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Journey to 2125

One Century, One Family, Rising to Challenges

Journey to 2125

The century ahead –

Will this family survive?

How will yours?

If you are intriqued, please use the link above to download your free book.


Journey to 2125:

One Century, One Family, Rising to Challenges

It’s 2125 when a long-separated grandson suddenly arrives on his doorstep looking for answers. Max MacGyver retells their family story and secrets, revealing a century of challenges that they've faced. Journey to 2125 is one family’s touching story, across generations, of adventure, rivalry, loss, survival, and resilience.

At its heart, Journey to 2125 is the story, transpiring over a single day, of a young boy and his grandfather. Why did his parents decide to move to the Commune? What family secrets will his grandfather disclose?

This is the story of a family facing our future. A small boy escapes war in Asia. A young woman flees catastrophe driven by climate change in Africa. Family members build technology companies, and others deal with the trauma of jobs lost to automation. A young couple fight for privacy and democracy. Lives are positively transformed by biomedical science and threatened by it.

Journey to 2125 is simultaneously the story of how humankind might collectively weather the tragedy and chaos that we can expect from accelerating change. It is a hard-science tour of our future. What will it feel like to live during these next one hundred years? Take this journey with Max MacGyver and his grandson, as they reveal their family history, and the road ahead for you and yours.

MacGyver Family Tree

A quick start:

Let me give you the beginning of the novel, so you have a taste (then download your free epub and continue reading) -

Book intro CH 1 header and image

It begins with a splash, then rushing down the unknown river of life, each unique as Heraclitus said, around and through each oxbow and rapids, no doubt ending at an astonishing waterfall.

That visceral memory still wakes me after all these years, a recurring nightmare of bone-chilling cold water. Salty, in my mouth. The big man behind me pushes me up and I dog-paddle toward the white ship with the big red cross. People surround me in the water, crying, swimming. My life vest is too big, the straps loose, and the big man lifts me when a swell splashes over. I am tired and my arms are heavy. I swallow salty water with each wave. Some people are sinking, and their heads disappear. He hollers at me in Chinese, his hard face close to mine. “Help me help you; swim!” We reach the ship and he boosts me up to the hanging thick rope net and I grab hold and pull myself out of the cold water. It is like the playground bars, and I climb to the top.

I sit shivering on the deck next to the big man, as a nice woman in white dries me with a towel and wraps me with a blanket. He tousles my hair, then he looks at me and tears come from his eyes. I can tell he is thinking of someone else. I am glad that his muscled hand is not too rough, though I flinch when he reaches out. I lose track of the big man, and when the ship fills with so many people, I don’t see him again until days later.

The nice woman points me to a doorway to descend into the ship, but I duck to the side and stay by the railing to watch everyone else come up the net. I am short and it is noisy and crowded and I can hide by the rail. The tiny boat now is empty. It drifts away from the ship. Its sail flaps in the wind and it bobs sideways as the ship’s engines vibrate the deck and our big ship turns away.

I forgot to mention the fast jet that roars over our boat just before the white ship pulls nearby. Everyone screams and many are praying. But the ship is near and people on its deck are watching, so nothing bad happens.

When everyone is on board and the fishing boat grows smaller behind us, the jet returns. It flies low over the little boat. Fire shoots from the jet and there is a huge explosion, and the boat is gone. I watch the pile of drifting wood where it had been. The jet streaks away. Then I hear my heart beating in my chest like a drum. The woman in the white dress is back and she takes me inside the ship.

“How old were you when this happened?”

I was talking. I was in a reverie, forgot where I was. Grandson sits at the table, eating eggs and bacon. He has a full head of black hair, as much as I ever had, but his is curly. He has an oval face with an attractive chin, like so many in our family. Do his cheekbones resemble me? Sadly, I can see few signs of his grandmother in him, except for a softness around his mouth and fullness to his lips. His arms are tanned and muscular, like he spends time outdoors doing heavy labor. His eyes are alive for the first time since he arrived near sunrise. Some of the trapped expression he wore then has disappeared. I’ll tell him stories for a while and let him decide when to tell me his story.