As he headed home, Bhagwan was forced away from the shoreline by a fence enclosing a massive area of coastal mangrove forest marked for the expansion of Navīna Padārtha, a cutting-edge fish cloning company that promised to revolutionise the sustainable seafood industry.

(Shoreline View)

Anger swirled inside Bhagwan.

Although Navīna Padārtha had given him a job to supplement his dwindling fishing income, he had been left little choice as the factory’s presence impacted the mangrove forests and the coast’s biodiversity.

As part of the original inhabitants of the many fishing villages along the coast, Bhagwan had once totally relied on the mangrove ecosystems for his food and income. Overfishing, warming sea temperatures, coastal erosion, and poor waste management had pushed the mangrove forests to a critical state, reducing fish stocks and deteriorating other aquatic species that were vital to maintaining the marine ecosystem, ultimately affecting all the coastal fishing communities, from the fishermen to the women processing and selling the fish.

As protectors of the coast and its biodiversity, the disappearance of the mangroves meant worsening extreme weather events would inflict even further damage upon the coastline that would not only affect the local fishing communities, but also the newcomers developing and inhabiting the wider region.

When Kumar Chandekar, the CEO and Founder of Navīna Padārtha, first proposed its expansion, Bhagwan joined the Mangrove Agency to protect the mangroves by arguing that while fish cloning solutions could help with food security, they could not sufficiently reduce biodiversity loss because cloned animals were mandated to be sterile. Like all new technologies, fish cloning’s true potential to help humanity would be lost in big business’s rush to commercialise it as fast and as wide as possible, and it would most likely profit corporations rather than small businesses and fishing communities.

After some initial success at raising awareness, Bhagwan’s and the Agency’s efforts were neutralised by the city’s excitement about becoming leaders in the cloned seafood industry, and Navīna Padārtha’s expansion was approved.

This filled Bhagwan with a burning resentment for the local government, and for the wider community who were so quick to ignore the needs of the coastal ecosystem and the original fishing communities.

What Navīna Padārtha did promise the local fishing communities was jobs and income.

In the end, Bhagwan did what he had to do to survive—he reluctantly took a job at Navīna Padārtha.

But his choice slowly ate him from the inside, the knowledge that he was now part of the destruction of the sacred mangroves eroded something in his own soul that once thrived. His resentment and anger consumed him night and day, slowly distorting his sense of right and wrong.

As he left behind the fenced mangroves, he passed the entrance to Navīna Padārtha’s main factory.

“Hurry up Bhagwan,” called Kumar Chandekar from inside the gate. He was personally supervising two workers stabilising a large sign announcing the launch of Navīna Padārtha’s latest product: Bombay Bombil, a lab-grown version of the disappearing Bombay Duck, a favourited Mumbai fish delicacy. “Today is a special day for Navīna Padārtha!”

“Coming, sir,” replied Bhagwan calmly, and smiling to himself.

Today would indeed be a day Navīna Padārtha and the city would remember.

He headed home, put the catfish in the fridge, then showered and dressed in a waiter uniform before returning to the factory, his head clear with a piercingly focused anger.

As the launch began, crowds gathered and the factory entrance buzzed with excitement, banners draped across buildings proclaiming, “The Bombil returns!” A stage stood in the centre of the factory forecourt with a green ocean-themed curtain draped closed behind it.

(Factory Entrance)

Chandekar greeted the citizens, the media, and his colleagues with great pomp as he made his way to the stage to stand in front of the curtain.

“Welcome, welcome, everyone,” Chandekar began. “Thank you for joining us today. Navīna Padārtha represents the culmination of years of research and our commitment to seafood sustainability and security. And today, we’re here to celebrate the return of a lost delicacy, thanks to the latest developments in our cloned seafood line, and, more importantly, how we can do our part in stabilising food and income security for all. Ladies and gentlemen, I give you Bombay Bombil!”

Music burst into play as the ocean-themed curtain opened and waiters walked out and down into the crowd with trays of the new product. Bhagwan walked amongst them, his heart pounding as he encouraged guests to take several pieces from his tray to enjoy.

After a brief applause from the growing crowd, Chandekar continued.

“As you know, the Bombil—also well-known by its misname Bombay Duck—has rapidly disappeared from our waters. Its special pungent aroma is either loved or hated, but it cannot be denied that it is a culinary experience we have all missed. But we need to miss it no longer! The Bombay Bombil is a close-to-natural engineering of the wild Bombil, with the taste, texture, and aroma indistinguishable from the original.”

He watched nervously as the first bites were taken. Faces in the crowd lit up with delight.

A reporter in her mid-forties, raised her hand. “Mr Chandekar, we are all excited about the social benefits of cloned fish, but how can we be sure it’s safe?”

Chandekar smiled reassuringly. “Madam, I understand your concerns. At Navīna Padārtha, we prioritise safety above all else. Every product undergoes rigorous testing. And I have personally overseen the meticulous testing and retesting of the Bombay Bombil, ensuring its safety and nutritional value.”

After a brief question and answer time, Chandekar left the stage and mingled with the attendees, engaging in lively discussions, and encouraging all to try the free samples. The consensus was the Bombay Bombil was a complete success, the taste impeccable and indistinguishable from the wild-caught fish.

Chandekar’s heart swelled with pride and the unwavering belief that he had created something truly good for the world.

But as the crowd enjoyed the event, some attendees began to fall ill, and quickly developed severe gastrointestinal distress and allergic reactions. A freezing cold wave of fear and despair washed over Chandekar. Panic spread like wildfire as ambulances were called and a few attendees were hospitalised.

By the end of the day, the media, once poised to praise, had turned vicious:

“Navīna Padārtha’s Clone Disaster!”

“Lives Endangered by the Bombay Bombil”

(Ambulances Arriving)

Chaos reigned at Navīna Padārtha’s headquarters. Chandekar’s phone buzzed incessantly with calls and messages, demanding answers he didn’t have. Devastated, he demanded the same answers from his scientists and executives who scrambled to contain the fallout. He poured over data himself, searching for the cause of the contamination. His mind replayed every step of the production process, every safety check, and every assurance his plan had promised.

Within an hour, the safety team had an answer—the batch of Bombay Bombil served at the event had been deliberately contaminated with a harmful compound just before being served.

Chandekar fumed at his team’s incompetence, and at the betrayal.

The next day, the streets echoed with protests and demands for accountability. The city’s faith in fish cloning had been shattered, replaced by a deep scepticism and fear. Navīna Padārtha’s reputation crumbled overnight. Lawsuits piled up; investors fled. Chandekar resigned in disgrace, and Navīna Padārtha’s future disintegrated before his eyes. The investigation into who poisoned the food lead nowhere, and the media seemed happy to hold Chandekar fully responsible.

Chandekar retreated into obscurity, his dream of creating a sustainable seafood industry through cloning laying in ruins, buried under the haunting weight of the faces of those he had unknowingly harmed.

Within weeks, the fence around the mangrove forest for the factory’s expansion was pulled down.

As Bhagwan strolled passed the freed forest toward his boat at the jetty, he felt no sadness for the loss of his job at Navīna Padārtha.

He did feel sharp regret for the people he’d hurt from poisoning the Bombay Bombil. Though no lives were lost, he knew he would have to live with the guilt of his dangerous actions for the rest of life.

But as he passed the mangroves now freed from their cage, he saw in his mind their forests flourishing again, restabilising the aquatic ecosystems, welcoming back many species, and allowing traditional local fishing and markets to resurge.

The wind rustling through the mangroves sounded like a ‘Thank you’ to Bhagwan, and he looked forward to the day he’d catch more than just a catfish.

Sci-Fi Stories is a collection of sci-fi texts by Damien Lutz based on prompts from real-life research. Each text contains serious clues regarding future food innovations that represent research paths taken by the Transformative Times team. Current research focuses on how to accelerate the adoption of new food habits.

About us

Transformative Times is a research platform for different companies and organizations to work together towards new futures. Find more about what we are doing by reaching out to us or following us on LinkedIn and Instagram.

https://transformative-times.com/

Her grandmother’s words filtered into Kaede Aihara’s waking mind as the gentle hum of her apartment’s wake-up sequence stirred her from slumber.

Smiling at the inspiration her grandmother always gave her, Kaede stretched, feeling the soft fabric of her yukata. She squinted her eyes open at the morning sunlight suffusing through the shoji screens. In the soft, golden light of her simple room, the smart walls displayed a serene view of cherry blossoms in full bloom, with a memory image of her grandmother cooking in her outside kitchen under blossoming tree branches.

(Memory Image)

“Ohayō gozaimasu,” chimed Kaede’s AI assistant. “Today’s agenda includes a sensory evaluation session and a strategy meeting with the flavour architects.”

Kaede glanced up at her schedule projected on the ceiling and smiled, excitement tingling in her veins—working at the forefront of flavour innovation as a sensory engineer at Umai was not just a profession but a passion, just like cooking was for her grandmother. With taste dictating the essential food adoption of more abundant, lower-impact proteins—a necessary shift for humanity to help mitigate the looming food and nutrition scarcity driven by land-invasive agriculture—Kaede took great pride and responsibility in her work.

After a quick shower, she grabbed a nutrient-packed breakfast bar from the kitchen, savouring the richness and decadence of matcha cake thanks to Umai’s latest flavour-enhancement technology. She then dressed and stepped into her genkan to slip into her outdoor shoes and made her way to work.

The vibrant streets of Tokyo’s blend of traditional aesthetics and futuristic design inspired her quest for a similar fusion in her food engineering, to satisfy the human palate’s connection with memory and authenticity.

(in Tokyo)

Umai’s headquarters stood at the heart of the city, its exterior architecture echoing the elegance of a traditional Japanese garden. Upon arriving, the familiar scent of freshly brewed coffee infused with kinako and yuzu greeted Kaede. She bowed to the receptionist before entering the main atrium where glass escalators criss-crossed up and down to connect tiers of open-plan laboratories. The entire area buzzed with the company’s relentless pursuit of flavour perfection freed from the limitations of imitation.

Heading up to her sensory lab, Kaede joined a diverse group of scientists, chefs, and artists, all united by a common goal: to create the ultimate taste experiences. The lab was filled with an array of advanced equipment to simulate and analyse flavours, whilst incorporating any of the region’s food waste.

“Ohayō gozaimasu, everyone,” Kaede said, donning her sensory headset. “Let’s get started. Dr. Tanaka, what have you set up for us today?”

“Ohayō gozaimasu, Dr. Aihara. Today, we are developing a new synthetic fish designed to better replicate the taste of Katsuo. This has been a highly requested flavour that was difficult to share widely in the old days as the fish itself was difficult to find and catch, and it rotted quickly once killed. I have developed a flavour model that will self-sequence according to our inputs.”

On a large screen above the equipment, an AI genetic model appeared and organised itself into a generic sequence, ready for their testing. The model showed an intricate mix of synthetic flavours, regional food products, and upcycled food waste.

“Ah, this is wonderful!” said Dr. Goto, a flavour chemist.

The team began their evaluations, each member sampling the synthetic fish and recording their impressions. The headset provided real-time data on their taste responses, mapping the intricate dance of flavours on their tongues and interpreting their responses into the sequence on the screen.

“Perfect!” announced Dr. Goto, licking her lips.

“I disagree,” interjected Dr. Tanaka. “This is close, but not perfect. We need to enhance the umami profile without overpowering the subtle sweetness.”

Kaede agreed with Dr. Goto, but she nodded in agreeance with Dr. Tanaka to explore possible variations. “Let’s try a different enzyme to break down the proteins. It might bring out those deeper, savory notes.”

After hours of meticulous analysis, Goto and Tanaka could not agree on a sequence. Kaede felt they were missing something obvious, but her mind couldn’t quite grasp what her intuition suggested.

“Perhaps we should run a further series of small tests with various prefectures,” suggested Dr. Tanaka, “to ensure perfection.”

His words triggered Kaede’s memory of her grandmother, and a realisation dawned on her.

“The way people perceive flavours is influenced by the place where they were born, right? The recipe and cooking culture, too. They learn these when they are a child, and also memories that drive what they think is tasty and what is not. We cannot reach perfection, because there is no one perfect flavour experience of this fish, as it is subtly different for different regions.”

“Ah!” exclaimed Dr Tanaka. “We need to make the taste adaptable to local regions.”

(People Fishing at a local lake)

Goto nodded in delighted agreement.

“That’s right,” said Kaede. “We need to develop the flavour to identify a consumer’s profile and reconfigure its own sequence to match their local values. Dr. Goto, please look into these profiles and match them to sequences. Dr. Tanaka, please help me develop a way to use these profiles to trigger the taste sequencing self-adaptation.”

“Wonderful!” said Dr. Goto and Dr. Tanaka in unison.

For the rest of the day, Kaede worked tirelessly with the two doctors to achieve their new vision, one that held the promise of many other uses and benefits.

That evening, exhausted, Kaede sat on the floor of her humble apartment, after having prepared a simple dinner, a dish that blended traditional flavours with modern techniques: sushi crafted from synthetic fish and rice, infused with the perfect balance of sweetness and acidity. As she took the first bite, a burst of flavour danced on her tongue, transporting her to a memory of cooking with her grandmother.

Remembering those simpler times, Kaede realised her work at Umai was about more than just making new taste’s that were attractive. It was about crafting taste experiences that evoked emotions and memories that reconnected people with the land that provided for them.

Sci-Fi Stories is a collection of sci-fi texts by Damien Lutz based on prompts from real-life research. Each text contains serious clues regarding future food innovations that represent research paths taken by the Transformative Times team. Current research focuses on how to accelerate the adoption of new food habits.

About us

Transformative Times is a research platform for different companies and organizations to work together towards new futures. Find more about what we are doing by reaching out to us or following us on LinkedIn and Instagram.

https://transformative-times.com/

The tree-lined silhouetted arch of the rewilded Sydney Harbour Bridge made it look like a natural formation connecting the north and south shores. Birds flocked in and out of the canopies as they began to settle for the evening. The bridge lighting and the lights of the criss-crossing traffic auto-dimmed to reduce their night-time impact on the wildlife above.

In a country teetering on the brink of climate and food supply crises, Brown had helped steer food industry leaders into recognizing their power to shape not just markets, but also the quality of life of all Australians—humans, animals, and plants.

At the heart of this transformation was Regenesis, a pioneering organisation led by Brown, headquartered in a humble suburban warehouse, and driven by a simple mission: to re-establish Australian’s connection with land through localised food production based on what was available regionally.

(City Food Forest by Regenesis)

From its humble beginnings as a collective of institutions, organisations, individuals, and First Nations Peoples exploring a way of life in Sydney to align more harmoniously with the land, Regen Sydney evolved over decades into Regenesis, a national movement that spread into the minds, hearts, and systems of the country with the intelligent organics of fungi.

Drawing on the many facets of life-centred design to design for the needs of all life and not just humanity’s, Regenesis emulated nature’s waste-free and sustainable solutions to focus on two urgent needs impacting all life in Australia—food and water.

As an enthusiastic and proactive 25 year old, Brown presented Regenesis’ vision at AdaptNSW’s annual climate adaptation conference in 2030, his fact-based and visually commanding presentation conveyed the undeniability of not only the problems, but also the solution.

“The food industry’s re-evaluation of its essential role in the country’s health and future to realise it must transform into a force for equal citizen sustenance and land regeneration.”

“Regenesis’ initiative is twofold: enhance food security through technology while supporting local agriculture to produce nutrient-dense crops in urban areas via a network of inner-city vertical farms, community rooftop gardens, and bioreactors, with agroforestry and rainwater collection integrated into high rises and other large human-made structures and complexes, all supported by outer-regional farms transitioning toward plant-based produce.”

“Combined with rewilded abandoned urban spaces, the distributed network of food and water supply could additionally form eco-corridors through cities for wildlife and migration patterns to return to support biodiversity.”

When the large food manufacturing and supply corporations feared the loss of profits and began their prepared resistance, Brown neutralised their arguments by brilliantly displaying how the shift would mean future profit and business-resilience for the industry itself—their consumers were turning on them already. Fed up with the struggle of the rising cost of living while large food manufacturing and supply corporations continued to profit billions, the Australian people were demanding change with their votes and their wallets.

Reacting to public demand, the federal, state, and local governments collaborated with industry and communities, connecting allies from across silos and sectors, to design Regenesis’ vision into policies.

(Public gathering demanding change)

Municipalities provided incentives and subsidised resources to citizens to support the development of urban and community gardens based on agroforestry that combined trees and crops to enhance biodiversity, improve soil health, and sequester carbon. Local councils and community groups partnered to turn unused urban spaces into a balance of productive food gardens and undisturbed wilderness for urban wildlife to thrive.

The supermarket giants redesigned their business models by investing in developing the technology for small-scale, locally-owned processing facilities to add value to raw agricultural products close to their source. And they transformed their supermarkets stores into cooperative food halls hosting stalls for individual businesses and communities supplying both locally and farm-produced goods. They also invested in developing collaborative platforms to connect farmers, processors, retailers, and consumers to facilitate the sharing of resources, best practices, processing infrastructure, and market access. These platforms helped form local food networks and cooperatives that strengthen community resilience and self-sufficiency while focusing on producing nutrient-dense foods to contribute to better public health.

Food waste was also greatly reduced, through comprehensive inventory management and donation of surplus food to local charities.

The transformation meant citizens needed to change, too. As the world had learnt from managing the millions of people forced by the rising seas to migrate and integrate with new societies, massive citizen behaviour change needed support from larger systemic change. So the food industry had also worked with government to educate and enable citizens to reduce food waste, properly store food, and handle waste sustainably.

Over time, packaging became almost obsolete, with a robust reuse and refill system. This took a lot of getting use to for many. But when people saw how much less waste their homes, apartment complexes, and work places produced—and how less often the noisy, stinky garbage trucks came—they soon adapted.

While Australia aimed to focus mainly on the practical aspects of circular economy solutions rather than defaulting to technological solutions—such as localising solutions, and repairing, reusing, remaking, and recycling goods—accountability about the origin, production methods, and the environmental impacts of food required a transparency and traceability that only blockchain technology could provide.

In the outer farms, animal farming was slowly phased out with the help of financial institutions offering favourable loan terms for farmers and businesses transitioning to plant-based produce. These farms then required less land which they could sell back to the community to add to the eco-corridor network.

Bridges, overpasses, and local parks were redesigned to establish eco-corridors for wildlife to move undisturbed through cities, reestablishing migration patterns. Some of these were also aligned with original and significant tracks used by First Nations people.

(Eco Corridor designed by Regenesis)

By 2075, the nation-wide distributed network integrated all the larger farms beyond the cities with inner-city garden farms to create abundant, resilient, and regenerative ecosystems fortified to withstand the worsening droughts and extreme weather events.

The sun dipped lower in the west, turning the Sydney Harbour Bridge and its elevated eco-corridor purple.

Brown inhaled a deep breath of the summer evening, his aging body warmed by both the sunrays and the proud satisfaction of his decades of work.

He quietly acknowledged the day was the anniversary of Regenesis’ vision being signed into action, when citizens began working hand in hand with industry and government to transcend and heal old ways, and to start manifesting what was then just a distant dream into the vibrant reality silhouetted in the setting sun before him, promising a healthier and safer future for all Australians—humans, animals, plants, and their ecosystems.

Sci-Fi Stories is a collection of sci-fi texts by Damien Lutz based on prompts from real-life research. Each text contains serious clues regarding future food innovations that represent research paths taken by the Transformative Times team. Current research focuses on how to accelerate the adoption of new food habits.

About us

Transformative Times is a research platform for different companies and organizations to work together towards new futures. Find more about what we are doing by reaching out to us or following us on LinkedIn and Instagram.

https://transformative-times.com/

Mia took the plate and sat down to snack on the synthetic fruit as she gazed out the dusty window at the swarms of drones gliding like birds around the city’s towers. As the city spread out before her and twinkled in the morning light, she liked to think of it as a giant, human-made forest, a testament to human achievement and resilience, towering like the giant trees and forests from which humanity had emerged.

(View from the window)

A narrow gap between two towers gave Mia a glimpse of the distance forests which always reminded her of her brother and how they had both chosen such different paths.

She fully understood Ben’s belief in the benefits of agroforestry, biomimicry, crop rotation, and communities living interdependently and trading. Those old ways gave people some control over their immediate area and needs. But they were so slow and primitive, while more and more people around the world struggled for food and nutrition. As a synthetic biologist, Mia believed in her heart the world needed the speed and scalability of technological solutions. Research as early as 2010 had warned the world that by 2035 traditional food supply chains would struggle to meet the nutritional demands of the global population. The following decades of ongoing wars in Europe and the Middle East, however, not only made food shortages worse by 2040, but they also further disrupted supply chains and the innovation needed to properly grasp and address the looming global crisis.

At that time, as a young and junior food synthesist, Mia had almost given up on her career after being forced to constantly switch employers as start-ups launched and failed, held back throughout the two decades it took synthetic food technology to not only be properly developed, but for the food to also be adopted whole-heartedly by the public. By the late 2050s, however, the technology had become safer, faster, and more affordable, with many developed countries shifting to synthetic foods as the main source of nutrition—and putting Mia and her skills in high demand for the rest of her life.

Although Ben’s tribe had forsaken personal devices, which meant keeping in contact with him was difficult, Mia could always check the Earth’s Digital Twin map and find an aerial view of Ben to check if he was alive and okay. Even though he was now 47 years old, he would always be her little brother.

Tempted to check the map then, her wrist wearable interrupted her thoughts with a pulsing reminder that she needed to leave to catch the train to be on time for work.

She headed on her way, the images of Ben and the forests fading from her mind as her thoughts turned to the latest challenge with synthetic foods awaiting her in the NutriCorp laboratories.

Along with nutrition and taste balancing issues, the synthetic fruit and vegetable industry, once hailed as the saviour of global food security, was facing pushback from environmental groups and consumers concerned about unforeseen ecological impacts and health issues.

Arriving at NutirCorp, Mia descended into the depths of the sterile environment of the food synthesis facility. She passed rows upon rows of stainless-steel vats, each one bubbling and churning with the raw ingredients of tomorrow’s meals.

“Good morning, Mia,” said Tai, her assistant, as she entered the lab.

“Good morning, Tai. I hope you slept well—today might be a long one. We’re still struggling to perfect the combination of vitamins and minerals of synthetic fruits whilst maintaining taste quality. I want to achieve a solution today.”

As Mia delved into her work, the glimpse of the sprawling forest canopies returned to her thoughts, along with the nagging doubts that had been growing within her.

While the synthetic vats churned away, consuming vast amounts of energy and resources, she couldn’t help but wonder about the long-term impact on the planet from the mass-production of synthetic food. It was meant to address food insecurity, and reduce the impacts of traditional agriculture such as soil degradation, water pollution, greenhouse gas emissions, and loss of biodiversity. But while they had reduced the sprawl of farmlands, companies like NutriCorp had needed to aquire their own wide use of land for their factories.

After hours of meticulous analysis, Mia and Tai pinpointed a flaw in their genetic coding of synthetic fruits used to enhance the protein yield.

“We’ll need to re-engineer this sequence,” Mia said. “And we’ll have to run a full battery of tests to ensure stability.”

With Tai continuing work in the lab, Mia headed to the meeting with the environmental impact committee.

She entered a room filled with scientists, environmentalists, and corporate representatives. Holographic charts displayed data on everything from greenhouse gas emissions to water usage, as the head of the committee shared their updates.

(Glimpse of the holographic info)

“Our factory’s impacts on soil fertility, carbon sequestering, and water conservation are all still under great scrutiny. We’ve been investigating alternatives to minimise our impact. It’s a priority for us, but finding a scalable solution is proving challenging.”

The discussion shifted to the socio-economic impacts of synthetic foods. While they had reduced pressure on traditional agriculture, small producers were struggling to compete, and there were reports of nutrient imbalances and potential new allergies in populations relying heavily on these new food sources.

As she walked back to her lab, Mia felt the weight of responsibility pressing down on her— the complexities of real-world implementation were testing the promise of a mass scale synthetic food production.

She paused by the tall windows of the hallway to calm herself and gaze into the city forest she thought would save the world. Thoughts of her brother surviving in the outer forests returned and brought with them a renewed perspective.

While scalable solutions were essential, Mia could see that the future of food couldn’t rely on just the sterile confines of corporate laboratories, but also in the hands of those who remained directly connected to nature.

As the sun dipped below the horizon and the city lights shimmered in the gathering darkness, Mia completed her tasks for the day and made her way home through the neon-lit streets.

Reaching her apartment, she looked out over the city and peered through the gap in the towers where the outer forests remained hidden by the night.

She activated the Earth’s Digital Twin and a holographic globe appeared in front of her. She brushed it sideways and then pinched it to zoom in on the forested area just outside the city. The live data switched to night mode to reveal the subtle colour arrays of the canopies. She zoomed in on the area of her brother’s tribe to see small fires flickering in between large communal huts in a clearing.

(Designed Forests Areas)

And there she found her brother, wiping sweat from his brow as he carried the last of his day’s haul—a basket of bright oranges plucked ripened from the trees he lived in.

Sci-Fi Stories is a collection of sci-fi texts by Damien Lutz based on prompts from real-life research. Each text contains serious clues regarding future food innovations that represent research paths taken by the Transformative Times team. Current research focuses on how to accelerate the adoption of new food habits.

About us

Transformative Times is a research platform for different companies and organizations to work together towards new futures. Find more about what we are doing by reaching out to us or following us on LinkedIn and Instagram.

https://transformative-times.com/

I yawned, stretched, and salivated at what Earth Rise meant—it was the Lunar Potluck Palooza day. 

Recent mealtimes on the lunar base were having another geometric phase—the auto-kitchen was printing out meals in cubes, spheres, pyramids, cones, cylinders, cuboids, buckyballs, and all the hedrons.

We ate vegetable dodecahedron dice last nice, with DNA-shaped lab-grown wagyu that arched over the plate like pork ribs, and mini-pyramids of nutrient rich algae that grouped on the dish in a miniature forest. I always cringed a little at eating geometric food.

(A photograph taken of the vegetable dodecahedron)

Creating food, its shape, and taste on demand was so convenient it had become a chore, so we let the AI randomise the meals based on our personal taste preferences, and it would experiment with shape and colour. By the end of the month, it looped back over the same shapes.

Today, though, with the Lunar Potluck Palooza, everyone had to create a dish themselves based on their Earthly cultural heritage.

As an Australian, this was tricky, as our food had become very much a fusion of other cultures, mainly Asian and Western European. 

I always reverted back to my childhood when my grandpa always baked a roast at Christmas, even when the summer heat became scorching.

“It’s tradition,” he would say.

This tradition was actually originally from Britain, but then so were my ancestors. But for me, roasts were about comfort, security from the land, it was about me helping grandpa at the oven and stove, and the rich, earthy smells of the roasted vegetables and sizzling, juicy meat.

So, there I was, tweaking the 3D food printer settings on the Moon in the name of tradition.

The real trick was making the dish look, taste, and smell like the original when we only had the base’s limited food recourses—lettuces, radishes, and wheat from the hydro greenhouses, nutrient rich algae, and some lab-grown meats. The printers could take cells from each and print whatever we programmed, but it wasn’t like magic, it was technology that needed to be told what to do.

“How’s the roast, going?” Kirra asked next to me. “Try to get those potatoes a little less watery, this time.”

I laughed because she was right.

“You just worry about the texture of yours, Kirra.”
It was even trickier for Kirra, who was always determined to replicate the bush food of her First Nations Australian heritage.

She would spend hours iterating prints to get the right colours, shapes, and textures of the flora, fauna, or fungi growing thousands of kilometres away in Earth’s soil, so that she always served up a plate of realistic plants and fruits. Kirra had led the way to the inclusion of native Australian food tomatoes in the greenhouse, like Warrigal greens and bush tomatoes, so her Potluck always consisted of food from more shrubby plants that we couldn’t yet get growing on the moon, like Wattle Seed and Anise Myrtle.

One thing she always got perfect was creating the smell of the Australian bush that transported me back in time and across space to school trips when I was a kid back on Earth.

Together with the rest of the crew, we choreographed ourselves around each other in the auto-kitchen as we printed and tasted and iterated, flushing the east hall with a tapestry of aromatic scents, a mix of liquorice and refreshing clean citrus aromas, some chocolate and fruity smells, and spices of all kinds. The base would stink for days, we knew, but it felt warm and earthly, and we all missed it a little when it dissipated.

(Earth view from a zoom glass window on the lunar base)

Against the backdrop of Earth, hanging in the inky sky like a suspended jewel, we laid our dishes on the tables, a mesmerizing mosaic of colours and textures. Dressed in our lunar-adapted versions of our cultural clothing, we sat around the tables with a shared anticipation. Laughter and camaraderie filled the hall as we munched on our creations, listening to each other’s stories, some often repeated from the previous month, but we didn’t care. We had developed a real appreciation for our sustenance, how precious it was on the moon. Day to day eating had been reduced to a necessity, on schedule, so the Potluck Palooza always brought us back to the ritual of eating and the ability of food to connect us and allow us to taste the memories and histories that shaped al our Earthly heritage.

But while every dish represented a different person and culture, it was the culmination of the ritual that represented us as a group of one kind—human Earthlings—reminding us of our united home, that we were all visitors to the Moon, and we relied on each other. 

As the lunar day gave way to night, the Earth's luminous orb slipped out of the window’s view.

It was just always in the back of my mind how ironic it was this group of humans could have a bonding moment like this monthly tradition that transcended time zones, nationalities, and even the barriers of space itself, so far from where a lot of our differences, both beautiful and dangerous, had begun.

“You got those potatoes right, finally,” Kirra jibed, sitting beside me and offering a bowl of finger-shaped lime fruit. I took one and split it open to spill out small tangy, sour beads of lime flavour into my mouth.

“Wow, you really nailed that texture this time, too,” I said, wiping juice from my chin.

It was incredible to think about the journey of food itself, from these 3D printed replicas of Earth food sitting on our plates on the Moon, evolved from the freeze-dried meals and powdered beverages of the early space missions, and from experiments with edible plants in the space gardens on the first space station, different species and evolutions all originating from life on Earth and surviving together in space.

Traceability: Quiet.

It’s become really important to know where your food comes from, ever since some radical initiated a taste-based traceability by injecting genetically modified enzymes into crops that weren’t sustainably farmed, or came from farms that didn’t treat people fairly, and make their produce taste bad, so consumers would know the producers weren’t sustainable.

The ’traceability enzyme’ was based on enzymes that reacted when they encountered a human digestive system by activating euphoric experiences in the consumer based on the historical data in the food’s genetics, which was meant to simulate its history.

Some say it’s like what dogs experience when they smell something—their sense of smell is so powerful they get an instant virtual mapping of the past of the thing their smelling.

(A microscope photography of the genetically modified enzyme)

The enzyme the radicals put in meat was worse, though. It didn’t hurt you, not physically, but it was LOUD. If you ate the infected meat, you’d start to think you were hearing the screams of the animals being slaughtered.

So biosecurity released a counteractive genetic modification treatment for all produce, but it turned out that once the radical enzyme was in the ecosystem, it was as impossible to eradicate as HIV is from human bone marrow—the treatment stopped the enzyme working, but the treatment diluted over time and the enzyme would reactivate. 

So now a product’s use-by date must also reflect how long ago it was treated.

My AR lens found the bok choy bunch that I was looking for:

Dynamic Use-by countdown: 14 hours | Traceability: Quiet.

Plenty of time to get home, cook, and enjoy the taste.

The word 'taste' had come to mean both the physical taste and the quality of the produce’s traceability.

Some restaurants had capitalised on the modification phenomena, sourcing plants from pristine environments so they would taste amazing and were really quiet. But only the rich would know what that’s really like—some things never change, I guess.

(Seeing a bok choy salad through a AR Device)

It’s just easier to grow what food you can for yourself. But even then, you have to be careful where you get your soil from as the soil’s past can come out in the food, and some soil memories can taste nasty, like being poisoned or sucked dry into a husk.

And water—water from taps in certain areas can feel poisonous, too. When it enters your body, and its molecules mix with yours, the molecules have a fit of memories of all the times and ways they’d been recycled, whether by nature or humans. The taste would only last a second or two, but it could be a roller coaster of being elevated to weightlessness like a cloud, and then stung with poison and plummeting through the air to smack into the ground, to then finally dissipate like a gentle stream trickling away. Sometimes, when you’re out and about and your water bottle is empty, and you need to use a public water fountain, you just suck it up and hydrate.

Now, treating nature with respect, not polluting, and minimising chemical use are necessities, not afterthoughts. I certainly think twice about what rubbish and waste I create, for fear my actions will come back to haunt my next meal.

Anyway, this bok choy will go nice with the potatoes from my sweet little plot at home. I made it from soil I got from an organic farm, and most of the time the produce tastes pretty quiet, which is the best you can hope for these days.

At least I know where my food comes from.

Great opportunity for fitness and working independently

Are you tired of the mundane 9-to-5 grind? Do you dream of breaking free from hours inside and having the wild weather as your constant companion? Well get ready to slip into your all-weather Rider Suit because we've got the job opportunity for you–become a ProGo Delivery Hero!

• Be a staple in your community and connect with Australians every day

• Work with a passionate, like-minded team of people

• Get access to discounted benefits such as health checks and emergency assistance

The climate won't change our delivery of convenience!

ProGos is the ultimate "protein on the go" delivery menu of RealProtein meals and RealProtein Starter Cell Packs, providing convenient meal replacements that are perfectly engineered to withstand high temperatures, power outages, and surprise flood waves, delivered to the hungry public’s door.

We are committed to not letting extreme weather waver our mission to ensure ProGos lovers continue to enjoy our unparalleled delivery of RealProtein—rain, hail, flood, storm, heat-wave, or snow!

And right now, our nine ProGos Labs are looking for Delivery Hero riders to join our current team.

About the job

As one of our ProGo Delivery Heroes, you’ll be delivering on one of our all-weather, heat-resistant, water-proof, floatable, electric-assisted bicycles and representing the face of our trusted business, at the heart of your community, and connecting Australians every single day with the RealProtein they need. 

You might not be working from home, but you’ll be working autonomously out on-the-road, interacting with others and being a team player, and at the times it suits you—it doesn’t get better than that!

Your shifts will include:

• Starting your shift at the facility for weather briefings 

• Completing your own daily vehicle and suit safety check

• Delivering outdoors in all types of weather to deliver to homes and businesses

• Paired up with our virtual experienced Rider Mentors, who are committed to engage and take part in your professional development to make sure you deliver safely and efficiently

(One of the pictures in the advertising showcasing Australia)

About you

We believe our business should reflect the diverse communities we operate in and are proud to be an inclusive workplace for people from all walks of life.

**Ideal for Climate Change Refugees looking to enter the employment market**

Requirements:

• You hold a full or probationary NSW motorcycle licence

• You’ll successfully pass our mandatory and practical riding and health assessments

• You are flexible with working additional hours as required

• You have a great memory, excellent attention to detail, and don’t mind getting wet and hot

How we’ll deliver for you

Earn good money

Ride your way to a small fortune by delivery to people what they love, and track your profits with every delivery. Your earnings are deposited into your account every week, or more frequently upon request (subject to power outages).

Flexibility that defies the elements

You're free when you need to be. Earn in your spare time. Deliver for a few hours in the mornings, every night, or just on weekends – it's up to you. You'll have plenty of time left over for school and uni to hang with your friends, or whatever. You are your own boss and you can choose when and how much you work (and as determined by our high standard Rider Element Exposure Limits).

All equipment included

We supply:

• 1 x ProGo Delivery Hero Bicycle—One all-weather, heat-resistant, water-proof, floatable, electric-assisted bicycles with built in Sudden Weather Tracker

• 1 x ProGo Delivery Hero Rider suit—One all-weather, heat-resistant, and water-proof with built in emergency beacons

Not just a job—an adventure with purpose!

As a ProGo Delivery Hero, you're not just a delivery person – you're a culinary climate crusader! While others cower indoors, you'll brave the elements, breezing through heatwaves and coasting along sudden floods to deliver the protein that keeps our home-bound community working. 

Track climate obstacles and earn risk money as your AR goggles show you bonus payments for extreme weather obstacles—it’s just like being in a video game but you make money!

Who needs job security when you can have job exhilarity?

Inclusive and welcoming

Be part of a culture where everybody feels they belong, are valued, and can bring their authentic self to work every day because you’ll be one of the few people on the roads.

Safety first!

• Track your exposure with the suit’s Rider Element Exposure Tracker—Your health is in your hands!

• Safe delivery modules—You'll be the guardian of valuable RealProtein, so you'll receive Safe Food Delivery training to help keep you and the protein safe

Apply Now and be a ProGro Delivery Hero!

ProGo Fair Work Compulsory Stats

• Rider deaths for this financial year: 123 (that's a 1% decrease and going down!)

• Long-term physical Rider Element Exposure potential: 86% (that's a 3% decrease and going down!)

• 2.2/5 from 3499 Reviews

Sci-Fi Stories is a collection of sci-fi texts by Damien Lutz based on prompts from real-life research. Each text contains serious clues regarding future food innovations that represent research paths taken by the Transformative Times team. Current research focuses on how to accelerate the adoption of new food habits.

About us

Transformative Times is a research platform for different companies and organizations to work together towards new futures. Find more about what we are doing by reaching out to us or following us on LinkedIn and Instagram.

https://transformative-times.com/

Not just because my 83-year-old skin is crusting up from sun damage and age, and my joints grind and clack as my fluids dry up.

No, it’s because of those damn insect plagues fillin’ the outside air that I’m sure breathin’ in mouthfuls of—even with my mask on—that I then imagine colonise inside me and breed, crawling through my veins, under my skin, and up into my brain to nest and control my thoughts.

(Drone picture of a Spring plague)

They say I got a phobia, like what many suffer from these days, with the air filled with constant buzzing, crawling, scratching. While many of the flyin’ and buzzin’ critters died in some parts of the world as the temperatures rose, others migrated and thrived, and here the ground and the air and the walls seem to crawl with them.

Desperate for food, they destroy our crops and nest in our walls and floors and ceilings.

At night, when the lights flicker, I try not to think about them chewing the wires, electrical grease dribbling down their little chins.

Our only way to fight back is to eat them, make them the majority of our diet.

But many, like me with the phobia, can’t bring themselves to willingly ingest them.

Just the thought makes my stomach knot and my oesophagus fit, my hands claw and my back tense into a shell, as if consuming them would finalise my complete transition into a giant cockroach, a constant waking nightmare that fills me with terror.

That’s why I spend more time than an old man like me with a bad heart should at Joto’s Burger and Salad Bar. It’s the only place to get a juicy steak burger dripping with the grease that could only come from a cooked animal, and fresh mixed salads that could have only been grown under a sun-drenched sky not filled with locusts, crickets, beetle, and hoppers. Comfort of a past free from critter plagues. Although the meat is made from muscle and fat grown in the lab, it’s as damn good any beef burger I had before the plagues.

Doctor says the burgers don’t do my heart any harm because the meat and fat came from insect cells, and I can tell ya that thought still weevils into my brain from time to time.

But I zap that thought from my mind like a bug zapper vanquishes a pesky mosquito before I swallow a big bite of my Joto’s Double Patty with Cheese, look up to watch the TV screens showing cows in green paddocks chewing grass and brushing away an occasional bug with their tail, and wipe the grease dribbling down my chin.

(Keyframe from the screen)

Sci-Fi Stories is a collection of sci-fi texts by Damien Lutz based on prompts from real-life research. Each text contains serious clues regarding future food innovations that represent research paths taken by the Transformative Times team. Current research focuses on how to accelerate the adoption of new food habits.

About us

Transformative Times is a research platform for different companies and organizations to work together towards new futures. Find more about what we are doing by reaching out to us or following us on LinkedIn and Instagram.

https://transformative-times.com/

Enjoying the morning quiet of the kitchen, Jamie gulped down her algae smoothie and blinked on her mixed reality lens to check the weather—'Forecast for 01/03/2100: Sunny with a chance of sudden storms.’

Unpredictable as usual, she thought as she strapped her kinetic energy pack to her belt and headed out to follow the river to the vertical farm.

Carl’s avatar appeared in the top right of her lens with a message, “Yum!”, and a video link.

Jamie blinked to play the video.

Tri, a top Planetary Efficiency (PE) motivator, grinned in ecstasy as he held a plate of steaming food to the camera.

“I’m eating melt-in-your-mouth PE Wagyu,” Tri said, wiping his mouth, revelling in the flavour, “with garlic-sauteed mushrooms, crunchy seasoned green beans, and a creamy leek-and-potato mash. Heaven!”

Jamie’s saliva glands pulsed and flooded her mouth. She gulped with envy.

“How did he get that?”

Carl’s avatar changed to a live video of him, and his voice spoke in Jamie’s earpiece. “He earned it with his high PE rating. And he gets kickbacks for inspiring others.”

Jamie glanced at Tri’s PE rating—94%. “But how does he get it so high and keep it there?”

“He must capture all his energy output and give it back to the grid. And he probably follows his Digital Twin’s instructions to the detail.”

Jamie checked her own kinetic pack was properly connected.

“I capture most of my output, too, and follow my DT advice a lot of the time. And I’m on my way now to the farm to add to my Basic Income.”

“Yeah, but we spend our excess on our foodie nights. I doubt Tri indulges in retro fast-food regularly like we do.”

Jamie’s mouth watered again at the thought of their recent pizza night. Synthesised replicas of fast food from the 2200s were an indulgent break from the nutritionally balanced, but unremarkable regular meals included with the Basic Income package. But they were also costly to a PE rating, and they took Jamie six work hours a week to offset.

“Tri’s meal must cost him weeks of work.”

“All his other meals must be made only from teenies,” Carl joked.

Ugh, teenies. Jamie cringed at thought of only eating insect protein every day.

“Anyway,” Carl continued, “don’t forget my birthday next month. It’s the day after Net Zero Day, so you can’t forget it.”

(Carl's Birthday the year before)

“Of course, I hadn’t forgotten,” Jamie lied. She blinked to add a calendar reminder… and simultaneously had an idea. “I’ve already planned a treat dinner for you. And it’ll be as good as Tri’s.”

“Wow, really? I can’t wait! Ok, chat later.”

Jamie checked the PE rating of Tri’s dinner, and her stomach dropped like a falling elevator.

I’ll have to work 20hrs every week to offset that.

Arriving at the farm, she greeted others who were there, like her, to pay off some high-resource activity they indulged in—meats (lab grown from real meat cells, of course, but high in energy and water use), extended periods of recreational technology, or intercity rocket travel.

Committed to achieving an exceptional dinner like Tri's for Carl’s birthday, Jamie worked past her usual two hours until she’d clocked up six. The farm AI remined her to take a break, and then she pushed through two more hours.

(Dead nature painting found inside the farm)

Exhausted from doing more work in a day then she usually did in a week, she headed home along the river and checked her PE, but it had only risen slightly.

Determined*,* she kept up the pace for three weeks, until, finally, on the morning of Carl’s birthday, **her rating sat at an impressive 90.5%.

She warmed with pride at being able to afford the special dinner for her friend and herself.

But not only that, her rating had attracted followers whose PE rating had risen since following her. She had earned a PE Motivator badge!

That night at the restaurant, their stomachs full and their heads groggy from the symphony of flavours, textures, and aromas, Carl and Jamie rested back on the couch.

“Thank you so much, Jamie, that was amazing.”

“It really was,” Jamie replied sleepily, fighting a food coma, and exhausted from her weeks of intense work.

She wondered how she might keep up her PE Motivator status... and if that one incredible meal of delicious and complex flavours was really worth all the energy it took to get it onto a plate.

Sci-Fi Stories is a collection of sci-fi texts by Damien Lutz based on prompts from real-life research. Each text contains serious clues regarding future food innovations that represent research paths taken by the Transformative Times team. Current research focuses on how to accelerate the adoption of new food habits.

About us

Transformative Times is a research platform for different companies and organizations to work together towards new futures. Find more about what we are doing by reaching out to us or following us on LinkedIn and Instagram.

https://transformative-times.com/

Share Transformative Times