The Future Is Yours: A Novel

by Dan Frey

  It saddens me that he is joining the side of fear, the side of people who want to STOP this revolution. But we are not about to BACK DOWN. We are in this for the LONG HAUL. We are gonna FIGHT!

  I am so proud of the people and the work I see around here. I know many of you skipped out on larger salaries at bigger firms in favor of stock options here…and I PROMISE YOU, those stock options will (one day soon) make you RICH, as long as you stick around.

  We are moving ahead with all of our launch targets. The 1.0 will be ON SALE in ONE WEEK. The Future is OURS!

  Sincerely,

  Ben Boyce

  CEO and Chief Visionary

  The Future

  That is the end.

  At least, that is the last data I was around to gather, before I left.

  But please, keep reading…

  CONCLUSION

  B—

  Merry Christmas.

  My gift to you is this manuscript,

  and with it, a possibility for change.

  I have gathered these documents and brought them back to you.

  Back in time.

  I know how this all sounds, but please, keep going.

  You are reading this, I expect, on December 25, 2020,

  but I wrote it on Christmas 2021,

  and I’ve traveled back to deliver it one year in the past.

  As you read this, there are two versions of me in your timeframe—

  the time-hopping me that wrote these words,

  and another “me” that is one year younger, blissfully unaware of any of this.

  You are going to wish that version of me a Merry Christmas later today,

  but first, you need to hear what I (this version of “I”) have to say.

  You are probably wondering:

  Has Adhi finally lost his mind?

  Is this an elaborate hoax, or a product of his latest episode?

  I assure you, it is not.

  The documents in this manuscript are all real.

  They were obtained from a variety of sources, mostly online,

  and from the servers of The Future (the company you and I are going to start in the year to come).

  Some of these documents are from further in the past.

  You have seen some of them before, or even heard them aloud (the toast from your wedding).

  Others, no doubt, are thoroughly baffling to you—

  coming not only from the year to come, but from the future beyond that.

  I have edited these together in an attempt to give a fair portrait,

  not only of what this technology does to the world,

  but of how it changes people.

  How it changed us.

  I am delivering this manuscript to you after carrying it back in time,

  knowing full well it will be met with healthy skepticism.

  I invite you to verify its authenticity any way that you can,

  and if you are ready to entertain the possibility that all of this is real…

  or rather, that it all will be real, in the timeline I’ve come from…

  then I will explain how it has come to be.

  Later today, you are going to text to wish me a merry Christmas.

  You are frustrated at work and looking for a way out.

  You will ask me about the dissertation I wrote in grad school,

  and you will ask me to send it to you to read.

  When you do, you’ll get excited,

  and when you get excited, anything is possible.

  So you and I will quickly build a billion-dollar company,

  and together we will create a technology that will change the world.

  Possibly that will destroy the world.

  Certainly that will destroy our friendship.

  So I’ve collated this selection of documents

  and brought them to you at great personal risk,

  at the expense of never being able to return to my own time—

  in order to try to change the future.

  First, let me make sense of how.

  Having read this far, hopefully you understand the difference between 1.0 technology (information sent back through time)

  and 2.0 technology (an individual physically traveling back in time).

  1.0 Technology can see the future, but that future is unalterable.

  2.0 technology is a way to change the past by introducing new matter, new consciousness, and new agency into an earlier point in the timeline.

  History can be altered.

  That’s what I’m here to do.

  I was, at one point, genuinely convinced that 2.0 was impossible

  because it would require nearly infinite energy density.

  Turns out, it is quite possible.

  All it takes is a Large Hadron Collider.

  After you and I met with the DoD in November 2021

  (I’m using past tense, because it is past for me, though future for you)

  I was invited to a separate meeting at DARPA.

  They had been working on 2.0 for years, but failing,

  because they had never achieved 1.0.

  I worked with their team for a week and helped fill in the gaps.

  We succeeded.

  We built a working device that could send an individual back in time.

  Of course, anyone who went would never be able to return.

  It was very possible the device would instantly kill the first person who attempted to use it.

  A volunteer was needed, to be the Neil Armstrong of time travel.

  I raised my hand.

  I had good reasons, and nothing to lose.

  I traveled back in time by just three months, to August 2021.

  I told the DARPA team that would be a good baseline to verify that the technology worked—

  so that in the new, earlier timeframe I could approach them and inform them of our success.

  In fact, I had no intention of approaching them.

  I was conducting my own inquiry, to see if a 2.0 intervention could actually alter the timeline.

  I chose August as my destination, because that was when the Beta Test was under way.

  I used this as a control, knowing we had already utilized our Prototype to obtain data on how the Beta Test had gone.

  I sought to change that data by stealing one of the Beta Units.

  Yes, I was the one who stole the Beta Unit,

  while you, and the other me, were both wholly unaware.

  I’m sorry for the headache that my burglary caused.

  This theft was the reason for the Discrepancies you experienced.

  Your present was physically disrupted,

  so the “future” our Prototype foretold began to change,

  and I proved that altering the timeline was possible.

  I had hoped changing the timeline in this way might avert some of the negative consequences I had foreseen.

  That we might avoid widespread financial collapse, international conflict,

  and a Luddite terrorist backlash.

  Instead, I only seemed to make them worse.

  Perhaps because a challenge, when presented to you, only steels your determination.

  At that point (November 2021) I had gone back in time three months,

  and re-lived those three months,

  and my attempts to improve the future had failed.

  I figured that in order to make an impact, I needed an ally.

  So I introduced myself to the other me—

  the Adhi you knew (will know) in November 2021.

 
I explained where I’d come from to the other Adhi,

  and he was, understandably, rather freaked out.

  But he was also excited.

  I have always wanted to change the world,

  so of course, the other me was thrilled that he finally had a chance.

  Together, we decided to undermine The Future.

  We needed to create a problem for the company—a problem for you—

  so we devised a plan to fake the other Adhi’s death

  in such a way that you would be under suspicion for it.

  Not enough that you would actually be jailed

  (the plan was for Adhi to publicly reappear long before then)

  but enough for the ensuing scandal to disrupt the company’s prospects.

  We thought that if you were under active investigation for homicide,

  you would not be able to launch the product.

  When you and I were summoned to D.C.

  the other Adhi remained in Palo Alto,

  while I (yes, the time-traveling me) went to the DoD meeting with you.

  You were unable to tell the difference.

  To be fair, I was only a few months older than the other me,

  and the stress of this whole endeavor had prematurely aged us both.

  When you returned to the Valley and met with “me” at the Dish,

  that was the other Adhi, the one from your timeframe,

  and while you were talking with that other me,

  I was at the office, procuring the documents that I have compiled here.

  Alas, the plot to frame you for murder, once again, only seemed to make things worse.

  You decided to go ahead with the launch of the product

  and the future our device foretold grew even darker than before.

  At that moment (Christmas Eve of the year to come)

  it became apparent that nothing I did in that timeframe would stop you, or foundationally alter the future.

  I realized that if I wanted to make a real difference,

  I needed to go further back.

  I needed to stop The Future from ever being formed,

  and stop the Prototype from being built in the first place.

  As soon as you announced your intention to go ahead with the product launch,

  I printed the documents I had collated from the company’s servers

  and on Christmas 2021, I traveled to the DARPA lab in D.C.

  Breaking in was easy, since I’d had access to the research facility before,

  and even if I tripped an alarm, I had no need to escape.

  I would be going in but not coming out.

  I used the Prototype to travel back—

  but this time, I went further.

  A year, in fact.

  Back to…today. December 25, 2020.

  The day when you first reached out to me about my research paper.

  The day when The Future was born.

  In the hope that I can dissuade you.

  In the hope I can convince you to let that go.

  Of course, you probably want to say to me:

  Why not go talk to yourself?

  Why not go talk to the other Adhi, the one native to this timeline?

  But that is exactly what I did before, when I traveled back to August 2021,

  and I am not proud of how I behaved.

  Or rather, how two of me behaved together.

  I am not proud of the fact that I tried to get Leila to run away with me,

  and I am not particularly proud of the plan to frame you for my murder.

  I have come, at long last, to know myself.

  I know that I am plagued by the deep belief that I am fundamentally alone—

  that I need to fix everything myself,

  regardless of right and wrong and who gets hurt.

  I will always choose knowledge and information,

  and on some deep, unalterable level, in defiance of evidence to the contrary,

  I will always believe that knowing will make things better.

  I will always leap to the conviction that this time around, I can control it.

  Which is why I know that if the other me were given this manuscript,

  he would thrill with the excitement of discovery.

  He would convince himself that he could do it all differently.

  He would probably even convince me to join him,

  to once again believe, it will be different this time.

  I have learned that I cannot help myself.

  If given the chance, I will always open Pandora’s box.

  So I am trying to do something different

  by leaving the decision to someone else.

  My Captain. My Kirk.

  I am reaching out, hoping that with you, it can be different.

  Hoping you will not choose knowledge. Or success. Or control.

  But rather…friendship.

  You see, you are the only real friend I’ve ever had.

  When you wrote to the Student Disciplinary Committee,

  there was nothing to be gained by that except for helping me.

  When you emailed to put me forward for the job at Google

  (which I only learned about while preparing this manuscript)

  and when you tricked Paolo in order to keep me on the Board

  (which you, reading this, haven’t even done yet)—

  all of those incidents are evidence

  that I am not, as I have feared, alone.

  Of course, at darker moments, my mind rebels,

  and tries to convince me that even those kindnesses were a clever fiction;

  every one of them, certainly, helped you in some way too.

  But I have to believe that all of it was real,

  and our friendship was rooted in kindness and truth,

  because, if not, the world might as well be damned.

  In light of what you have read here,

  I think it is undeniable that this technology is a problem.

  For you. For me.

  For Leila and your marriage.

  For the world as a whole.

  It is a technology that increases information, but diminishes choice—

  and the results for everyone are catastrophic.

  I have proved to my own satisfaction that the impossible is possible—

  that the past can be altered—

  and in the process, the future can be changed.

  The question that remains is:

  Can we change?

  I couldn’t.

  But nonetheless I’m asking…

  Can you?

  So now, when I cannot do what is best for myself…

  I hope you will do what is best for us both.

  I hope that you will text me—the other me—later today…

  and just tell him Merry Christmas.

  I hope you’ll invite him to meet up at The Dish.

  For beers.

  For stars.

  Because this time around, it’s up to you.

  The Future is yours.

  Sincerely and eternally your friend,

  —A from the future

  For Casey.

  My future is yours.

  ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

  Writing a book is far from a solitary endeavor. It is inspired by others before the writing even starts, and is nurtured into existence by the enthusiasm, feedback, and support of a whole community. I feel immensely fortunate to have found myself amid a network of brilliant individuals, who all played a role in translating a
lark of an idea into the novel you just read.

  First off, many thanks to my agent, Zoe Sandler, whose faith and work has helped me realize my childhood dream of becoming a novelist.

  Thanks also to my fantastic editor, Sarah Peed, for her excellent work on the manuscript, and for loving Ben and Adhi nearly as much as I did. And to the rest of the Del Rey team, for getting this out into the world in its absolute best form.

  To my family for their eternal support, especially my dad, who taught me to dream about the future.

  To my brilliant and creative friends, who became my first readers and encouraging givers of feedback, especially Kevin Oeser, Sarah Schuessler, John Carey, Aqsa Altaf, Ariel Heller, Dave Crabtree, Nicole Wachell, Andrew Gori, and the members of my unfortunately named writers’ group, Deez Notes.

  I would also like to thank numerous people for their assistance with research into the culture of Silicon Valley, including Jason Rugolo, Ashley Grabill, Nick Dazé, and Hunter Rosenblume, among others.

  Thanks also to those who believed in the book, including Ryan Casey for passing it along, and producer power-couple Sev Ohanian and Natalie Qasabian, who provided smart creative feedback. And to filmmaker Aneesh Chaganty, who cared enough about Adhi, and about representation, that he made the story better and helped me evolve as a writer in the process.

  Finally, infinite thanks to my wife, Casey, who gently suggested that this story might best be told as a novel instead of a weird online experiment, and whose belief in me made it all possible.

  ALSO BY DAN FREY

  The Retreat

  ABOUT THE AUTHOR

  Dan Frey is a professional screenwriter and the author of The Retreat. He lives in Los Angeles.

  Twitter: @wordsbyDanFrey

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