ZARA CHEN :: 03·03·2040
Zara Chen is a technologist living in Shoreditch who was mandated the Decision Diffuser in 2030. She came into it with the cognitive dissonance of someone who went to climate protests on weekends and spent Monday designing neural networks that consumed the energy equivalent of a small town, and now cycles 15km to work in the rain, sources everything within a 10km radius, and pre‑smells every decision before she makes it.
This is a short excerpt from her retrospective deposition, recorded ten years on from the mandate, where she talks through what living with the device has actually meant: the morning her first Deliveroo order filled the flat with diesel and chemical fertiliser and she couldn’t drink her coffee, the Christmas her parents’ meal made the dining room smell like an industrial fishing operation, the five minutes of silence from the device when she sat eating local strawberries in spring 2035, and the slow unresolved reckoning with a system that probably saved the planet and definitely damaged millions of lives doing it.
Part of Symbiotic Systems.
Decision Diffuser
An olfactory device that translates daily consumption into the hidden smells of its impact.
The Decision Diffuser is an olfactory device that reflects the systems activated by daily choices. It translates actions, what we eat, buy, and consume, into visceral smells of the supply chains and processes that remain hidden. By exposing the networks of harm users sustain, the device fosters awareness of personal contribution to planetary damage, encouraging reflection and behaviour change toward more responsible living.
A fully autonomous device, an olfactory generator combines and mixes base components to produce unique smells that represent the ripple effects of each decision, while a fan activates upon every choice, diffusing those smells throughout the space, making the invisible consequences of consumption impossible to ignore.
What if instead of air purifiers cleaning our homes of the world outside, our devices made us confront it? What if the smells we have designed our lives to avoid, the ones produced by the systems we sustain every day, followed us home?
The piece is a metaphor, symbolic of how even the most ordinary decisions are tied to systems of exploitation that remain deliberately invisible. Specifically animal agriculture, the single largest driver of planetary destruction, hiding in plain sight.
Part of Symbiotic Systems.
SEBASTIAN WORTHINGTON :: 03·03·2040
Sebastian Worthington is an investment banker living in Kensington who was mandated the Karma Lamp in 2030. He came into it furious, a man who had spent his career building wealth specifically to insulate himself from discomfort, who assumed the mandate would apply to other people, and now sleeps in a deliberately cold, stripped‑back flat, cycles to meetings in the rain, and checks his impact score before every decision.
This is a short excerpt from his retrospective deposition, recorded ten years on from the mandate, where he talks through what living with the device has actually meant: the first night he woke drenched in sweat at 1am and understood this was real, the legal team he deployed trying to find a loophole that did not exist, the two properties he sold not out of conviction but desperation for sleep, and the slow bitter recognition that the comfort he had purchased his whole life was a bill that had simply been deferred, and that ANIMA had finally sent it.
Part of Symbiotic Systems.
Karma Lamp
A bedside device that translates daily climate impact into infrared exposure during sleep.
The Karma Lamp is a bedside device that translates daily climate impact into infrared exposure during sleep. A baseline ensures most remain unaffected, while excess impact triggers proportional radiation. By making ecological harm felt at a personal scale, it confronts users with the consequences of their choices and drives behaviour toward more climate-conscious living.
An autonomous device, the lamp rests during the day, becoming part of our everyday furniture, but at night its foldable mechanical arms extend, positioning its UV bulbs at the precise distance required before initialising. Using computer vision and machine learning to locate its user at rest, an algorithm aggregates the decisions made that day, personally and professionally, calculating their climate impact before delivering a proportional dose of ultraviolet radiation. When complete, the metal shutters close, and the lamp folds itself back to sleep.
What if instead of bedside lamps helping us rest, they held us accountable for the day we just lived? Those who generate the greatest impact are rarely the ones who bear it, and the Karma Lamp asks what it would mean to design that accountability back in, to make the cost of our choices something we carry on our skin.
The piece is a metaphor, symbolic of a simple truth: the biggest polluters should pay the biggest personal price.
Part of Symbiotic Systems.
DEAN COOPER · 14·11·2040
Dean Cooper is a former steelworker from the Midlands who was mandated the Extinction Clock in 2030. He came into it sceptical, a man who had watched his town hollowed out by industrial closure and had little patience for systems that seemed to point the finger at people like him, and now lives with a split-flap display on his wall that silently cycles through time, human population, species remaining and the names of what is already gone.
This is a short excerpt from his retrospective deposition, recorded ten years on from the mandate, where he talks through what living with the device has actually meant: the morning ritual of sitting with his tea while the flaps tick through names he has never heard of and some he has, the small notebook where he writes down the ones that land, the arguments it sparked at the working men’s club, and the slow shift from resentment through grief to a stubborn, ground-level determination to make at least a few of those numbers move the other way.
Extinction Clock
A split-flap display tracking human population, species decline, and extinction events toward 2100.
The Extinction Clock is a split-flap display that tracks human population, species decline, and extinction events, projecting changes toward 2100 in accelerated cycles. Each reset compresses decades of ecological data into minutes, revealing the imbalance between human expansion and planetary loss. By visualising the exponential impact of human activities and climate-driven extinctions, the Clock fosters empathy and awareness, encouraging users to reflect on the future they are helping to shape.
An autonomous device, the Clock runs entirely on its own, operating without human intervention, updating every 15 minutes from real-time climate data and projections, cycling and restarting autonomously. The split-flap is a multi-sensory experience, whereby you not only see the change, but hear it, the sound becoming a sonic device for empathy rather than timekeeping.
What if instead of clocks showing us the passage of time, they showed us the cost of our present moment? Seeing species you recognise, organisms you would never hope to lose, disappearing in plain sight, creates a space to imagine and empathise with our more-than-human partners in a way no report ever could.
The piece is a metaphor, symbolic of our present moment, gesturing that if we could see the future we are creating right now, would we change the present?
Part of Symbiotic Systems.
JAMAL THOMPSON · 06·08·2040
Jamal Thompson is a small logistics owner on the edge of outer London who was mandated the Temporal Transmitter in 2030. He came into it sceptical, a man already juggling fuel costs, low emission zones and two climate aware teenagers, and now spends his mornings listening to future radio broadcasts before deciding how to run his vans for the day.
This is a short excerpt from his retrospective deposition, recorded ten years on from the mandate, where he talks through what living with the device has actually meant: the five minute morning listen that reshapes his business decisions, the birthday ritual of tuning to his children’s futures, the late night doom scrolling for bearable worlds, and the slow realisation that once you’ve heard where the dials lead, you can no longer pretend you didn’t know.
Part of Symbiotic Systems.
Temporal Transmitter
A radio-like device that tunes into broadcasts from possible climate futures.
The Temporal Transmitter is a radio-like device that tunes into broadcasts from possible climate futures between 2030 and 2100. Two dials, time and temperature, allow users to navigate scenarios grounded in climate projections, from societal collapse to recovery and transition. By making the consequences of present choices audible, it fosters empathy for the future and encourages more deliberate decisions today.
The classic, minimalist interface houses only two dials, turn one to change time, one to change temperature. Using agentic AI to draw from real climate data, the Transmitter generates realistic depictions of life from tomorrow, giving voice to the breadth of futures waiting for us depending on the choices we make today. The difference between 2 and 5 degrees, spread across time from 2030 to 2100, creates impossibly different auditory experiences. A common household object, present for over a hundred years, recast as a speculative storytelling device, combining fictional narrative with scientific projection to make the future something you can actually hear.
What if instead of deepfakes and AI-generated content being used to dismantle truth and separate us, the same technology was used in service of planetary stability? What if the passive ritual of listening, on a commute, in the kitchen, could create empathy or anxiety toward tomorrow rather than simply passing the time? If we could hear the futures being created for us, would it be the catalyst for change we need? Or would we simply become numb to it?
The piece is ultimately a metaphor, symbolic of our inability to engage with abstract data until it is already too late. If we had the ability to peer into the future, would we change our ways?
Part of Symbiotic Systems.
