Future Perfect

1. Computers will soon be made out of gel—we’ll rub them into our skin. Or, actually, it’s more
that digital information (music, movies, Wikipedia) will be delivered through gel applied topically.
Also, comedy will become huge. It already seems pretty big right now, but it will enter
all arenas—sports, science, education, politics. And as comedy becomes the backbone of society,
what’s funny will change. Eventually, humor will kind of die, making room for the darkhorse
candidate: sadness. Sadness will become the new funny. It will be explored and commercialized
in ways that are hard to conceive of right now. Think: sad ads.

2. The next prediction isn’t mine. It’s something I read in The Economist (What? You didn’t
think I read that? You don’t know anything about me). I quote from that article: “ . . . In
the long run we’ll all be dead. But how long is the long run? In 2003, Mr. Rees gave it
a 50-50 chance that humans will go extinct in the next 100 years. Mr. Bostrom puts the
odds of that at about 25 percent.” Did you catch that? This scientist and philosopher are
predicting that there’s a 25 to 50 percent chance humans will go extinct in the next 100
years. Doesn’t that mean our grandchildren will be the last humans? I feel like we should
all be behaving very differently if this is true.

3. This has to do with the bee-colony collapse, and I’m pretty sure I’m right about this. My theory
is that all of the missing bees are going to come back . . . in the form of one big bee. It will
be about the size of a blimp. It won’t be seeking revenge; it’ll be like other bees—benign unless
provoked, going about its busy business.

4. Some predictions that other people have made for me: The famous junkie psychic in the
West Village, Madame M, told me that I had a lot of Ms in my future. Since I was there
with a Miguel, and her name was M, this seemed pretty safe. But then I dated a Mike, and
then I married another Mike. So maybe. The astrologer Robert Hand told me I wouldn’t
age much for the next 15 years. Currently I look my age, maybe even a little older. But it’s
exciting to think I’m still going to look 37 when I’m 52. What happens after that though?
Do those 15 years catch up with me all at once? Finally, right before I shot my movie, a
tarot-card reader said, “I see you are about to embark on a massive project.” I nodded yes.
Then she said, “Okay, look: This project is going to be almost impossibly difficult. But you
have to see it through, because a lot people need it.” She was right about the first part—it
was impossibly difficult. We’ll find out about the rest.

5. I figured it out: I’m walking down the street one day and suddenly there’s this sort of unraveling
feeling in my chest, a loosening. For a moment I think I’ve wet my pants or that
my pants have fallen down. But then I look out, and—whoa!—I can see way past the horizon.
I don’t even know how it’s possible, but I’m looking straight through the atmosphere
and even—Jesus—through outer space. And this sight, the thing I see (what is it?), really
opens me up. I stop being anxious. No more to-do lists and waking up at 6:30 a.m. as if I’ve
just heard a gunshot. From then on when people talk about me they don’t say anything
about how creative I am or any of that shit. They just say: “She’s so chill.”