local governing agents went to all registered
cellphones urging them to watch the now-historic planting of a Chinese
flag on their mobile device or the nearest public viewing area.
Meanwhile, swarms of protestors, continue to assemble at various major
intersections, police stations, and government buildings, eerily
standing quietly for 1 minute with face covers before dispersing back
into the city crowds.

The latest restrictions of vehicles allows private car owners to drive
only one out of every five days, but the next scheduled Lunar mission
has already been set for later this year, when China plans to send the
initial module of its moon base to connect with the grounding bolts
installed by Lin and his team.

The GESA findings would seem to be news fit for long-standing
deliberation, and perhaps massive policy changes here in the Middle
Kingdom, but it is likely that any national level policy will not be
fully implemented until the next Five-Year can be approved at the 20th
Congress of the Communist Party of China in 2023. Despite slower
growth in membership over the past 6 years, and continued power grabs
by the National People's Congress, the CPC Congress still stands as
the pivotal political meeting in the nation. We expect that the newest
five-year plan will include the establishment of some "human-
preservation" activities, and funding for research and development in
that field.

Until then, I and my cronies (global ex-pats, local citizens,
officials, and students) will continue to live as the newspapers tell
us we should. Forever optimistic, progressive, and proud of living in
China. For dinner we will feast on the quivering remnants of American
Imperialism, and tomorrow we expect a healthy portion of moon-rocks,
to be followed by our monthly gas ration! After all, If humanity is to
come to an abrupt year in a mere 23 years it is all the more incentive
to put the People to work, NOW. It is of the utmost importance to the
governing bodies of the country that China's unquestionable position
of global-super power on the World Stage be secured. Even if no one is
around to watch anymore. GamBei!

Feldspar writes:

Food: pasta, tuna with onions and tomatoes, cheese

Talking about:
* virtual environments as a fact of mainstream life, not early adoption.
* consumer physchology.
* gothic clothing and music - or whatever name it has transmuted to then

J. Clark writes: My name is Chu. I am part of an informal collective. For the last week
I've been on an extended foraging mission. Today I've been lucky to
catch several good sized bugs and harvested grass seeds throughout the
day. I just found a nice patch of wild lettuce, so I'll have decent meal
tonight!

I'll be heading back to the common-ground tomorrow. I've only got 4 more
days of dried protein jerky left, and the batteries in my mini-computer
will only hold out for 2 without the solar charge. The sun has been MIA,
and even light cloud cover doesn't offer much power.

Our group isn't doing too bad this time. We plan our directions out so
that even the farthest of us stays connected to the Internet via our
mesh points. Ok, "connected" is a bit of a stretch, but at least I know
what's going on.

I will be happy to have something soft under my head when I get back.

Will C. writes: Having dinner in my small apartment which I share with 4 other people, the space is very cramped but I cant complain most of London is just way to overpopulated to live what seemed like a quiet life 10 years ago. my meal consists of pasta sauce and bacon its a real treat to get the chance to use the very energy hungry cooker which usually sits unused for weeks. As I finish my meal I look out of the dirty window that is in desperate need of a clean but has been neglected for a long time, the city seems so dark now its just coming to 11 PM so all the power is turned off and everyone must rely on either there own generators or any other power source they can find. the city is not safe when the power down begins, most sane normal people refuse to leave the house after dark due to the growing spate of murders which now seem far to regular these days. Before I jump into my single bed to check the locks on all the doors and ensure my gun is loaded and ready to fire.

David B. writes:

I'm eating yet another vegetarian dinner from the Coop. I don't want
to sound ungrateful. The food is good, localist, very healthy, and
relatively abundant. It's just that I can't help dreaming of a
cheeseburger or a red red steak with a glass of red red wine. Enough.
I've still got a fair number of credits left, plenty for food that
will get me through the next couple of weeks. There's not much left
for anything else, but I've got my music and I've still got friends
who can toss me consulting work. Even at my age I can still work,
thank God. My mind is intact, unlike the countless friends and family
members who have fallen to the dementia epidemic. And we haven't been
hacked much lately, so I can do my postings in the morning and then
watch the sun come up during downtime. I'm hoping to hear from my
daughter in Scotland today. I'm worried about her there, because
Americans remain unpopular everywhere, and even though she's there to
help I'm not there to help her. At least she's not in China, where the
Democratic promise is looking a lot like Maoism. Luckily my other
daughter and family are nearby and she's got a very good career. I'm
going to a seniorist meeting later. There's a lot of talk about
"euthanasia," or maybe I should say "YOU-thanasia" because every time
I walk down the street I feel people looking at me like I should be
put down, like I'm eating up credits that could be going to someone
younger and therefore more deserving. As if all my years of
productivity don't count. It seems that people nowadays think more of
their pets than the seniors. Maybe it's just that I'm feeling the tail
end of the anti-Boomer sentiment, but despite my daughters' claims
that it's paranoia, I think plenty of people would be happy if people
like me would line up at Vonnegut's Ethical Suicide Parlors. Does
anyone read Vonnegut anymore? Sometimes I think Galapagos should be
required reading for all of the big young brains out there trying to
run the world. As curmudgeonly as I'm feeling, things could be a lot
worse. At least we've got uptime in the mornings and evenings so I can
stay in touch with my network all over. Which reminds me. Time to toss
down the rest of this rabbit food and get posting.

Matt writes: Tuggeranong, Australia 2019: Right now it’s winter in the southern hemisphere. Tonight I’m dining with my wife, our 13yo daughter, the couple from next door and their parents. I put a frozen green chicken curry, rice and pappadums in the “Faster-wave” oven. Everything comes out perfectly heated in 30 seconds.

The dinner table conversation is mostly about global events. The world economy has not yet recovered from the financial markets collapse of late 2008. But again Australia has proved to be “The Lucky Country”. Commodity and food sales to China and India have insulated us from the economic problems experienced by people in other OECD countries. And we’re living in luxury compared to those unfortunate enough to live in developing countries. But we’re not unaffected – my salary is down, food prices are high and are set by the international market, and the neighbour’s parents must live with their children because their superannuation funds were wiped out years ago.

The “Inconvenient Truth” global warming symptoms haven’t eventuated. We discuss whether that’s because the models were wrong, or because the economic downturn since 2008 has slowed the emission of greenhouse gases.

I complain that I had to pay extra tax last year because I hadn’t implemented all the mandatory environmental features required on all houses. I have the required rainwater tanks, greywater recycling, 5 square metres of vegetable patch per resident, solar cells, insulation and solar hot water, but not the newly invented “Enviro-method 3000” machine. I simply can’t afford one and we’ll have to keep saving for a few more years.

Finally we get onto the serious subject of football. It’s funny how through all this turmoil, professional sport has continued without skipping a beat. The sponsors are different, but thank goodness the game is still the same.

PhilD writes:

I am eating dinner with my wife at home. We continue to attempt to grow veg in the back yard because ‘organics’ are totally unaffordable. We are now living on social security and remnants of our investment accounts---we’ve had to invade principal and are concerned that we +/- 10 years of remaining resources and probably 20 years of life remaining. As usual we talk politics…

Two terms of Obama administration was followed by election of Clinton, Chelsea….increased social welfare net has meant less pockets of intense poverty but financial workouts have made it difficult to raise capital. National infrastructure shows continued wear and tear---interstate roads have become toll roads to raise funds for reinvestment. Energy costs now consume as much of our budget as mortgage used to---we paid off the mortgage in 2008 but don’t have any more discretionary income. Brett Favre has announced his retirement from the Las Vegas Gamblers!

P.D. writes:

Dinner in a bunker, hopefully something grown and / or canned at home.

Thinking about winter is coming do I have enough supplies stockpiled?
What else do I need to get in before the Cold sets in and nothing grows?
Will there be food shortages again this winter? Is my supply secure?
Wonder if I should spread it between a couple of locations but then if
one is found will there be enough for my family?

Jerry G. writes: September / October was my usual time of year to vacation in Japan -- pursuing my hobbies of studying Japanese history and language. Because of rising costs and concern about the out break, I haven't made the trip recently. Two months ago I decided that I was probably running out of time to make the trip again. It's going to become more and more expensive and I expect travel restrictions to be put into place any day now.

So here I sit in Asakusa having tofu at an old favorite restaurant of mine. The place is emptier than I remember it being -- it has been like that in almost every place I've visited on this trip. The onsen in Odaiba wasn't even open for business. I guess public bathing isn't as popular during a pandemic. The prices are also much higher. Reading through the menu I make a quick mental yen-to-dollar conversion and I think to myself that I might be skipping the Shabu Shabu in Ginza this time around. At least I got a break on the hotel, as they apparently have lots of rooms available.

Having been to Tokyo many times before, I've grown accustomed to the masks many people wear to help allergies. Almost everyone is wearing a mask now and I am not sure it's allergies they are worried about. I think I might start wearing one -- maybe it will help me fit in a bit better. The reactions I've been getting have been much colder than in the past. Nothing overt, but the sense of being a 'welcomed visitor' that has always been an attraction to vacationing here is mostly gone. I'll be heading home in 4 more days and I get the impression that the people here will be happy to see me go.

Aske writes: After getting home from work at the think-tank CEFU, dedicated to coming up
with economical systems for the post-2019 world, I turn on my media centre:
Cooking a basic nutritional meal, reading the latest news, and listening to
Vivaldi all at the same time. Everything's connected here in my apartment -
just like in the outside world: GEAS' superthreats are not national, but
transnational threats, because of the interconnection of the globalized
world. Globalization was a bliss, no doubt, but whenever there's advantages,
disadvantages are sure too follow.

As mentioned, tonight's dinner is no gourmet meal; increased, no necessary,
global awareness has taught you a thing or two on modest consumption.

As I eat, I look out of the window at the 2019-metropolis in all its beauty
and all its grimness, and I wonder whether the solutions to the potential
2042-extinction of homo sapiens are to be found here in the grey jungle of
ambiguity. What has happened here in 2019 is a shift of paradigme, nothing
less. Our perceptions of the things around us, and of ourselves, have
completely changed. Think about it:
What's the value of money if you're gone in 23 years?
What's the point in future orientation, e.g. environmental friendly
investments?
Why shouldn't I place my own needs and wants above the laws of my country
when there's so little time left?
What's the point in living healthy?

I guess you see the point. This is the first time in human history that we
have a scientific approved, and commonly believed, countdown of the life of
our race. I've joined the Superstructs to change this.

By
Aske Denning

Ryan writes: September 11 2019.

My 42nd Birthday, the 18th anniversary of "the day that changed everything". The world's in flux and I'm trying to get some clarity. I'm starting this journal to organize my thoughts a little, maybe try to figure out how to describe this world to my kids. The 10 year old is starting to ask deeper and deeper questions about the news reports we're seeing and the rest aren't going to be quiet about it for long. It feels like the World hasn't changed much in the last decade. They're still making moves, TV series are as hit and miss as ever and people in general are STILL obsessed with guys playing with balls. But there have been some disquieting changes. The disease reports are, frankly, terrifying. The famines and security issues less so. I've read a lot about the "Diaspora of Diasporas" as they're calling it. People fleeing en masse from their drought stricken lives and everyone around here is talking about keeping them out or registering them or killing them or, I don't know what. People get so uptight about control. Live and let live I say. It seems like control is a contributing factor to all the problems we're seeing. Sure, gas is expensive and my electric car is a lot cheaper to operate, but it'd be cheaper still if they'd allowed that wave of nuke plants to start building back in '08. And the corn crops failing seems to me to be more about not allowing the new drought resistant strains to the market quickly enough, but enough about that. My wife will kill me if I let this get too political.

My wife and I have been working on our little suburban half-acre for 15 years, the apple trees we planted back in 2005 are a godsend, I can look out my front window and all I see this month is that we've got all the apples we can eat and enough for 15 gallons of hard cider and either 20 gallons of wine or 5 gallons of brandy (as long as the sugar supply holds). The neighbors are always happy to get some of my booze or a few dozen eggs in exchange for babysitting, or helping keep the car running. And if rationing ever starts (they keep talking about it) I've already gotten a head start on keeping transactions cashless and between friends.

But back to the food. We're eating quiche made from the eggs from our backyard flock. People said we were crazy to start keeping chickens back in '06, but we got pretty good at it and now we've got all the eggs we want even when the grocery store can't always get them in. I tried to keep the entire rest of the meal from our backyard, but the milk came from the parent's house down the street. Those miniature cows really do give a bunch of milk. Our beehive is also over at the parent's house. Their neighbors are further away then ours. They're about to turn 70, and they really like that one of us rides our bike out there daily to milk the cow. I think it's nice that they get to see us and the kids so often and I like to have the fairly secure source of milk.

Anyway, the quiche has our eggs, milk and cheese, and the salad is entirely from the back yard. I mean, we're nowhere near self-sufficient, but I get a lot of joy from our big gardens and they keep a significant chunk of our food budget out of the cash economy. It also tastes great (try real homemade raspberry ice cream with cream from your own cow!) and on my birthday it's particularly great to know that I made all of the food from scratch. Especially with the uncertainties on the global food system.

The wife and the kids and I are mostly talking about school and her work and who I'm talking to about work this week. I'm a freelance camera guy and it can be pretty interesting these days. I try to just do the movies, but the news guys pay good and it's hard to turn down a month of traveling since it can pay most of our expenses for 6 months. Maybe I'll write down some of my stories here in the future, but for now I'll just say that it keeps things interesting and my kids know almost first hand how crazy it gets out there sometimes.

I guess that's about enough for the first entry. Reading back through it's a bit disjointed, but I think I tried too hard to be broad. I'll try to settle into a few more specifics later on. Maybe I can convince the wife to throw out her side of the issue too.

Sean writes: I'm having dinner with my neighbors, a collection of families
scattered throughout the hills in a small, isolated area of what used
to be south-eastern washington. We all grow different things to bring
to the table. We secured this area against intrusion by the starving
masses with a collection of electric sensors, foot patrols and gear
gleaned from a raid on a national guard armory. Our current topics of
discussion are, how to keep our soil fertile using the byproducts of
animal husbandry, how to find out what's happening in the outside
world, how can we make the most of this time and stay sane, and how
to prepare for the upcoming winter. We are eating eggs, kale,
potatoes, mushrooms, garlic and drinking fermented berry juice. All
16 of us are sharing two of my chickens, a tradition of slaughter and
meat-eating we hold once a month to keep our bodies and minds strong.
I'm currently thinking, at the age of 38, how to raise my children to
understand what the world was, and how it was not aligned with who we
are, as people, which is why it fell apart.

Paul writes: I’m in Oakland, CA, eating healthful food, mostly vegetables and fish, in the eat-in kitchen of my new-ish house, which I moved to five years earlier with my family (finally after talking about it forever). We’re talking about how everyone’s getting along better these days, now that we’ve relaxed into our more circumscribed role in the world, but in the SF Bay Area we’re still influential, in a different more global way. We’re still wondering how we’re going to pay for everything, but it’s more of a budgetary discussion, and less of a foreboding that we’re OK now, but if anything goes wrong we’re screwed. We’re talking about how nice it is to be past that turbulent first decade of the 21st century.

Tom writes: I learned to cook in Portland ten years ago. Hell, I learned to EAT in
Portland ten years ago. Food was all we talked about. Microbrews,
farmer's markets. Vegan, vegetarian, meatatarian, piscaterian,
locavore. Blood sugar, blood type, paleonutrition. We made fun of
anemic hippies but listened to what the naturopath said.

So when I look down at my plate, I'm looking backward into time. Red
quinoa, black beans, summer squash, collard greens. Sauteed in garlic,
splashed with some vinegar. This is what I was trying to make time to
cook, to save money and to keep my hypoglycemia under control. What
used to be virtuous is still a strain on the budget. This used to be
what austerity tasted like. Now this is living high on the hog.

(...Wow, THAT's an obsolete expression for you, huh? Tony and Jennifer
told me last week they _still_ dream about bacon. Our running joke
about The Bacon Guy, who was supposed to come bearing bacon during bad
hangovers, now seems almost messianic.)

It's worth the money. Have you _tasted_ the allegedly nutritional
"food" packets? I don't care how small an apartment I'm still living
in---I'm going to eat FOOD, dammit. And you know what? I'm not happy
that people starve, and I'm not happy that the food supply is in
peril, but... but it feels right, somehow, to genuinely value the
miracle on my plate. Hydrogen becomes helium, photons stream across
space, chlorophyll works its alchemy, and here is my plate: red
quinoa, black beans, summer squash, collard greens.

John S. writes: i'm eating in a small apartment with my current girlfriend and my
adult son. it's in a densely packed city that is increasingly
self-sufficient as transporting goods over long distances is no longer
practical.

we're having some pasta and vegetables, with wine. my son is having
chicken [as he is still a carnivore]. it is a modest dinner, nothing
special as it is an ordinary week night.

we are talking about literature. tonight, we started with storytelling
in graphic novels as opposed to those that are just text. we spoke of
how the same kinda scene [leaving a lover- say] will play out
differently in the two different [but related] media. it is a broad
and abstract discussion- engaging our higher natures.
this is a welcome relief from the experience of our day to day lives,
filled with the drudgery and chaos of a deteriorating society. the
state has become increasingly militaristic, and horrible actions are
taken regularly to intimidate the population into submitting to their
authority. there are dissenting voices, mostly marginalized.

Keith writes: I am in my dining room like I always am with my family having dinner, We are having what we usually have leafy greens from our garden and veggies on the grill, all from the garden. We are talking about the future of the world fish totals, my family was pescatrian(fish eating only) but we stopped when we thought the countries and agencies were no longer fishing responsibly or even trying to, we have since become vegan and we are probably talking about how nice it would be to have a nice salmon steak right about now, seeing as how we live in the pacific northwest and the salmon just does not get any better.

Daniel writes: Soup. More like broth. It's supposed to be chicken flavored, so it's that orange salty stuff. No vegetables. It's warm, they say I need a warm meal, but I'll let it cool. Tea, no sugar or milk, and I let that cool too. Some cornmeal mush, not even salty. It has lumps. Unevenly cooked. I'm not filled, but I pretend to be. Others aren't as good at pretending and try to get back in line, but are forced out. While my meal's still cooling, I watch everyone else file past the table. It will take a while; the line's longer than I've seen it in weeks. The volunteers are standing behind the huge vats that hold the soup, tea, and mush. They are blond, smiling docilely, and they wear crosses around their necks and clothes that are better than mine. They're at least new. These kids have new clothes. I think they're from Glendale.

Ruiha writes: My husband I are having a take-away. We used to have take-away once a week but it's ever couple of months now. It's my choice tonight so it's Lebanese. I'm sure the portions are a lot smaller that six months ago and there's the increased cost of delievery along with the continual rise in petrol costs but what can you do. We're still living in London although are thinking about moving out but are finding it hard to commit to the idea. We can head to Australia, and may yet, but starting again at 51 seems daunting, although I've still friends and family about the place so it might be a good option. The water restrictions there are massive which would be a new set of problems to deal with. My brother-in-law told us about IT security needs at desalination plants around the country, and my husband would have no trouble geting a job in that sector. His skills are in demand at least. I'm not sure my lungs could take it though. Brisbane was never good for asthmatics and I'm told it's got worse over the past few years.We aren't doing too bad where we are really but I don't know how much longer it will last. I'd like to think we were the kind of people (special??) that thought ahead and got themselves prepared but we're just like everyone else, sticking our heads in the sand hoping it will never happen.

I feel more of a sense of community here than the last place we lived and I think that's going to be important in the future. People are more proactive than ever about using public green spaces to grow food. I am an urban child at heart but I'd like to mix it with a little green so it's a good thing to see. Working part-time gives me the time to work at permaculturing the backyard so I feel I'm doing what little I can. I'd like to be able to make more of an impact in improving the world we're in but what can one person do?

...Ah the door bell. I will enjoy the tangy taste of shish taouk while I still can.

Mosspiglet"

Paul writes: WOW

Hard to believe how much has chnaged in the past 10 years since I played that planet changing game 'superstruct'.

Take my food now it's a high protein compound that taste great but has virtually eliminated obesity off the planet and no one anywhere is starving. You can eat as much of this as you want the body only can absord what it needs and the rest gets eliminated. I'm not real sure how this works but I can tell you that they entire population of the planet no longer suffers from either hunger or obesity! I'm not exactly sure how they make it but I know that it's made entirely out of recycled materials and common organic materails found in lakes and in the ocean, and that the planet now supports more than 30 billion people and that we are told that this compound can be made tu support much more than that.

It took 10 years, but the giant Google has finally fallen off it's pedestal they when to way of that other old giant - I think it was called microsoft. Now we have the conglomerate and association of millions of small software makers that coordinate their efforts to provide all the software that is needed to run our home based artificial intelligence systems (I call mine HAL :-) )

Well talk to you later

Byes

Paul/

Andrew writes: I'm frying some bacon for a sandwich and a cup of tea before I settle down to do a bit more work on my laptop and listen to a Premier League football match on the radio. Beckham's second season in charge at United.

The bacon smells lovely, and it's hard not to think of it as bacon, even though I know it's made from some kind of GM modified super maize.

For a second I regret that it's not fleshy real bacon from a pig, just for authenticity - a bacon sandwich with lots of ketchup is exactly the kind of small pleasure a single man living alone likes to get right! - but I know I can only afford that kind of dining experience two or three times a year in a restaurant.

And I know that this imitation bacon is actually much better for me, with some sort of fancy bug in it that cleans out my arteries.

On the radio, the final news story before the sports news is about flooding in Bangladesh. Those stories never get much prominence any more, so this one must be quite bad, even to feature. I wonder if they have a chart in their newsroom - the cut off point is 10 000 dead, any less, ignore it.

There was a time when these stories were always on. Hundreds of thousands of Bangladeshis and other black and brown people suffering endless misery. But you don't see much of it any more. Partly because they are black and brown people a long way away from us, partly because most of Bangladesh is always underwater now, so those people left have learned to cope somehow, but mostly because for us, it never really happened.

A few years ago the endless misery of Bangladesh was heading straight for us. Them first, us next. But then activists started activating, pop stars gave concerts, scientists invented stuff, like GM super maize that tastes of bacon, we all did a bit, and guiltily didn't do a lot, and politicians, like the rest of us, did as little or as much as they could get away with, and somehow, it just never happened.

Things have changed, no doubt. Like being served a tiny, fleshy, authentic bacon sandwich as a starter in a fancy restaurant. But are things worse? Maybe. But then, people have always thought it used to be better in the old days. It's what happens to us when we are old enough to remember them.

And maybe it was better. But then my super maize bacon sandwich will keep me alive and with all my marbles till I'm ninety, and what worries me this evening as it starts to get dark is not the endless misery across the world in Bangladesh, but that I live alone, in a block of flats where each lighted window is another person living alone, and that because I never bothered about a pension, I have to turn my laptop on and do some work.

But my bacon sandwich tastes as good as it ever did.

Craig writes: Sitting down to my bowl of instant noodles, I wonder whether on my
income of £40,000 whether I will ever be able to get on to the housing
market. The gap between the "have"s and "have not"s seems to have
skyrocketed over the last few years. I went back to university as a
mature student in order to try and give myself a better quality of life
but all I seem to have done is get myself into the same lending culture
as everyone else, taking from Peter to pay Paul. I'm starting to worry
about whether I'll ever be able to pay off ever increasing interest
rates that my credit card companies seem to be imposing as one lender is
consumed by another or fights to stay afloat, or whether I will have the
money to pay the next quarters fuel bills, let alone the £100 fine I was
given for not properly sorting my recycling.

Helen writes:

Last night was my son G’s 23rd birthday. We’re sitting in the garden and thanking our lucky stars that we’re fortunate enough to have half an acre in the garden of England to grow our own vegetables and fruit. G spent most of the weekends over the winter improving the fencing to stop the local wildlife and the hungry masses breaking through to steal the vegetables I’ve spent so long growing. He’s so sweet to spend so much time with his boring old ma, even though he’s just started specialising in equine studies in his veterinary degree, that’s where the money is now of course. Over the past fifteen years I’ve turned from keen amateur veg gardener to zealot, and sometime law-breaker since harvesting your own seeds for replanting certain varieties was declared illegal by the agro-chem giants four years ago. But the online gardening communities keep on managing to duck and dive to avoid the law, for now at least.

Dinner was – roasted vegetables - courgette/zucchini (green and yellow) , potimarron squash, garlic, tomatoes, red peppers, goat’s cheese from Sarah’s farm, harissa and, to push the boat out because it was G’s birthday couscous. Extraordinary to think how wheat products like bread, couscous and pasta used to be staples, and now they’re like caviar!

P said that she’d finally got around to reading the copy of Cider with Rosie by Laurie Lee that I’ve been trying to persuade her to read for the last five years. She could believe the way in which the world has come full circle over the past 100years. At the opening of the book it’s 1918 and Laurie Lee tells of how their world was just their small valley, the local community, and travelling beyond that seemed like an adventure. Then of course during my parents’ lifetime and mine the world shrank and everyone travelled everywhere for £1 on EasyJet and now we’re back to local local local, and using horses to get around if you’re lucky and rich enough.

Fan writes:

Sep 19, 2019

Minneapolis, MN

Dinner was good tonight. I cooked chicken for the everyone. That was
a treat and it sure was fun to cook with meat for a change. Boy, do I
miss that. It just isn’t as much fun cooking vegetarian but what can
you do? Fortunately tofu is easy to get and what I would give for a
big bowl of rice. For food, there are a lot of advantages living in
Minnesota but there sure aren’t a lot of rice patties up here. My
Chinese food sensibilities just don’t synch well with the local food
stuffs we have here. I shouldn’t complain, we have enough food and
plenty of water.

I’m still debating with my wife about whether one of us should cut
back on work to work with the kids. Our oldest daughter should be
starting high school and our second daughter should be starting middle
school but with all the health closings, they haven’t been in school
now for two months and are already two grades behind. At least we
have the Internet for them to take some classes. I guess I’m old
fashioned but I’d like to stay home to teach them.

It was a beautiful Fall day today. Hurricane season down south is as
crazy as usual and it’s nice to see the sun for once. We’ve had a lot
of rain lately. Winter though is just around the corner and I think
we’ll take in five people this time. With my sister living with us
now, I think we can manage with ten, maybe twelve, in the house this
winter. The streets do seem emptier than last year. I guess people
are moving sooner to warmer climes this year. Hopefully though, we
won’t get the snows so early this year.

I better stop. It’s getting dark and it’s time to shut off the power.

Fan Tong

Evonne writes:

Quinoa loaf with homegrown greens, a salad with my own blend of Four Thieves Vinegar and homegrown coconut oil, likely some fruit from our trees on the side. We live in a sustainable village of four dozen active residents and thousands of yearly guests; many travel from around the world to take workshops at AMO. The cisterns are getting dry and dinner discussions gravitate on soil nutrients and recent weather pattern changes while my husband tinkers with cloudbusting alternatives.

PK writes:

Friends -

What can I say -- how sweet it was to finally reap the harvest of your
work! It's one thing to go years and years sampling tiny tissue
samples in a lab, but feeding a restaurant full of people with the
world's first commercially available lab-grown meat is another thing
entirely!

I want to thank each of you for making last night's dinner a raving
success; I was floored by the number of our friends and spouses who
took the time to personally express their amazement that what they
were eating wasn't "real" chicken. And now that our product is going
to market for the first time, I hope many more people will share this
joy, knowing that what they eat is not only good for them, but
essential to promoting a better future for our world as well.

It's been seven long years we've worked to make synthetic meat not
only a viable reality, but one whose production is safe and
sustainable. I couldn't be happier with our efforts, and I hope that
last night's celebration is only one of many more to come.

tschuss!
pk

Sarah writes:

How long since Ive sat at a keyboard? Here goes.

Ten years ago, I used to work part time at a tiny village school, I had a
husband, a young daughter, mild to moderate depression, and a time-consuming
Internet habit for escapism. Dinner was slotted in between work and online
gaming. Food came mainly from supermarkets, very occasionally from my
mother's allotment after a visit to Norfolk. Every few months I would make
another attempt to make food from scratch, and do quite well when I tried,
but convenience won out and it was "something out of the freezer" most of
the times in between. At least until food started to get crazily expensive.

If you'd told me I wouldn't be able to use the internet, I wouldn't have the
time to play online games like I was used to anyway, surf to my heart's
content, and (most importantly) keep in touch with all those internet
friends I'd found, I would have told you I'd be a ghost of myself, barely
able to bother going on. It used to be called Internet Addiction, but it
was just my choice of social life.

I still have a husband, my daughter has grown into the lovely young lady we
all hoped she would become. I try not to feel bitter about her future, she
could have got into a good university, but there's just no money for it.
She works locally, I don't think she enjoys her job but she rarely
complains. I'm using her lappy to write this, and she's going to send it
when she can.

I work part time, as I did, but now I also work a couple of gardens (the
vegetable kind, plus chickens.) along with my Mum. We used to live in
different counties but the other year she and her husband moved in with us,
leaving their house for my little sister and her family. They may be up
here too soon. The Norfolk coast and the Lincolnshire coast both have their
share of breaches in the last ten years, but we are a little safer here on
the edge of the Wolds than most of Norwich.

My Mum bought her seeds with her. She and her allotment buddies hoarded all
kinds of old varieties. I always did want to learn how to grow veggies, and
to keep chickens. I always loved powercuts, an excuse to get the candles
out. We got a mini wind turbine last summer though, after my husband's
brother got one the year before and sort of "tested out" the system for us.
We've had solar heated hot water a while now too.

The weird thing is, although we struggle to make ends meet, and there has
been no let up in the general worldwide doom and gloom, my own personal
depression has never been easier to cope with. Apparently mankind has 23
years to live, according to something I read in the news. Ten years ago I
might have been all over the internet reading about it in all kinds of
detail. These days, I have more of my family around me, I'm more in touch
with the local community (broken though it still is, and filled with people
who can't let go of "keeping up with the Joneses") and I'm more in touch
with nature, I mean the way it is now, not how it was before we unbalanced
it. With growing things and making sure the wind turbine doesn't get blown
away in the occasional gale, you have to be.

Oh, and dinner is something you could probably call rattatouille, close
enough. Neither me or Mum have ever been much for sticking to other
people's receipes. Things are usually edible. Not like the samphire, that
was weird this year. It grows on the shoreline, we'd been having that in
the summer for years, free greens. But this year finally, hardly any grew
that was worth picking.