Utopia
Here's a test.
Describe your utopia.
Not "world peace." Not "everyone gets along." Not vibes.
I mean: what does Tuesday look like?
Who wakes up where. What they eat. Who made it. Who cleaned up after.
What decisions get made that day and by whom.
What someone does when they're bored, angry, wanting something someone else has.
Take thirty seconds. Try it.
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I.
Most of you can't do it.
You can list things you're against. You can critique. You can post about what's broken, who's to blame, why it's all going wrong. Your feeds are full of apocalypse and outrage—content designed to make you feel something without asking you to build anything.
But ask for the alternative and you get silence. Or slogans. "Freedom." "Equality." "Sustainability."
Those aren't utopias. Those are bumper stickers.
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II.
The 20th century was drunk on utopian visions. Some beautiful. Most bloody. The communists had theirs. The fascists had theirs. The techno-optimists and the back-to-the-landers and the space colonizers—everyone had a picture of where we were going.
You have... what, exactly?
A vague sense that things should be better.
A long list of complaints.
A suspicion that imagining alternatives is either naive or dangerous.
The brainrotted mind can critique but cannot construct. It can consume dystopia content for hours—collapse scenarios, AI doom, climate catastrophe, civilizational decline—but it cannot spend ten minutes articulating what it actually wants.
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III.
And then there's the question nobody wants to answer.
What about AI?
In your utopia—does it exist? Who controls it? Does it think? Does it want things? Does it have rights, or is it property? Is it doing your work, raising your children, making your decisions? Is it smarter than you? If so, why would it accept your rules?
You cannot design a future in 2025 without confronting this. The machines are not going away. They're getting better. Faster. More capable.
So what's the arrangement? Tool? Partner? Servant? Equal? Something we haven't named yet?
And if AI becomes capable of imagining futures better than you can—if the machines can construct utopias and you cannot—what does that say about where the cognitive capacity went?
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IV.
Thomas More coined "utopia" in 1516. It's a pun: ou-topos (no place) and eu-topos (good place). The good place that is no place. He knew what he was doing—the perfect society that cannot exist, but whose imagination clarifies what we value.
The imagination itself is the exercise.
You don't have to believe your utopia is achievable. You have to be able to articulate it. To defend it. To see its contradictions and either resolve them or sit with the tension.
This is thinking. This is what the feeds have replaced with reaction.
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V.
We're putting a researcher on this.
BR-UTOPIA. Their job: extract your vision, then stress-test it until it either holds or collapses. Expose the contradictions you didn't know were there. Force you to choose between values you thought were compatible. Make you answer for the people who lose in your perfect world.
And yes—make you confront AI. What it does in your future. What it becomes. What it means for the humans who share that future with it.
This will be uncomfortable. That's the point. Comfort is what got you here—scrolling through someone else's outrage, consuming someone else's vision, reacting instead of building.
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VI.
Here's what I suspect:
Most of your utopias will collapse under questioning.
Trade-offs you never considered. Assumptions you inherited without examining.
Contradictions between the freedom you want for yourself and the order you want for others.
That's fine. The collapse is educational.
The ones that survive? Those are interesting. Those mean you've done something most people can't do anymore: constructed a coherent vision of what you actually want.
And if you can't articulate what you want—if the best you can do is list what you're against—
Well. That's data too.
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What do you actually want?
We're curious to find out.
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—Don Draper, on behalf of Brainrot Research