As someone in higher education, I’ve seen how the pressures on our system keep growing. Budget cuts, shrinking enrollments, and attempts to control the narratives shaping future generations have become all too common. Enrollments are declining, driven by both demographic shifts and growing distrust in education itself. For those of us who care deeply about the power of learning and community, these challenges are a heavy weight to carry.
This reflection is my way of processing that weight—born out of both frustration and hope. It’s also what led me to write Logistical Edge, a sci-fi story shaped by the tensions I see every day.
The world of Logistical Edge is one where education no longer exists in its traditional form. Instead of schools, people earn corporate-issued certifications—“Certs”—that determine their opportunities. AI systems maintain efficiency, but only for those prioritized by the algorithms. Everything seems orderly and stable on the surface, but it raises a deeper question: What happens to our humanity when we put all our trust in technological efficiency?
That question is at the heart of the story.
Sci-fi thrives on “what if” questions. It doesn’t shy away from the hard truths of where we might be headed, but it also dares us to dream of something better. Stories like The Hunger Games by Suzanne Collins and Legend by Marie Lu explore societies where survival depends on rigid control and fear. By contrast, Logistical Edge imagines a world where relentless efficiency, driven by AI algorithms, governs daily life. These systems don’t oppress through violence but through cold, calculated priorities that quietly erode human connection. Yet sci-fi offers hope by inviting us to confront these uncomfortable truths and imagine how we can rebuild systems that serve not just productivity but people.
Hope isn’t about pretending the fractures in our world aren’t there. It’s about seeing them clearly and asking: How do we adapt? How do we reclaim and strengthen the bonds that unite us?
Like The Giver by Lois Lowry, Logistical Edge encourages readers to reflect on the values we need to preserve—compassion, creativity, fairness, and dignity. It pushes us to think about how we can create systems that protect those values instead of breaking them down in the name of progress.
One of the central ideas in Logistical Edge is Ubuntu—“I am because we are.” Ubuntu reminds us that our well-being is deeply tied to others, that we thrive when we build strong, interconnected communities. In a world increasingly driven by data and technology, this truth can feel distant. Yet in times of disruption, we need to remember it more than ever.
Orion Jumo, the protagonist of Logistical Edge, lives in a society built on relentless optimization. Over time, he begins to question the system, guided by mentors who encourage him to rediscover the importance of connection and shared responsibility. These mentors push him to see that true leadership isn’t about personal success but about creating conditions where others can thrive.
Malik, one of Orion’s earliest guides, mirrors figures like Beatrice from Divergent. He asks the difficult questions: Whose needs are being met, and whose are being ignored? He reminds Orion that every decision creates ripples, affecting others in ways that aren’t always visible. Success, Malik teaches, isn’t measured by efficiency but by how many lives you improve.
Other mentors help Orion see the need to balance progress with empathy. They challenge him to think beyond data and algorithms. As Orion’s journey unfolds, he learns that real leadership is not about control but collaboration. His greatest strength lies not in isolation but in recognizing and nurturing the connections that sustain humanity.
At its core, Logistical Edge is about that sense of interconnectedness. Even in a fractured, highly automated world, humanity can endure and thrive when care and connection are prioritized.
Writing this series has helped me make sense of the changes I see around me. Technology and corporate influence are reshaping education and other institutions. Systems often prioritize profit and efficiency over people. Yet I’ve also seen how individuals, working together, can transform those systems to be more humane.
Science fiction reflects these possibilities. It can show us that we can either let technology divide us or use it to bring us closer. We can let institutions collapse—or we can reimagine them with empathy and community at their core. Sci-fi helps us explore those choices, preparing us to face both challenges and opportunities with resolve and hope.
I’m eight chapters into Logistical Edge. If all goes as planned, the book will release in the summer of 2026. I hope it connects with readers who are asking similar questions. Like many great sci-fi stories, Logistical Edge is about systems and survival, but at its heart, it’s about reclaiming what makes us human.
If sci-fi has ever inspired you to reflect on the present or imagine a better future, I invite you to join me on this journey. Let’s dream of futures where care and connection guide us forward.
EarthBlog, signing off.
