At the Museum of the Agreed Future will we consume timely and relevant content, appropriate to our particular wants and needs.
At the Museum of the Agreed Future we will spend our days trying to remember everything we have lost.
At the Museum of the Agreed Future all public gatherings of more than five people will be prohibited, except in the case of pre-approved spontaneous comings-together of singing or dancing crowds for e.g. the filming of mobile phone adverts.
At the Museum of the Agreed Future, which will be built on reclaimed, poisoned land, we will never be more than six feet from the possibility of ecological disaster. The soft estuary mud will lap at the reinforced pilings. Our moored boats will shift and jostle like nervous cattle on the rising tide.
As we shift and jostle in front of the many oversubscribed exhibits inside the museum. At the Museum of the Agreed Future the timely and relevant content will come in many meaningful and useful formats. It will be driven by deep and rich insights into our lives, our hopes, our desires, our many secret sadnesses.
At the Museum of the Agreed Future the following brand identifiers will be trademarked and may not be used in digital, social, broadcast or printed communications: desire, hope, sadness, despair, fear.
At the Museum of the Agreed Future we will be forbidden from gazing out of the long picture windows between the hours of 9AM and 4PM.
Gazing in no particular direction. Gazing with no particular aim.
At the Museum of the Agreed Future acceptable subjects for discussion will include: the technological sublime, the infrastructural sublime, the transport sublime, the business park sublime, the theme park sublime, the car park sublime, the surgical sublime, the pornographic sublime, the surveillance sublime.
Gazing will be allowed between the hours of 4PM and sunset, when the museum will close. Seats will be provided.
At the Museum of the Agreed Future the sunsets will be remarkable.
At the Museum of the Agreed Future all discussions of the sublime will be recorded and will become the sole property of the museum management.
At the Museum of the Agreed Future we will try to remember what it was about each other that we once found so appropriate, so right, as we watch the broad, raw skies scrub the day clean.
You used to like my hands, and the way I made you laugh. I reminded you of your father. Something like that.
At the Museum of the agreed future everything will make sense.
Finally, at last, everything will make sense.
[Originally published in “It Wasn’t My Fault”]