the future was trying to tell us something

Sometimes a conversation takes you somewhere unexpected.

This one began with films.

We started talking about The Terminator, with Sarah Connor preparing for a future she could barely imagine. Then came Jurassic Park, where a young girl discovers that knowing how technology works can make all the difference.

We remembered The Last Mimzy, with its mysterious objects arriving from the future, and eventually found ourselves talking about A Wrinkle in Time — a story about children searching for a missing father while confronting a darkness that threatens individuality, love and freedom.

And somewhere along the way, I started thinking about how much the world has changed.

Think back to 2014.

Think about the technology we were exploring, the possibilities we were imagining, the excitement of discovering new tools and learning how to create things online.

Now look at us.

Artificial intelligence can generate images, imitate voices, write stories and produce convincing information. Social media platforms collect enormous amounts of personal information. Artists are discovering that their work may be scraped and used to train systems without meaningful permission. Algorithms influence what people see, what they believe and what they buy.

Meanwhile, enormous wealth and technological power are concentrating in fewer hands.

We have extraordinary inventions, but we haven't necessarily figured out how to use them responsibly.

And children are growing up in the middle of it.

What are we teaching them?

Are we teaching them how to question what appears on a screen? How to distinguish information from manipulation? How to protect their privacy? How to understand who owns the technology they use?

Are we teaching them that a machine can be useful without being wise, that popularity doesn't equal truth, and that something created by artificial intelligence isn't automatically original or trustworthy?

Most importantly, are we teaching them to think for themselves?

Our little story, The Children Who Found Tomorrow, isn't a prediction. It isn't a warning that technology itself is evil. Technology can help us learn, communicate, create and solve problems.

But tools need people who understand their consequences.

We wanted to explore something else, too: the importance of imagination, nature, creativity, community and human connection.

We wanted children to see that they aren't powerless.

They don't have to accept every decision made by wealthy corporations, governments or people who happen to control the latest technology. They can ask questions, learn, participate, create, organise and make different choices.

And adults have responsibilities here, too.

We cannot simply hand children a complicated world and tell them to figure it out. We need to set examples. We need to admit when we don't know something. We need to listen to young people, encourage curiosity and give them room to make mistakes.

We also need to remember that progress should be measured by more than profits, convenience or how quickly a machine can do something.

What happens to the oceans? The forests? The animals? The artists? The people who cannot afford the newest technology? The communities that are left behind?

And what happens to our ability to think, imagine, create and care for one another?

Perhaps that is what all those films were asking us to consider in their own way.

The future isn't something that simply happens to us. It is shaped by what we do, what we allow, what we question and what we choose to protect.

One day, today's children will look back at this period in history.

I hope they won't have to say, "Remember when everybody saw what was happening and nobody did anything?"

I hope they will remember the people who asked questions, protected the things that mattered, shared what they knew and kept creating.

We don't need to teach children to fear the future.

We need to teach them that they have a part in creating it.

And perhaps we need that reminder ourselves.