THE FUTURE IS IN THE EYE OF THE BEHOLDER
Saturday, July 19th, 2025
TIPI CIRCLE circa 9:30pm—“Everyone please rise and stand behind the logs,” says Performance Coordinator José Garcia. The campers whisper excitedly as they clamber outside the circle of benches that surround the fire circle. The woods have darkened to a single, all-encompassing black mass of cricket song. A jagged opening in the canopy reveals that the sky has retained a faint blue glow, even in this late hour. As the audience finishes repositioning, four counselors somberly enter the circle, arranging themselves around the campfire in the cardinal directions. Coming to a strong, neutral stance, they stare silently at the fire. The audience quiets in anticipation.
“Earth!” suddenly shouts one of the four. They then produce a pitcher full of rocks and dirt, and, walking around to the other three, distribute the dusty matter to cupped hands. With a quick nod, they all begin juggling the earth, each creating a messy shower of debris that quickly dissolves. The campers giggle. They emphatically end in unison to modest applause.
“Water!” shouts the second of the four, producing a pitcher of water, and again distributing the contents to the other three. Each juggler strains to keep their cupped hands watertight. Again, they juggle. The masses of water dissolve even more quickly than the dusty dirt.
“Air!” shouts the third, who proceeds to pretend to pour air to the other three. Again, they juggle, this time to a chorus of ironic cheering.
“Fire!” shouts the fourth, producing a juggling torch which he sticks into the flames of the campfire. The fuel-soaked torch instantly bursts into a bright flame, which is then passed to the other three torch jugglers. The audience roils with applause as in unison they begin juggling. Just outside the circle, Drummer Paul Gaffney plays an ominous rhythm on the drum kit while Teen Staff Gabby sings operatic melodies as soundtrack to the spectacle.
The club jugglers are followed by a round of flaming flower-stickers, and then a round of flaming poi and spin staff. With each successive round, the music and cheering become more intense. The cheering becomes almost deafening as Unicycle Instructor Lucas Johnson mounts a flaming unicycle. For a special finale, Clowning Instructor Milla Blackwelder slowly eats fire on bended knee, extinguishing the only remaining flame and casting the circle into darkness. The crowd erupts with applause.
Surely a lullaby will ensue, followed by tooth brushing. I steal away to my blog lair behind the Puppet Grove to review my notes. Earlier today, Camp was visited by a cast of characters from the year 2075. During their visit, I spent some time with the Camp polity to learn more details of these improbable events.
I encountered the first group in the Tipi Circle, a dozen campers and counselors sitting in the woodchips and painting the three large plastic hand-shaped chairs that live around downtown Camp.
“There’s like, time travel stuff,” observed Jade, 14, Maroon Tipi. “I’m painting the nails on this hand chair to leave my mark. The thought of people fifty years from now seeing my art is a fascinating concept. In fifty years, I’ll probably live alone in a cottage in the woods with a bunch of plants.”
“Time is a thought-provoking subject,” continues Jade. “Consciousness is a sort of time travel, whether you’re awake, asleep, or under anesthesia, the passing of time is so elastic. Living in the past is rough, the future is unknown, and the present is backwards. If we collectively support each other, that’s how we can fight back.”
“These hand chairs are used to honor campers who get three strokes [see: merits] in one dinner circle,” says Art Instructor Pharaoh Fleischman. “Today we’re doing a makeover for these chairs to improve that part of the process. I think art is a way to spread love and that uplifts everyone. I hope the visitors from the future will be inspired by our values of inclusion, appreciation, and kindness.”
I was pleased to meet nearby in the Tipi Circle one Rhea Porter, my journalistic counterpart from the year 2075. Apparently, she teaches at the Dead Bug University, which I will found in the year 2039.
“I am leading a field trip with some of my journalism students to study the past,” she said, notebook in hand and a large press lanyard displayed on her blazer. “In the year 2075, we primarily base our journalism on facts, so it’s interesting to see how things are done in your time.”
“We hope to use the data we gather on this expedition to improve Bitcoin distribution,” continued Rhea. “I’m discovering that many of the details in our textbooks are inaccurate. We hope to fill our historical gaps so that we can better our own present time. Sorry, I’m feeling very tired. Time travel really takes it out of you!”
Moving to the Big Top, Camp’s acrobatics hub, I find another dozen campers puzzling over a strange array of tumbling mats and other props. This was described to me a Rube Goldberg machine.
“I don’t know why we’re making a machine, but we’re doing it anyways!” said Yoshiko, 10, Gold Tipi. “The machine has two rollers bump the duct tape ball so it rolls down this chute, drops on the broom which turns the fan on, and then pushes a ping-pong ball down a slide. This machine probably won’t solve world hunger, but it will probably do something fantastic. Time will tell!”
Still in the Big Top, I encountered two villainous characters, self-described oligarchs from the year 2025. Two assistants tailed them, carrying bunches of grapes.
“This past of 2025 is very cold,” asserted Laika God, CEO of Humans Inc. “I can’t help but notice that none of these campers are mining for raw minerals.”
“There’s too much hope in the air; I find that disconcerting,” said Sven Ringtone, heir to the Ringtone fortune and President of Uber for Lithium Mines. “Uber for Lithium Mines, it’s a company that empowers anyone to have the benefits of mining for lithium, even if they don’t have a car. All these children are laughing without any apparatus to harness their excess energies. Very wasteful.”
The pair paused for the administering of a quick snack of grapes from their assistants.
Heading up the road I saw a camper sitting on a log, reading alone in the shade.
“I’m just chillin’ with my book, Where the Crawdads Sing,” said Delphine, 11, Turquoise Tipi. “It’s a really good love story—at least parts of it. It seems there are a bunch of people from the year 2075 here today. Now there’s a bunch of activities for us to change the future so that we don’t have to survive on gelatinous energy cubes. My main hope for the future is that we don’t get submerged in water from the melting ice caps.”
I continued to the Puppet Grove to find the construction of a massive paper mâché toothbrush underway, one certain restless camper looking on skeptically.
“I don’t believe these guys are actually from the future,” said Sebastian, 11, Blue Tipi. “I get the meaning—‘We can change the future, yada yada yada’—but do we have to be so silly about it? If I wanted to inspire people, I would make a poster with a big eye, and you can see a city in the pupil. Then in big letters it would say ‘THE FUTURE IS IN THE EYE OF THE BEHOLDER’. I like some mid-20th century propaganda, but I guess it depends on which one.”
While fetching paper and pencil for Sebastian, a camper strolled by, covered head-to-toe in paint.
“I started off at the nail salon, and then when I got to the Art Grove I just went wild,” recounted Ellie, 13, Scarlet Tipi. “Art lives on. In history class we see old art and we learn about the details of their lives. I want people of the future to know that we care about the world and are willing to fight for it. That’s why I’m covered in paint.”
Soon thereafter, a conch was sounded, calling everyone back to downtown Camp, where campers shared with each other the fruits of their whimsical exploits, and made final contributions to the time capsule.
Stay hydrated,
—J. Payseno, Editor
