June 2036.

The ice did not disappear all at once.

At first, it was measured in satellite imagery and scientific reports: percentages, anomalies, projections. Then came the shipping corridors. The military exercises. The speculative maps dividing up mineral reserves beneath thawing waters.

Capital flowing through the Defence, Security and Resilience Bank (DSRB) since 2026.

Now, in June 2036, the Arctic has crossed a threshold.

For the first time in recorded history, the Northeast Passage is fully navigable at the beginning of summer. Global shipping companies are preparing for a new era of trade routes that cut transit times between continents by nearly a third. Governments are expanding territorial claims. Oil, gas, copper, nickel, gold, zinc, and rare earth extraction projects are accelerating across the region.

And beneath it all:

A geopolitical scramble is underway.

Russia, Canada, the United States, Nordic states, multinational corporations, scientists, and Indigenous nations are all moving through the same rapidly shifting landscape — each carrying competing visions of sovereignty, security, prosperity, survival, and stewardship.

Military patrols have intensified. Surveillance infrastructure is expanding. Existing governance systems are beginning to fracture under the pressure of a world transformed by climate change.

At the same time, Inuit, Sámi, Nenets, and other Arctic Indigenous communities are asserting their own authority and demanding new models of governance rooted in relationship to land, water, and future generations.

No single actor controls what happens next.

The question is whether humanity can navigate the turning point before it becomes a point of no return.

You Are Being Convened

And you’re the first to know! (paid subscribers, read till the end for your discount code)

This June, The Climateverse invites you into Arctic Turning Point — a live in-person climate futures simulation exploring governance, conflict, cooperation, and survival in a rapidly transforming Arctic.

Over the course of the experience, participants will step into an emergency multi-stakeholder forum responding to unfolding developments across the region in real time.

You may find yourself negotiating shipping access, responding to ecological collapse, navigating territorial disputes, protecting Indigenous sovereignty, managing corporate interests, or attempting to prevent military escalation under conditions of deep uncertainty.

There are no easy answers.

No guaranteed consensus.

Only the challenge of thinking together at the edge of transformation.

During the simulation, participants will:

• Receive live scenario updates as the situation evolves

• Navigate competing priorities and incomplete information

• Explore possible governance and coordination mechanisms

• Respond to escalating tensions and emerging opportunities

• Engage with the complexity of climate futures beyond headlines and abstraction

• Co-create artifacts marking the shift from convention to new future possibilities

This is not a workshop.

It is a live exercise in collective imagination, strategic foresight, and navigating contested futures.

Guiding Question

Registration opens Wednesday 13th at 9am

Spots are limited.

Join us at the frontier of climate futures.

https://luma.com/arctic

Hope to see you there!

(Paid subscribers, read on for your discount code)

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It all starts with melting Arctic sea ice.

As new shipping routes open, as well as access to new oil fields, tensions increase around state and Indigenous sovereignty, militarization and environmental protection.

Will we default to the old playbook, or imagine new possibilities free from war and extraction?

Then the question of global governance is shifted on its head.

As the “old guard” of Global North-led international cooperation crumbles in the face of increased conflict and an inability to take action against veto powered interests, a new system of global governance emerges, deliberated amongst emerging strengths in the “Global South.”

Could a new system of internationalization emerge, that holds true to the values of peace, freedom, abundance and sustainability?

And then it all comes home.

At the local level, the Toronto region reckons with the need for new municipal-provincial dynamics in pursuit of justice for all species.

How can cities and regions navigate differences of opinion and politics to secure just futures for people and planet?

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Enter: The StoryWorld 2026.

These are the scenarios and premises of the three storyworld experiences The Climateverse will be exploring in the coming season:

1. Arctic Turning Point (Toronto Climate Week event)

2. Global South Council (Virtual Summer series)

3. The Watershed Moment (Fall event arc)

StoryWorld 2026 is a live, participatory climate futures experience.

Building off of last' year’s World Without Internet simulation that we ran entirely through this Dispatch, this year, the StoryWorld will unfold live with a mix of in-person and virtual experiences that will generate updates and artifacts that everyone else can follow along with right here in the weekly dispatch.

As a reader, you’re already part of the StoryWorld. Stay tuned for updates and dispatches as it all unfolds.

Paid subscribers will be invited to dive a little deeper:

• Respond to simulation prompts

• Submit “field signals” the council should consider

• Engage with the story as it evolves

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But of course, the best way to participate is to engage live with any of the three experiences.

Not sure where to start?

Join our virtual Launch & Learn on May 20th at 12pm ET

Part info-session, part-preview, I’ll walk you through the full arc of experiences, how they work, and what comes next.

Then we’ll play with the core method: responding to a signal, doing some collective sense-making and thinking about potential responses.

You’ll leave with clarity about how it all unfolds and all the ways you can participate live.

Bring your lunch (or breakfast, or dinner) and invite a friend as we kick-off this year’s StoryWorld program and rehearse the future together.

See you there!

Amidst much deliberation over whether the Brotherhood is a real rebellion effort, or just another trick the Party plays on its members, there have been reports of a different kind of revolution stirring in Oceania.

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Unconfirmed reports claim that groups have been seen to go on hikes in nature, or enter the back rooms of seedy bars and sit or stand in circles, talking. One witness who claims to have come across them in the open said they seemed to just be getting to know each other. Talking about their pasts, their fears—all taboo—but nothing illegal.

An unnamed source who claims to be part of the group said:

Purportedly, the Story Circles are spaces for people to be themselves, share their stories, connect, and build trust under and away from the ever-seeing eye of Big Brother. A soft revolution if there was one, in a world where the Truth is constantly adjusted to suit Party interests, and any sense of individuality is suppressed in service of the Collective. The group turns away from the attractive literature-sharing of the so-called Brotherhood in favour of direct human connection and shared experiences.

Is radical acceptance the new insurgency against fascist dictatorship?

Time will tell, for now Big Brother has no comment. But he is watching…

For new readers: See our guide to reading the dispatches:

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This week’s dispatch is directly inspired by last week’s book club session, on George Orwell’s 1984. We had a rich and wide-ranging conversation about a book that hits so close to home here in 2026.

For our futures activity, we played with Causal Layered Analysis, to unpack the underlying metaphors and myths that hold a world like 1984 together, and then to reframe them to imagine how a new, better world might emerge.

Frustrated with Orwell’s choice to quash any hope of rebellion in the original text, we also explored how a successful rebellion might come to pass in this too-familiar dystopia. One idea rang out: secret conversation meetings, purely for the purpose of human connection and trust in a world designed to make everyone spy and therefore completely distrustful of each other, themselves and the truth.

Join us for our next edition of Hopeful Speculations: In May we’ll be reading Sim Kern’s The Free People’s Village for some hopepunk set in a dystopia where everything is “green” on the surface…

Learn more and sign up now.

The island nation of Cuba this month completed its rollout of a nationwide fully renewable energy grid. “La Red Verde” as it’s known locally, has been in development for over five years, now insulating Cuba’s economy from decades-long trade embargoes, most notable from the United States. Now completely independent from fossil fuel price fluctuations and instability in supply, officials report that 100% of the local electricity demand is met with a combination of solar, wind and geothermal energy. Geothermal is currently the smallest proportion of the energy supply, with development planned to maximize it's potential.

Small scale community grids are peppered throughout the countryside, stabilizing the rural electricity supply.

Preliminary projections released by the Ministry of Energy suggest that the drop in energy-related greenhouse gas emissions will lead to an overall emissions drop by 65% over the next five years, a figure unprecedented for the Caribbean region. Analysts around the world are watching closely to see if and how this model can be replicated in other small states vulnerable to geopolitical instability.

In the meantime, the Cuban government has announced plans to develop the infrastructure for high-voltage underwater cables to facilitate the export of their growing surplus to neighbouring islands.

From the Minister:

“We have proven that we can service the needs of the Cuban people, but we project a major surplus as our green grid continues to develop. This surplus will be instrumental in maintaining our independence and resilience in the face of volatility, and enabling us to support our neighbours and allies in their shift away from the old fuels, to the power of the future.”

For new readers: See our guide to reading the dispatches:

Support Cuba in the present day

Cuban communities are suffering gravely at the hands of the U.S.

Canadians can support the campaigns of the Canadian Network on Cuba, which include calls to end the economic blockade and donations to send energy supplies (generators and solar panels) to Cuba today.

Read here for more information.

For readers in the US, the National Network on Cuba is a the parallel organization to support.

And you can find other local chapters of the Cuban Institute of Friendship with the Peoples (ICAP) online.

re-introducing ourselves:

Welcome to The Climateverse Dispatch.

This is your newsroom, reporting from emerging and alternate climate futures.

Here, we publish fictional dispatches, leaked documents, field notes, and signals from worlds shaped by efforts to advance climate justice. You can expect stories that cover a range of topical issues, like climate change, governance experiments, energy transitions, equity movements and societal shifts.

Why the StoryWorld?

In 2026, The Climateverse is launching its first StoryWorld season, a participatory experience where you can explore, reflect, and even help shape imagined climate futures. We first tested this model with last year’s World Without Internet simulation, and are excited to dive deeper into a continuous narrative arc of interactive and participatory storytelling, using foresight and futures methods, all rooted in climate justice.

The dispatches you’ll see here are part of the storytelling ecosystem leading up to the season, giving you a taste of the worlds we’ll inhabit together between “seasons" (like your favourite TV show).

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How to read the Dispatches:

• Dispatches: Short news-style updates on fictional but possible future scenarios. Think of them as “climate journalism from other possible worlds.”

Once the StoryWorld season starts (you’ll be the first to know), then you can expect a connected narrative arc connected to the events and experiments happening in a world of Climate, Conflict and Co-Creation.

These will include connected and usually chronological dispatches, as well as field notes from participants and artifacts & documents leaked from that world.

• Field Notes: Observations from simulations and experiments — sometimes written by participants, sometimes from our newsroom.

• Documents / Leaks: Founding charters, policy proposals, or memos from councils and coalitions in the future world.

• Signals: Early indicators of change — small developments that could reshape the future.

About pre-StoryWorld content:

Some posts on this site predate the StoryWorld launch. They are archived as Founder Logs. They provide context for how The Climateverse evolved, but do not follow the newsroom format.

OGs will remember our Dispatch from Other Dimensions. These are tagged alongside all new free-standing dispatches, but you’ll notice a subtle shift from alternate presents, to alternate futures, but with the same ethos that sparked the creation of The Climateverse from the very beginning.

The Dispatch is your subscription to the updates from this newsroom.

Your role as a reader:

• Subscribe to receive each dispatch in your inbox. (Consider upgrading for early access invites and discounts to our immersive experiences and events).

• Engage with the ideas and share your reflections — the StoryWorld thrives on curiosity and interaction.

• Consider joining upcoming events and experiments to participate more directly in shaping these futures. (Plus our bimonthly Hopeful Speculations Book Club!)

Connect with the Season:

This year the StoryWorld will unfold live with a smaller group of active virtual participants, whose co-creations and field notes will be broadcast to everyone else here in the Dispatch.

Stay tuned: More information, registration links, and exclusive updates to enter our StoryWorld 2026 are coming soon!

Welcome to the newsroom. Welcome to the future(s).

—The Climateverse Bureau

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Dear Minister of Finance,

We are writing in response to Canada’s 2026 federal budget — not to relitigate its details, but to respond to the feeling it left many of us with: that our public finances are constrained less by resources than by imagination.

In the weeks following the budget’s release, a group of residents, workers, artists, caregivers, and organizers came together through a community-led speculative budgeting process convened by The Climateverse and Kind Your Own Business. Rather than asking what is politically easy, participants were invited to ask a different question:

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Participants were each given a fixed amount of speculative public funds and asked to allocate them across areas within federal jurisdiction. Together, we translated values — climate care, Indigenous sovereignty, food security, cultural vitality, collective safety, and democratic participation — into concrete programs and priorities. The result is the attached community-authored speculative federal budget.

This document is not a proposal for immediate adoption, nor a rejection of fiscal responsibility. It is an act of democratic imagination. It shows how everyday people understand the role of the federal government in a time of climate disruption, rising inequality, and eroding public trust. It reflects a desire to invest upstream — in prevention, care, and resilience — rather than continually paying the price of crisis.

Several themes emerged clearly. Participants treated climate adaptation, food systems, housing, and culture not as discretionary spending, but as essential public infrastructure. Indigenous sovereignty was understood as foundational, not peripheral. Defense was reframed through preparedness, peacebuilding, and emergency response. And again and again, participants emphasized that budgets are not only technical documents — they are moral ones.

Budgets tell stories. They tell us whose lives are valued, what futures are considered possible, and which risks we are willing to take on behalf of those who come after us. In that sense, this speculative budget is an invitation: to consider how imagination, foresight, and participatory approaches might strengthen public decision-making in an era defined by uncertainty.

We offer this document in a spirit of civic care and shared responsibility. We would welcome the opportunity to share our process, our findings, and the questions this work raises about how Canadians want to participate in shaping our collective future.

With respect,

Alicia Richins
Founder, The Climateverse

DOWNLOAD THE BUDGET

This speculative budget was developed through facilitated participatory workshops using a fixed allocation framework and a federal jurisdiction lens. It reflects participant priorities translated into federally plausible programs.

Thank you so much for every participant who shaped this output. Please do peruse and share widely in your networks. We look forward to more speculative activities with you very soon!

I’ve found myself living in a liminal space the past six weeks: 2026 began, but I wasn’t inspired by all the new year energy as I usually am.

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Typically, my vision board is set before January 1st.
Goals delineated.
Plan for the year mapped out.

But this year was different.

And instead of fighting it, I decided to lean in.

Inspired by the concept of wintering, I allowed the new year to take its time to settle in.

In the Northern Hemisphere, the rest of Nature is still in retreat in January.

Hibernation.

Rest.

So instead of the frenetic energy of fresh starts, I let this January be about grounding. Easing into something new on the horizon, but in the present, focusing on internal alignment and intentionally moving slowly.

And together, in book club, we read the Monk and Robot duology: A Psalm for the Wild Built and A Prayer for the Crown Shy by Becky Chambers.

This cozy read was an instant hit with the club, as a meditative journey that challenged us to reflect on our relationship with the rest of Nature and each other.

To question the way that the pursuit of purpose can sometimes take over and make us forget our inherent value as human beings regardless of contributions to the rest of society.

It left us rested and hopeful, and imagining what a world centered on enoughness would look like versus our present obsession with growth and accumulation.

And then I entered the advent season for Carnival.

Fete season: a time of parties and festivity oozing with culture.

I flew home for Carnival to celebrate Black History Month the way my ancestors celebrated emancipation and demanded liberation: through music, dance and a refusal to be contained.

Carnival for me is an annual pilgrimage. A ritual to reconnect to Source, to Land and to Community.

And to be reminded of my lineage and my right to freedom in the face of so much oppression around the world.

To declare all liberation intertwined, as we released inhibition in the wake of rising regional tensions spurred on by US imperialism.

Jourvert morning in Trinidad, February 2026

And while we shouted Happy Carnival, celebrating this kind of New Years, Chinese New Year and a range of other Lunar new year celebrations reverberated around the world, while Muslims settled in Ramadan and some Christians into Lent.

So much of the world is celebrating renewal and fresh starts as we continue on our way to Spring (another New Year).

As the frost starts to melt and time cycles along, we are becoming energized to really dive into a new year.

And that energy is important, as we face the unnatural darkness of fascism, authoritarianism and oppression in so many forms. It prepares us to look in the mirror, to face the monsters and put in the work needed to free us all.

And so, for our next HopefulSpeculations bookclub we’re going to face the monster together as we read the classic: 1984.

"A masterpiece of rebellion and imprisonment where war is peace freedom is slavery and Big Brother is watching."

We’ll walk through the literary dark together, then meet to reflect on the lessons we take. Our foresight activity this month will be Causal Layered Analysis: we’ll unpack the layers of myth and meaning that make a world like 1984 (or the present) possible, and then reframe to consider the new myths and worldviews needed to transition to a new world.

Join us online on Saturday March 28th at 11am ET.

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One More Thing

If you’ve been around for a while here you may recall that last year, we published our first community zine called Futurescapes, inspired by the 2024 UN Summit of the Future, and imagining possibilities for 2024-2100.

For the last year, I’ve been collaborating with the Uptown Climate Conversations team to deliver the Uptown Climate Futures program, focused on community climate conversations in uptown Toronto.

Our workshop series is culminating in a community anthology, and thanks to new funding, we’ve opened up submissions beyond program participants.

So if you’re looking for a home for some writing, poetry or artwork that fits the theme of Toronto Climate Futures, please do consider submitting here by this Saturday February 28th.

All details are mapped out in our Submissions Guidelines.

Imagining alternate futures with you,
Alicia

2026 has begun! And we now find ourselves a full week into a new year.

It’s a good time to remember that even calendar time is a social construct.

The Gregorian calendar we use today was issued in 1582 (not that long ago in human history), and became a unified international system thanks to the power and influence of the Catholic Church, and then imperial Europe.

With different choices, we’d be celebrating New Year’s in February, along with millions of people across Asia as the Lunar Calendar starts anew, or in March when the Northern Hemisphere experiences the Earth Springing back to life.

(Ethiopians still celebrate New Year’s in September!)

Birthdays are also naturally a kind of personal new year.

The point is, we could decide where we want to place and honour a threshold of new beginnings at any time.

Know where I’m going with this?

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We could decide to change our trajectories at any point in time.

When the news came out about the US invading Venezuela, bombing its capital and kidnapping its President, my first thought was “…the year JUST started, and we’re already on this BS.” facepalm

Meanwhile, we could choose not to be at any given time.

We could:

• Divest from oil and gas

• Ban new oil and gas development

• Invest in renewables even more

• Transform our transportation system to support faster, low emissions mass transit

• Establish an equitable international governance system

• Restructure our economic to focus on meeting materials needs through just distribution of resources, rather than private profit

• Pursue reconciliation in earnest

• Give the Land Back

And so many other things we explore in The Climateverse.

We can decide to start anew any day.
We just have to choose to.

And I know what you’re probably thinking, “We?! Alicia, I have no power to stop all this oppression.”

And that’s true at the individual level, sure.

But you do have some power to change something, however small. Because how we do things at the small scale is how we do them at the large scale (thank you adrienne maree brown!)

And if we band our small acts together, collective power can change everything.

Luckily, we have a hopeful example to cling to: the inauguration of Zohran Mamdani as New York City Mayor.

Not only did he make a rousing speech at the ceremony on January 1st, committing to governing his city exactly as he campaigned: a democratic socialist devoted to the best interests of ALL New Yorkers.

He’s also gotten to work after a busy transition period where he immediately announced an all-star transition team, and appointed more than 400 policy and personnel advisors across almost 20 issue areas, from arts and culture to housing to transit and beyond.

And he only came to power through grassroots organizing, where ordinary people like you and me voted, volunteered, got involved because they knew they deserved better. (And the same people will hold him accountable, too).

This is a glimmer, a signal, of other possibilities.

The proof that a different way of being is in fact possible.

So whether you’re into resolutions or vision boards or bingo cards for your personal life, I wonder:

This year, I look forward to committing to my art and creative expression, so expect to hear from me a lot more often, with invitations to play in new storyworlds and formats.

And yes, another digital simulation is in the works, though I’m still working out the core scenario proposal. (Reply or comment with your suggestions!)

Below you’ll find info for some fun January activities!

Exploring other timeline possibilities with you,
Alicia

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Speaking of other possibilities…

Thank you so much to all who attended last month’s Speculative Budgeting Lab. We’ll be sharing it publicly next week, and hosting a free Zoom session to present it, highlight key differences from the real one, and potential implications and opportunities moving forward.

More details coming soon!

Hopeful Speculations Book Club

I’ve been wanting to host a space to read speculative fiction in community, that specifically explores other possibilities in the past, present and future(s).

So I’m pleased to be joined by my new friend Morgan Bath to cohost a bimonthly book club in collaboration with the Department of Imaginary Affairs, where we’ll unpack themes and character arcs, but also play with different futures methods.

To honour the quiet winter vibe, we’re kicking things off with an uber cozy yet still insightful read of the Monk and Robot duology. This is a series of two novellas (so two very short novels) and is delightfully light reading.

We’ll meet online on Wednesday January 28th at 6pm.

Register here to join us for free.

And read more about the book(s) here.

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Every year, Canada (and every other country around the world) releases a federal budget that quietly — and sometimes loudly — shapes the conditions of our lives. It signals what our government values, what it believes should grow, and what it’s willing to let wither. Budgets, for better or worse, are stories of the future told in numbers.

And this year’s story feels… off.

If you’ve been watching the commentary, the confusion, the contradictions, or the celebratory press releases that don’t quite match the lived realities around us, you may be feeling a bit disoriented. Or frustrated. Or tired. Or maybe all of the above.

I’ve been sitting with all of those feelings too.

There’s something unsettling about reading multi-billion-dollar allocations that don’t reflect the kind of future so many of us are trying to build — a future grounded in climate justice, care, equity, creativity, and community resilience. (Definitely not one rooted in false solutions and denial!)

Budgets can feel like they belong to someone else: opaque, far away, locked behind jargon and parliamentary rituals.

But here’s the thing:

It answers the question: What do we owe each other?
And more importantly: What future are we choosing to fund?

When we don’t see ourselves or our values in that document, it’s an invitation — maybe even an obligation — to imagine alternatives.

After all, it’s OUR taxes that make a national budget possible in the first place!

That’s where The Buck Starts Here comes in.

I want to create a space where we can slow down, step back, and unpack what this year’s budget actually contains (in human language, not policy-speak). Then, together, we’ll do something that is equal parts playful and radical: co-create our own speculative budget.

Not a perfect budget.
Not a politically “realistic” one.
A values-driven, community-generated imagining of what funding could look like if we centered care, equity, climate action, and long-term thriving.

I was inspired both by my friend Aliya Khondker, who will be co-hosting these sessions with me, as well as the Canadian Centre for Policy Alternative’s Alternative Federal Budget 2026 (a much more detailed beast than what we’ll co-create, but very inspiring nonetheless!)

During the workshop, each participant will receive a symbolic $100 (million) to allocate across the priorities that matter most to them. Afterwards, we’ll tally the data, reflect on emerging patterns, and publish our collective speculative budget as a response to the federal one.

This is a small experiment — a way of reclaiming imagination in a moment where public discourse feels so narrow and polarized. But it’s also a reminder that we are not powerless observers of policy. We are storytellers of possible futures. And our visions deserve a budget line.

If this resonates with you, I’d love for you to join us.
Two virtual sessions, open to anyone across Canada (friends abroad always welcome, just FYI this conversation will be dripping in maple syrup).

• Session 1: December 9th at 6pm EST

• Session 2: December 13th at 1:30pm EST

Bring your questions, your curiosity, and your vision of what our money could be doing.

Let’s rethink the budget.
Let’s rebuild the story.
The buck starts here.

See you soon!

Alicia

The pressure is mounting.

This moment feels even more dire and unprecedented than the events of the last 5+ years.

At the end of a summer of record heat waves and wildfires, broken environmental promises by the new Canadian government, a descent into full blown fascism in the US, and ongoing genocides in Palestine, Congo, Sudan, Tigray…

It’s not a stretch to say that we are all overwhelmed, already stretched thin, already in personal crises of different shades.

Despair is easy.

But then my lungs fill up again, and I realize I was holding my breath.

In a quiet moment, I feel my heart beating.

I get caught off guard with something that makes me laugh (truly the best medicine).

Then I remember the future.

One where we’ve reconnected with Nature.

One where we’ve reconciled for past atrocities, made good on transformative justice.

One where we take care of each other in economies rooted in wellbeing.

One where technology is focused on easing life for all, not amassing wealth for a few.

One where we all have time to rest, play, connect, serve.

One where we did all we could to mitigate disaster, and invested in resilience.

These visions of a better world keep me going, in hopes that we can make at least some part of it happen.

Because hope is natural—not automatic or even easy—but in our nature.

How do we tap into that hope when we’re overwhelmed by the imaginations of those in power?

Doing something.

It is effort that transmutes fear into defiant hope—not a feeling, but hope as a practice, a discipline.

As Dorothy Height said,

“I want to be remembered as one who tried.”

Because it is only the effort of a small few that has changed the world from epoch to epoch.

The 3.5% Rule

Research has shown that civil resistance by ordinary people is the most powerful way to shape world politics. And it only takes around 3.5% of the population to engage in resistance to ensure real change.

That means that while our number may be small, it is significant.

All we need is 3.5%.

All we need is community.

And it’s also true that the effort is an end in itself.

Old systems are thrashing around on their way out and we want to compost them, make soil for the new. And our effort is essential to making that change.

But tying our idea of “success” to some predefined outcome would also be an exercise in futility.

As Cole Arthur Riley (Black Liturgies) puts it:

By trying we stay true ourselves.

Like the sole individuals who have been showing up every day in protest of the many atrocities of the day, we take action to live in integrity. To be able to look back without shame.

It reminds me of a late night conversation I had with my cohort in grad school (i.e. ecological economics nerds). Someone posed the question:

“What if we fail?”

What it if after all this effort and strife, we fail to change the world? Would you stay on your current path?

For some of us, this was easier to answer than others, and opened up some lively debate.

I remember agreeing with the side that said yes, we would continue even if we knew we would fail. I don’t recall the details of my argument at the time, but I know that today the answer is still yes for me now.

Yes, because I refuse to sacrifice my own humanity in the face of fear.

Yes, because I know that the future is never a single story or outcome.

Yes, because even if we end up in the apocalypse that dominates our mainstream narratives, I don’t want to let that outside reality change my inside world—my heart, my soul, my appetite for justice.

Yes, because I want to be remembered as one who tried.

Showing up to last weekend’s Draw the Line march was one meaningful step for me to transmute the fear and helplessness into a powerful reinvigoration of my hope. To be moving in community and raising our voices—that was medicine.

(As is returning finally to this newsletter.)

Happy Autumn!

Let’s continue hold on to each other’s humanity.

P.S. Thank you so much to everyone who engaged in the World Without Internet Simulation. I was so inspired by the weekly scenario responses and the debrief session we held virtually to process the experience.

That session in fact inspired me to explore running a cli-fi prototyping workshop focused on what tools and tech we would need if we were given the opportunity rebuild the internet in the image of our values.

I’m going to be testing this out at next week’s We Create Our Futures festival as part of the first ever Toronto Climate Week.

If you’re in Toronto, come explore in our Analog Futures Lab, and check out the rest of the festival on the evening of October 1st at CSI Spadina. Use my code “ANALOG” for a sweet discount on your ticket :)

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You remember the heat, the scramble, the call to dig and defend. You remember the quiet resolve of the ones who stayed behind. Thanks to your efforts, the fire break has held, the flames have subsided, and scorched hills now frame new beginnings.

Makeshift radio towers hum with static-and-code.

Families gather in parks turned pop-up schools.

Local greenhouses have replaced fragile food supply chains.

A few DIY local area networks are slowly bringing some digital communications back.

Yet “recovery” still looks different without the internet. There are no centralized updates, no clean blueprints to download. Everything must be remade, by voice, by consensus.

The crisis forced people to step up — and stay. And you’ve been part of this movement, shaping its culture, offering your labour, ideas, or support.

But now, with the basics stabilizing, a new divide emerges.

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Two Visions. One Crossroads.

In the heart of town — once a school gym, now a civic forum — two new camps have emerged on the topic of recovery.

One group wants to restore what was lost.

They dream of reinstating the systems that once kept order: banks, courts, a mayor’s office. They're sourcing printed textbooks, eyeing long-dormant municipal plans, even debating how to reestablish taxes and elections.

"We need a return to structure," they say. "We can’t live in improvisation forever."

The other group isn’t so sure.

They’ve spent these weeks prototyping a different way of life — community gardens, peer-to-peer barter systems, decentralized mesh networks powered by salvaged tech. For them, the collapse was an opportunity.

"Why rebuild the world that failed us?" they ask. "Why not start over — and do better?"

Your name is already on two whiteboards — one for organizing food distribution, one for a neighborhood LAN network expansion. You’re part of both conversations. And as talk turns to elections, land allocation, even the idea of a new constitution, a choice is pressing in:

Will you fight to rebuild the old world — or help prototype a new one?

There’s no clean break between the two. You can admire the efficiencies of the past while distrusting who they served. You can crave stability while dreaming of justice. But eventually, the visions will diverge.

And your decision will shape not just your future, but the foundation for whoever comes next.

Signed,
Dispatch Control

Time for the final dilemma input survey

What future will you build?

Please respond by Thursday to have your input compiled for our debrief on Friday.

Register to join us

New to the simulation?

Check out the Opening Scenario and earlier Dilemmas, then come back here:

✍️ Weekly Artifact Prompt

Blueprints from the Brink

In the wake of collapse, you’ve been asked to contribute to the foundation of what comes next.

This week, we want you to imagine yourself in that gymnasium-turned-town-hall, invited to present one artifact that captures your vision for the future — a manifesto, a tool, a tradition, a symbol, a proposal, or a warning.

(If you feel called to share, tag us on Instagram @theclimateverse with the hashtag #WorldWithoutInternet)

Read more

Ash on the wind.

A darkened horizon.

A strange taste in the air.

An unusual irritation in your nose, throat.

The fire isn’t here yet—but it seems to be quickly on its way.

What’s not clear is how fast, how close or how bad.

There are no emergency notifications.

No evacuation routes posted. Without the internet, the apps, the fire maps, most of the text alerts—all silent.

The messages that do come through the few, still functioning cellular networks, are varied and confusing.

Rumours pierce the otherwise silence:

“It’s already reached the valley.”

“There’s a back road still open, but you’ll need fuel.”

“They’re blocking exits unless you’ve paid.”

“It’s just smoke drift. No need to panic.”

Some neighbours are already packing. Others say that they’re staying put.

Your new partners in the UCCR camp (you didn’t all move in, but came to a mutually beneficial arrangement exchanging food and some tech support)—now say that they are picking up fire dispatches on a shortwave radio.

The message: imminent blazes are coming to town.

Time to Respond

The camp welcomes the rest of your community to move into their fireproofed camp, but they will not allow a.single.person.more.

Mass hysteria and chaos are erupting around you, and clearly folks outside of your local pod also need help.

The choices are fracturing again — but this time, so is the land.

So what will you do?

• Take care of yourself and your pod, and flee to the safe camp?

• Stay behind and try to help set up fire breaks to protect the whole town?

• Try to force the camp to welcome more evacuees?

Enter your decision now:

Weigh In!

Signed,
Dispatch Control

Subscribe now

Who would you wish you could bring in to help deliberate? Call them in!

Share

We’re almost at the end of this simulation!

Don’t forget, we’ll be debriefing the whole experience together in a free workshop at the end of next week!

Friday June 20th at noon EDT

New to the simulation?

Check out the Opening Scenario and earlier Dilemmas, then come back here:

✍️ Weekly Artifact Prompt

Build the last-mile alert system.
Sketch, describe, or prototype a low-tech emergency alert system your neighborhood could use to prepare for disasters in a post-internet world.

(If you feel called to share, tag us on Instagram @theclimateverse with the hashtag #WorldWithoutInternet)

Read more

So, you’ve decided to reach out to the gated community and focus on collaboration to secure resources.

(Another 100%, though one quarter of survey respondents were more concerned with safety than resources)

Great choice!

With the abrupt crash of the Internet, global supply chains have been in free fall.

For the seemingly 100th day in a row, you wake up hungry.

Your pantry is down to its very last can.

At the local store, shelves are bare, delivery trucks stopped arriving weeks ago, and no one knows when—or if—they’ll return.

Before the blackout, apps told you where food was, how much it cost, how long until it arrived. Now, you rely on word of mouth and handwritten notes posted at community centers.

Thankfully, your community mutual aid network makes sure that you never go to sleep hungry—you get just enough calories to keep going.

Shared community plots have been thriving, though it hasn’t been quite enough to get enough food for everyone. To feel truly full again.

So, you join the envoy group that seeks out the fortress-style camp.

There must be a way to collaborate, and get enough food for everyone.

So with equal parts caution and determination, you approach what appears to be their front barricade…

A Surprising Proposal

Behind their newly reinforced walls, you come upon the most lush urban farm you’ve ever set your eyes on.

Apparently, their leaders have a connection to a reliable potash source another region away.

Large, lush and full peppers, zucchini, tomatoes, carrots, kale…huge strawberries and peach and nectarine trees almost ready for harvesting.

You struggle to keep it together as you’re brought in to meet with their leadership team with your proposal: there are a few chemists and pharmacists in your group who could help to make old fashioned medicines, tinctures, salves and the like.

With healthcare systems struggling, you know it should be an attractive offer, not to mention all the labour your community could provide in exchange for food and safety.

—

Without missing a beat, their leader offered a counter-proposal:

You depart the compound to take the offer back to the rest of the community.

You have to decide:

Will you round up the computer engineers to support this work in exchange for food and more secure shelter?

What freedoms might you be giving away in the deal?

What kinds of surveillance and control might you be contributing to?

Sound Off

Signed,
Dispatch Control

Who would you wish you could bring in to help deliberate? Call them in!

Share

New to the simulation?

Check out the Opening Scenario and Dilemmas then come back here:

And don’t forget, we’ll be debriefing the whole experience together in a free workshop at the end of the month!

Register now

✍️ Weekly Artifact Prompt

Create a job posting for a needed skillset in this future.

What skills do you prioritize? What gaps do you need to fill? How might traditional “work” roles change in the world?

(If you feel called to share, tag us on Instagram @theclimateverse with the hashtag #WorldWithoutInternet)

Read more

So you’ve decided to keep to yourself, nevermind the Unified Collective for Civil Restoration (UCCR), the government, or even this new mysterious Analog Futures group.

Waiting to see how things pan out.

(100% based on last week’s input survey!)

Around you, however, the information divide continues to fracture communities.

It’s been a couple months now with no internet. No longer a shock, it’s becoming a way of life.

The world hasn’t ended, but it’s gotten smaller.

Neighbourhoods have become islands.

You can feel your mind clearing from the internet-era dopamine addiction, but heightened alertness in a world with no more alerts quickly replaces the pull on your mental energy.

In your area, a small mutual aid network has formed–people pooling tools, food, knowledge.

It’s fragile but growing. It’s giving you a sense of purpose and community.

…

Not far away, a heavily guarded camp has gone dark.

Word is they’ve blocked the roads, turned people away, and have managed to become heavily armed. Some say they’re hoarding, others say they’re organized, clearly part of the UCCR crew.

A few of your neighbours want to approach–propose a trade, or even a merger of resources with them. Others warn that it’s too dangerous.

“We don’t really know their values,” someone says. “How can we trust them? They chose fear, and so far, we’ve chosen care.”

But resources are thinning. (Our highly digitized global supply chains have churned to a stop in the face of no internet and local food systems are struggling to keep up.)

What would you have to give up in exchange for their resources and so-called safety?

Security is a growing concern. And as the situation continues, the lines between safety and scarcity become blurry.

You have to decide:

Do you advocate reaching out—or walling off?
Do you prepare to defend, or to collaborate?
Where is the line between safety and scarcity?

What will it be?

Signed,
Dispatch Control

Who would you wish were part of your community/huddle in this situation?
Bring them in!

Share

New to the simulation?

Check out the Opening Scenario and Dilemma #1:

✍️ Weekly Artifact Prompt

Design a “community charter” for a post-internet neighborhood.

What values do you uphold? What rules keep people safe? What trade-offs must be made?

(If you feel called to share, tag us on Instagram @theclimateverse with the hashtag #WorldWithoutInternet)

Read more

You wake up each day, hoping for a ping, a post, anything—but the web stays silent. The feeds are gone, and with them the alerts, the updates, the constant hum of the world online.

The libraries are open, but even there you can’t get access to any information besides the print collection and digital archives.

“It might as well all be catalogued as ancient history,” you think to yourself.

In the absence of answers, the streets start talking.

Flyers appear on lampposts.

Chalk scrawls spread along sidewalks.

Graffiti on walls.

Monologues and debates on street corners and park gazebos.

Even text chains spring up, because the aunties and uncles still have insanely long messages to share, WhatsApp or not.

Someone down the street sets up a bulletin board titled “The Truth Wall,” now filled with what’s sure to be a healthy blend of conspiracy theories, appeals for help, offers of support and actual truth.

…

Then, one night, you pick up a voice on the radio you traded your favourite jacket for.

It’s clearer than anything you’ve heard since the collapse — calm, composed, rehearsed, and great audio quality.

The speaker claims to represent the Unified Collective for Civil Restoration (UCCR).

The UCCR claims to have a recovery plan. They’re rolling out printed updates, community rationing systems, even safety patrols.

But there’s one condition.

They ask everyone to stop sharing unofficial information—information not verified by the official UCCR channels. Followers must adhere to their content guidelines, and shut down and report any dissidents.

…

You’re finally able to call your parents regularly, after fishing out your old 3G cell phone and trading for a compatible charging cord.

Since they have cable TV, they’re able to share official government messages with you, which keep getting hacked off the radio airwaves, and destroyed wherever they show up in print.

The UCCR folks have also taken over a local TV station, where they refute all claims of restoration efforts by the government.

They claim it’s a conspiracy to keep citizens docile and compliant. To justify the increased police presence everywhere.

But the UCCR offers “people power,” encouraging locals to become vigilantes, so long as they follow the UCCR mandate of “localized” resource monitoring and government spying.

…

Some in your neighborhood welcome the order. Others whisper that this feels more like control.

Tensions rise between those (with cable) who believe the government, and others who flock to the strong personality leadership of the UCCR.

You’re caught in the middle.

You could amplify the UCCR’s message, and secure your safety — but at what cost? Or you could follow the official government line of internet restoration, clinging onto the last thread of hope you could muster that things will ever get back to normal.

…

When you wake up the following morning, there’s a pamphlet under your door.

A secret transmission from an Analog Futures group.

They map out a route to peace, prosperity and connection, without ever getting fully back online like before…

What will you do?

3 min input survey

We’ll meet you here again next week — if the radios stay on.

In the meantime, share your input by Friday!

Signed,
Dispatch Control

Now joining us? Read through the Opening Scenario here:

✍️Weekly Artifact Prompt

Draft the contents of an information pamphlet in this information void.

Will your pamphlet reflect the message of the government, the UCCR, or Analog Futures? Or something/someone else entirely?

(If you feel called to share, tag us on Instagram @theclimateverse with the hashtag #WorldWithoutInternet.)

Read more

The year is 2042.

Perhaps your day is now starting, or it’s coming into full swing, but something has felt off since you opened your eyes this morning.

You reached for your phone, as you usually do, to play games, or check social media, but the feed wouldn’t load.

“Argh, [Instagram/Twitter/YouTube] is down again,” you grumbled to yourself as you got your morning [coffee/tea] sorted.

But you’ve been up for a couple of hours now, and it still hasn’t been resolved. Your emails aren’t refreshing in your mobile inbox either (*except this one. Ironic, we know*).

In fact, you can’t find any information about what’s going on as even Google itself seems to be down.

Quickly you pace to your computer to pull up a local news site, but instead of relief you just get one “Error” message after another.

You text your best friend–<Hello?! Can you read this??>

Instant response: <Yes, but text directly, Signal will probably crash too.>

<What the hell is going on?!>

….

This isn’t the kind of blackout you expected.

Your lights are on, your refrigerator is humming its usual droll. You have power. Electricity.

You can reheat your now cold coffee in the microwave, no problem.

But no internet?! A complete internet shutdown.

How?

It wasn’t just one event.

In early spring, a series of massive solar flares erupted — stronger than any previously recorded or forecasted.

Earth's magnetic shields buckled.

Global satellites glitched, fried, and fell silent.

Fiber optic cables, power stations, server farms — all left vulnerable to surges and cascading failures.

Within hours, the internet — the spine of modern life — collapsed.

Some urban centers are managing partial local networks for now — closed-loop intranets in hospitals, military bases, certain governments.

But it won’t hold.

The damage is too deep, too global, too fast.

What led to the crisis

The internet, from its early development in the 60’s to the establishment of the World Wide Web in 1991 was nonprofit, decentralized and open source (shoutout: Tim Berners-Lee).

Commercialization in the 90s to the early 2000s saw the US privatize the backbone of the internet, followed by the dotcom boom where businesses flooded the web and web portals and search engines (Yahoo!, AOL) began shaping how users accessed the internet.

The rise of Web 2.0 starting in 2004 heralded the age of user-generated content, social media, and mobile apps.

Platforms like Facebook, Google, Amazon, and Apple became gatekeepers. Business models shifted from products to surveillance capitalism: offering free services in exchange for data, then monetizing attention and behavior.

Content algorithms, cloud computing, and mobile ecosystems further centralized control into a handful of tech giants.

Now, since the 2010s, a small number of internet service providers (ISPs), cloud providers and data centers host most of the web.

And since the mid-2020s we’ve seen them tighten their grip while cowing down to growing fascist and authoritarian movements.

Who is most affected?

• Highly Connected Economies & Urban Centers: Toronto, New York, London, Hong Kong — where infrastructure depends most on digital systems — will suffer immediate logistical nightmares from economic paralysis, halted supply chains, disrupted services.
  

• Rural Areas in Connected Nations: Cut off from essential supply chains, many lack the means to coordinate aid. Farmers and small-scale producers using smart agriculture tech; students dependent on online schooling; rural health providers using telemedicine…the impacts range from isolation and loss of access to services to delays in information flow (weather alerts, market prices, health resources) at the outset.
  

• Small Island Nations: Once reliant on instant weather alerts, disaster planning, and trade — are now left exposed to the elements.

• Global South Economies Dependent on Digital Access: (e.g. India, Brazil, Nigeria, Philippines, Kenya, Indonesia, etc.). There will be loss of income for millions of informal workers; collapse of fintech solutions used in unbanked communities; major setbacks in development and digital equity progress.

• Young Generations Globally: Gen Z and younger Millennials who have never lived offline and students relying on digital learning and social media will face impacts like: identity crisis, psychological distress; education collapse in places with no analog backup; loss of connection to community and purpose.

The dangers

• Communication breakdowns: Without instant messaging or mass alerts, misinformation may spread faster than any truth could catch it.

• Economic collapse: Digital banking will essentially evaporate, freezing entire currencies.

• Medical crises: Hospitals risk losing patient records, supply chain ordering systems, specialized equipment relying on cloud software.

• Food and water scarcity: With no online coordination, distribution will become a brutal, hyper-local scramble.

• Civil unrest: Some communities may fracture into distrust and violence. Others will rally around mutual aid.
  

Far more powerful than any popular “digital detox” program, we are realizing that we are way too locked in to the web as a society to just “go analog.”

Sacrifices and difficult decisions abound

🧍‍♀️ Personal Choices: Individuals face the choice of whether they will lean into community or self-isolate.

What sources of information will you trust? How will you share or hoard or grow your food supplies? What might work and labour in a world without internet look like for you?

👨‍👩‍👧‍👦 Family Decisions: Families must decide whether stay put or to leave in search of greener pastures, risking falling into a worse situation.

With widespread school disruptions and no digital alternatives, will you homeschool your children or collaborate with others to rebuild a newly analog hyperlocal education system?

🧑‍🤝‍🧑 Community Adjustments: Local leaders must choose between deepened (and more chaotic) collaborative governance models, or sharpened lines of command to maintain order.

What new offline methods of communication can be reasonably managed and vetted? Will mutual aid networks grow in size and strength or close ranks to protect dwindling resources?

🏛️ Government Dilemmas: Policymakers wrestle with the practicalities of more decentralized governance structures while still needing to exercise oversight in the allocation of scarce resources to meet the needs of vulnerable populations.

Do governments crack down to maintain order — or support grassroots organizing and decentralized resilience? In efforts to maintain safety, do authorities push for analog ID checks, block travel, or allow more local autonomy? How would they rebuild an economy with no internet?

🌍 Societal Shifts: Society as a whole must decide whether to embrace a new paradigm of localized, decentralized webs in the effort to rebuild the digital sphere. Activist groups push for a new digital compact that centers connection over commercialization, but corporate groups push to rebuild infrastructure with tighter security protocols for protection, promising better economic advantages for everyone.

Will major internet-reliant corporations die out — or evolve into new public utility models? Do countries collaborate to create new communication pathways — or turn inward and tighten borders?

You now stand at the crossroads of these choices.

Each week for the next 5 weeks, you’ll face a new Dilemma drawn from these fractures and tensions.

Your instincts, decisions, and reflections will shape the story we create together.

The first step?

Complete the Dilemma Input Form

2 minute survey

By filling it out, you’ll:

• Unpack and share your emotional reactions to this unfolding crisis.

• Reflect on your personal skills and strategies.

• Help us surface the big questions and tensions shaping the weeks ahead.

Subscribing brought you into the story.
This survey shapes the roads you’ll walk next.

We’ll meet you here again next week — if the radios stay on.

Signed,
Dispatch Control

✍️Weekly Artifact Prompt

Write a journal entry reflecting on your first day with no internet.

(If you feel called to share, tag us on Instagram @theclimateverse with the hashtag #WorldWithoutInternet.)

Read more

The digital grid has fallen.
The rules of survival are changing. Fast.

Imagine waking up tomorrow to a world with no internet. No GPS. No social media. No streaming news, no easy answers. Markets are in freefall. Communications systems are in chaos.

The only information left? Fragmented whispers.

Static.

What you can piece together on your own.

This is not a test.
This is the beginning.

You’re invited to step into a future on the brink of a certain kind of collapse—and make decisions that will shape the world to come.

Subscribe now

🌐 Welcome to A World Without Internet.

In the year 2032, a massive solar flare triggers a cascading failure in global satellite networks and undersea cables, causing a prolonged and extensive internet blackout across much of the world. Connectivity is unstable, fragmented, and highly localized.

Over the next 6 weeks, you’ll journey through a series of dilemmas inside a collapsing system.

Each week, you’ll face new decisions:

• Can you trust a charismatic leader when there’s no way to verify their promises?

• What will you risk when food, water, and safety become scarce?

• How far would you go to rebuild—or to survive?
  
  

What to Expect:

⚡ Weekly Dilemmas:
Fresh transmissions every week based on real global disruption drivers—testing your values, decisions, and survival instincts.

⚡ Interactive Response Surveys:
Submit your reactions, decisions, questions and ideas after each story.

⚡ Collective Impact:
Your insights will help shape the evolving world we’re building together.

⚡ Weekly Artifact Prompts :
(Paid subscriber bonus) a creative mini-challenge designed to help you document your journey, explore emotional reactions, and contribute to the evolving simulation. Think: audio/video logs, journal entries, doodles/sketches, or even field notes from the future.

⚡ Live Community Debrief :
After the final dilemma, we’ll meet virtually to debrief the experience and explore what it might reveal about our present and our possible futures. Register here.

Why Step In?

🔥 Test Your Values under pressure.
🔥 See How Others Navigate uncertain terrain.
🔥 Shape a Collective Story about the futures we might inherit—or invent.

We launch next week.

All you need to do today is be ready—and subscribed—to receive the first transmission.

💥 Subscribe Now to Begin.
👉

Subscribe now

Who would you want by your side?

Spring is here, and with it, the true beginning of the year.

I’ve been learning to embrace a more seasonal approach to life and work, so while January is still a time for goal-setting and winter hibernation/deep work, Spring is when things really come alive. The air shifts, the days stretch, and everything feels a little more possible.

I just returned from Trinidad & Tobago, my forever home and the home of Carnival, and the energy of it is still pulsing through my veins. If you’ve ever experienced it, you know: Carnival is not just a party. It’s a portal. A world-building exercise in joy and liberation, a space where people step outside the everyday and into something freer, something more expansive. For a few days, the weight of the world is lifted, and we get a glimpse of what it might feel like to live in a world designed for pleasure, for play, for belonging.

Jouvert/jouvay, the purest expression of the now glitzy and glamourous parade, is the official start of the Mas (read: masquerade), and for many, the official start of the new year.

That energy has stayed with me. And it’s made me think about futures of joy and liberation—what it means to design not just for resilience or survival, but for collective thriving. Too often, our conversations about the future get stuck in crisis mode. With political turmoil escalating in the US, Canada, and across the world, it feels like we’re constantly bracing for the next disaster, the next wave of instability. But what about futures where we don’t just make it through, but dance our way forward? What about futures where radical celebration is a tool for transformation?

So, as I step into this new year, I’m recommitting to something simple but important: showing up consistently here, writing these logs, sharing what I’m thinking, making, and questioning.

[The website newsletter will focus more on monthly news: upcoming events, workshops, opportunities to work together, etc.]

In the meantime, here you can expect from me:

🌍 Dispatch from the Bridge – Weekly personal reflections on the practice of worldbuilding and futures thinking.
📡 Dispatch from Other Dimensions – Monthly speculative dispatches from alternate realities, glimpses of futures that could be.

This space—this interdimensional portal—is a place to experiment, reflect, and build the future in real time. And I want you in the conversation.

What’s bringing you joy right now? What does a future of liberation look like to you? Drop a comment. Let’s make this a space where we dream loudly.

Leave a comment

More soon,

Alicia

The Climateverse is pleased to be hosting an open All We Can Save reading circle to kick off the new year.

If you’re interested in inching into the new year with ease while spaciously exploring the possibilities that still remain for climate action, then the circle is the place for you!

Kind of like a book club, but slower and deeper, Circles use the anthology to ground a 10-session, small-group experience that thousands have enjoyed.

About the anthology:

Intermixing essays with poetry and art, this book is both a balm and a guide for knowing and holding what has been done to the world, while bolstering our resolve never to give up on each other or our collective future. We must summon truth, courage, and solutions, to turn away from the brink and toward life-giving possibility. Curated by two climate leaders, this book is a collection and celebration of visionaries who are leading us on a path toward all we can save.

Our circle will meet weekly starting next Monday, January 13th from 6-7:30pm EST online via Zoom.

This program is free to attend, once you purchase or borrow a copy of the book (no pre-reading required ahead of Session 1!)

In each session, we’ll dive into selected readings that explore the intersection of climate justice, hope, and collective action. Through thoughtful discussion, participants will share insights, deepen their understanding, and build a shared vision for the future. This circle is about empowering each other, fostering resilience, and translating knowledge into action in our communities and beyond.

If this sounds interesting, please register at the link below! Spots are very limited to maintain small group intimacy through the experience (some spots already filled).

Register Now

All of the details can be found in the registration form. Once submitted, you’ll be added to the calendar invite (space-permitting) and receive a welcome email.

If we run out of spots, or if our schedule doesn’t work for you, check out the full list of open Circles being hosted this winter here, with varying dates and cadences.

Hopefully, we’ll see you soon!

And either way, stay tuned for other 2025 updates in The Climateverse!

REGISTER HERE

As we inch closer to the end of 2024, I find myself reflecting on how much has transformed—not just in the world, but in my own journey. Today, I’m thrilled to share the next evolution of The Climateverse and reintroduce its purpose to you all.

🚀 How It Started

The Climateverse began as a side project—an experimental storytelling space where I imagined a parallel dimension where humanity took bold, transformative climate action. It was a passion project alongside my work as a freelance sustainability and climate justice consultant—helping organizations align strategies with the UN SDGs and supporting communities in advocating for climate justice.

But as I dove deeper into futures and foresight through the NGFP Fellowship, I realized that everything I do is about “futuring.” Sustainability is inherently about imagining better possibilities—and then working to bring them to life. This perspective reshaped not just my mindset but also the core focus of The Climateverse.

🌟 Where We Are Now

Today, I’m excited to share that The Climateverse is no longer just a storytelling experiment. It’s grown into a transformation lab and creative production studio at the intersection of futures, storytelling, and climate justice.

Here’s what we do now:

• Strategic & Creative Advisory Services: We help mission-driven organizations align their vision with futures thinking and sustainability.

• Immersive Workshops: Engaging communities to radically imagine and co-create climate-just futures.

• Community-Centered Productions & Events: From storytelling projects to participatory zines, we’re sparking meaningful climate conversations.

🔭 Looking Ahead

The journey is just beginning. Here’s what’s on the horizon for The Climateverse:

1. A New Look for Our Flagship Newscast: You might have noticed the heading of this substack changing to the Dispatch from Other Dimensions. Relaunching with a new look in 2025, this project is going video-first on platforms like YouTube, Instagram and TikTok.

2. The Launch of Futurescapes: Our zine inspired by the UN Summit of the Future is coming soon, and in fact you’re the first to know that it’s coming December 5th! More details coming soon.

3. Community Engagement: We’re also excited to lean into more workshops and events for our growing community, starting with this Toronto Youth Climate Negotiation Simulation: a COP29 Debrief on December 7th.

4. Visionary Partnerships: We’re eager to collaborate with organizations ready to center futures and foresight in their strategic planning, sustainability, and impact work, so get in touch if that’s you!

Not so side note:

I also recently relaunched The Climateverse website to reflect and hold this vision.
Check it out and let me know what you think! 🌟

What’s happening with this Substack?

Truth be told, I’m still working that out.

With the Dispatch from Other Dimensions going video forward, the main Climateverse website can hold transcriptions the way this space has held the written version of the stories.

I do still think there’s great value in a newsletter, to keep you informed on upcoming events and opportunities, share my own learnings and reflections, as well as other storytelling projects.

Long story short, we’re probably going to move to a more traditional monthly newsletter format and platform, but I’ll keep you updated about if/when the shift officially starts.

I may even keep this channel as a place for more personal reflections, or fiction writing development. If you have other ideas, let me know!

You’ll likely hear from me at least one more time before the end of the year, but in the meantime, I just want to say thank you so much. For supporting the vision, for joining these early stages of the project, for trusting and believing in me and everything that The Climateverse stands for.

Together, we can spark meaningful change and imagine the climate-just futures we all deserve.

With gratitude,

Alicia