The Empathy Economy
Bankrupt (prologue)
Ever wanted someone to spend a day (or more!) in your life?
Well, look no further...literally.
Welcome to The Empathorium. The world's first empathy-empowerment trading system!
Donate, download and ultimately deepen your connections with the people you share this planet with. The perpetually elusive meaning of life keeps us asking WHY we are here but now you can find out HOW.
Donate your experiences to feel what it's like to not only be in someone else's story and, potentially, write new endings. Invite people into your experience to truly immerse them in timelines of your life to deepen that power we all possess inside.
Download other's experiences via the world's first true VR-enhanced data gallery.
Data is stored in a securely encrypted collection of stories.
Think of them as interactive messages in bottle (with a message from your story if you like!)
Empathy is the currency but what does it buy?
Healing from trauma. Mutual understanding and empowerment.
Throw away the master's tools and create your own through authentic connection-building.
The Empathorium is leading the way with a path to enlightenment, if not yours then someone else's. Change a generation.
Connection is currency.'Everyone has to start somewhere,' she thought as the golden illumination of The Empathorium beckoned her in for a testing session.
The road here was clearly the one less travelled, both metaphorically and environmentally.
But an opportunity to tell her story was impossible to turn down.
Lush, thriving greenery decorated HER Path To Fulfilment which, if she was to believe the notes she'd seen on previous visits and feedback from friends, was what individuals called their personalised route that was pre-arranged via the care co-ordinators available on request.
She had been to a few environmental development sessions and knew that specially trained people had considered the best ways to preserve donors' authentic samples.
What this meant in plain speak was that The Empathorium needed pure experiences and they worked with you in attempts to reduce trauma triggers, though members of The Team were on-site in the event of individuals being triggered or otherwise compromised on their Path To Fulfilment, accommodated as best as possible.
Inside The Empathorium, a large glass-walled network of sustainably sourced bottles greeted her. Transparent vessels of experiences. This open-space foyer was The Energy Exchange.
To the far right of the wall, she could make out the VR integration station with a set waiting for her when she was ready to donate.
She had given blood before but never donated in this way but she couldn't handle the looping chaos in her mind.
So let someone else have it. Maybe someone else can break the cycle.
And in turn, she would set herself free.
She cautiously approached the spectacle that was soon to purify her.
Holding the VR integration station headset in her frail hands, she was simultaneously scared, amused and excited. The buttons on the remote indicated the 2 available options to her.
Donate DownloadShe had the most incredible moment of clarity then.
The wireless connection collectors made it accessible for her specific needs.
Looking up at the 20 foot high glass museum of memories and moments, she breathed one final breath as her fingers pressed Donate.
The energy left her body almost effortlessly aside from the expected feeling which was akin to a gentle breeze of wind with a little drizzle across the face. It was like a revitalising walk in the rain.
Her eyes weary from late nights spent worrying, skin dry with malnutrition and spotty from an absence of proper care.
External signs of a 60 year old struggle.
And now, nothing.
The DNR she'd signed before her visit made sure that she'd leave this world behind as her mental and physical existence gave in. Chapter 1: Daniel
If words meant anything, she wished with all her remaining energy that they held true.
Change a generation.
"What's your story?" Janice asked her classmate as they timidly averted the gaze of most of the people in the playground.
"My story?" repeated Daniel, already feeling on edge.
"Yeah, your story!" My mum always says everyone has their story. People who judge a book by its cover miss out on the potentially beautiful stories inside them. You know?"
Daniel looked confused. "What if it's a beautiful cover? Am I not supposed to pick it up?"
Janice pondered this. "Well, you wouldn't pick it up because then you'd be picking up a person and that's...covers can look nice but not all 'books' are nice inside."
Daniel realised this quirky girl must mean personalities.
"Well, you look alright but I don't bother to read people much," Daniel replies with a knowing laugh.
To his surprise, Janice laughs in unison.
"So, most people you have tried reading haven't been worth it. But I am. And I think you are too."
"Why do you think that, you don't even know me?"
"Isn't that a good enough reason to find out?"
"If you want to get punched in the face for being too curious."
"Whoa, whoa. Let's not judge a book by its cover now," Janice laughs unalarmed by what others might consider a threat.
"I wouldn't do that to you, I was just saying not everyone appreciates it."
"True. But you appreciate me talking to you otherwise you would have pushed me away already."
"That is...accurate." Daniel scratches his head, wondering what this girl wanted and where she came from. After a pause from both Daniel and Janice hung in the air a little too long, he continued, "So I guess part of my story is someone that observes the world as it...as it...self-destructs?"
"It definitely has moments that make you think, What the hell is going on?"
"I agree. People just dance to the music, it doesn't matter what's playing."
"Do you ever feel like joining in?" enquired Janice.
"Nah, I dance to beat of my own drum. They like their routines."
"That's cool. An observer and a musician?"
"I like jazz. People say it's just a mess of sound but, to me..."
"You understand it?"
"It's free. Expressive."
"That's beautiful."
"Music has none of this," Daniel points out to the rest of the playground.
"What doesn't it have? Order?"
"Oh, it's got plenty of that. Disorder too. It's just...a maze. Jazz is so layered. Life here is...it just is."
"Hmm. Prefer to be your own person rather than be like them?"
"Absolutely."
Janice and Daniel stared equally intrigued out at the rest of their world...for now.
"This is a weird conversation, you know. But it's cool, I like it. Thanks."
"That's alright, I enjoy meeting new people and you seemed like you had a lot to say."
"Thanks. Most people think I'm aloof and avoid me or come at me stinking of pity."
"Judging the book by its cover."
"I suppose so. We're writing our story right now aren't we?"
"Yep! But what happens next?"
"Err...turn the page?" Daniel suggests.
Janice and Daniel laugh out loud at each other now.
"Good thing no one else is reading this book!"
"Let them judge," affirms Daniel.
Chapter 2
Janice had always been a giver. A giver of time. A giver of love.
Give. Give. Give. Give. Give.
She'd really enjoyed meeting Daniel but he was far from her first and far from her last.
She loved listening to and connecting with people.
Ever since meeting Daniel, she had continued to live out what in her mind was her purpose; to help others.
At the homeless shelter where she volunteered at weekends, familiar characters had already been and gone with their meal, searching for that next. Their next role in life as they'd been miscast so many times by life's anonymous, unforgiving director.
She desperately wanted to help everyone but she'd realised early on into her career as a teaching assistant that she couldn't be everything to everyone.
Doors could only be opened, you couldn't force people through them.
Ethan was one such person. An ambitious 18 year old with a knack for painting.
But neither Janice nor Ethan knew this at the time.
Ethan came from a close family of addicts. The dreaded A word conjured up so many images for staff and wider world alike. Ethan was talked to like a child, and in some ways, he was, but not in the way many thought. He was a switched-on young man who had caught on early, probably out of necessity, that the world was not merely black and white.
He didn't need people treading on egg shells around him, he didn't need their judgment.
Ethan wanted a genuine connection with people. Genuine desires to help. Himself but also his family. People acted like addicts were another A word; Aliens.
Ethan believed his dad wasn't a bad man, he had merely lost his way due to a decision made at a vulnerable moment, and the consequences of this decision were being shoved down his throat every time someone scorned, tutted or looked away from him. Refusing to see him as a human.
Those that did look his way were fellow people attempting to paint their lives in new colours but had the same or similar dependencies as him. Was it hard to see why his dad felt he belong to a group like that? Ethan didn't think it was hard to see the appeal at all.
Janice had betted on herself and her efforts to offer life-altering opportunities for Ethan with their first meeting being at an alternative educational setting.
They met behind a partition that separated the 'main' class from what was quickly becoming Ethan's retreat.
"Hiya Ethan, how's it going today?"
"I mean, I'm here." Ethan replied dully, barely looking up at Janice.
"Correct. And you know what? It's great to have you here."
"Doesn't feel like it. I'll get in trouble for not being part of the group."
"Teachers teach best based on how the learner learns."
"That's a tongue twister!" exclaims Ethan.
"Participation means different things to different people. If you are listening and engaging in ways that are safe for you right now, I'm happy. Now, this is a process so if you get more confident as we go on, that's amazing, but 'forcing' you out there to 'join in' is only going to set you up for failure, am I right?"
Ethan's face suddenly tightened with constrained emotion. Understanding, at last.
"So let's focus on right now and go from there, yeah?"
"That'd be cool. Thanks."
And from there, they began to deepen their connection. On Ethan's terms.
Just talking. Procrastinating, to some.
But as Janice was fully aware, the problem with mainstream education and society at large was that it was never asking what marginalised, neurodivergent people's stories were.
They had already written their endings. (More on this story arc if you want it, let me know in the comments or in the Subscriber Chat)
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