RWA Prequel: Those Futures That Were Opened Early

Author: Louis, Trendverse Lab

In a person's life, there will always be some things that inexplicably linger in the heart: a song that you've listened to countless times, a movie that accompanied a certain summer, a taste from a particular year, or a sudden decision made by someone. These things are as light as air, yet at certain moments, they make us feel that their value is far deeper than we can accurately articulate.

Strangely, these things that can most touch people have not belonged to us for a long time. The future of music belongs to record companies, the success of movies belongs to capital, the vintage of wine belongs to wineries, and a person's most personal and vulnerable future choices only belong to themselves. We fill our lives with them, yet we have never truly owned even a little of the value that belongs to them.

Until certain stories happen, the flow of value begins to quietly change. In the corners that time has forgotten, the first seam of value being redistributed is hidden. It is not technology, nor terminology, but those quiet moments when value is gently taken from the hands of a few and falls into the hands of many.

Next, let's start with these small yet bright stories.

1. Music RWA: An old song brings listeners closer to the future for the first time

In the winter of 1997 in London, outside the recording studio, it was damp and cold, the air mixed with the smell of magnetic tapes, paper, and late-night coffee. David Bowie was preparing for a tour, his music had accompanied decades of life, yet it never truly belonged to him. At that time, the copyrights were held by various layers of institutions, with record companies, funds, and distributors each taking a portion, while the person who actually wrote the melody was often at the very end of the value chain.

That year, Bowie made a decision that stunned the industry: he packaged his royalties for the next decade into securities and put them on the market, allowing those who wanted to connect with his music to touch this future in an unprecedented way. The media called it Bowie Bonds, but what more people remembered was not the bonds, but the fact that it was the first time an artist took the initiative to break apart their future, allowing listeners to stand alongside.

Among those who buy bonds, there are collectors and those who simply love a certain lyric. They do not seek investment returns; they just want to get a little closer: closer to the creator, closer to the melody that accompanied a certain period of life, closer to a future they thought they could never touch.

This time, the value of music flows to the listeners for the first time, not just to the company's balance sheet.

Bowie did not change the entire industry, but he gently tore open a gap. Music is not a cold asset; it is time, memory, emotion, and companionship. And when this value is unpacked and no longer sealed in complex structures, it naturally flows to those who are truly willing to receive it.

If Bowie's attempt happened today, it might be realized in a gentler way. The future of music doesn't have to be locked away in a company's vault; it can be broken down like light into many small pieces, landing in the hands of listeners around the world.

At that time, you are no longer just a listener of the song, but a companion in the long life of this melody.

2.** Film RWA: When the future of a movie first approaches the creator**

If music's cracks were opened up in the recording studio, then around the same time, a similar loosening began to appear in a old warehouse in California where films were concerned. In 1995, Pixar before the release of “Toy Story” was not considered a “big company”; animators often stayed up late staring at the unrendered images, and no one could be sure whether the audience would accept this fully computer-animated feature.

The structure of Hollywood at that time was almost solidified: directors and producers dominated the fate of the works, capital held the future, and the ordinary creators who truly shaped the story could only flash by for a few seconds in the end credits. When a work succeeded, the value naturally flowed to the upper echelons, with little relation to those who worked late into the night.

Pixar chose a different path. Before the IPO, Jobs allowed a large number of employees to hold company equity—those who wrote code, built models, adjusted lighting, and rendered late into the night were all included in the future of the film. For a company whose main asset is this film, this meant that at the moment the film succeeded, they were also present.

The New York Times wrote: “Pixar has made a group of animators millionaires.” This is a rare crack in the film industry - for the first time, a bit of flow has moved horizontally from the hierarchical structure.

Of course, this sharing is still limited. Equity can only be distributed to employees and cannot reach the movie-loving audience, nor can it extend to a broader community of creators. Although the value has begun to loosen, it has not yet truly flowed out.

If the same thing happened today, the future earnings of the work, digital distribution, and licensing revenue could perhaps be broken down into finer details, reaching a broader and more genuine group of supporters. At that time, a film would not just be a work, but a spark of community, becoming more stable because it is supported by more people together.

3. Wine RWA: When the future of a barrel of wine is claimed in advance

Compared to the stage lights of music and movies, the story of wine always takes place in quieter places. More than twenty years ago in the spring of Bordeaux, the ground in the cellar still retained the moisture of winter, and rows of oak barrels sat there, the fate of the vintage slowly fermenting in the wood aroma. At that time, the structure of the wine industry was old and closed: the vintage belonged to the winery, the distribution rights belonged to the merchants, and ordinary people often could only see that bottle of wine many years later.

The emergence of En Primeur has caused a slight deviation in this path for the first time.

The wine is not yet bottled, and the flavor has not yet been finalized, but the winery is willing to entrust its future in advance, allowing people around the world to connect with this vintage before it is truly opened. For the winery, this means stable cash flow; for the wine merchants, it is pre-locked inventory; and for those who claim the wine period, it is a way to get closer to the vintage flavor in advance.

This is not radical financial innovation, but rather the first time that value flows out of a closed system. A barrel of wine is opened for the first time, no longer belonging solely to traditional channels, but partially falling into the hands of those who are willing to believe in it.

Of course, this kind of sharing is still limited. Prices are opaque, channels are restricted, and connections determine the entry threshold—En Primeur is like a half-open window, letting the wind blow in only a crack. But the direction is already clear enough: Value doesn’t need to wait until it’s “completed”; the future can be claimed right now.

If this were to happen today, the years might be divided more finely, and the participants would be more broadly connected. A barrel of wine is no longer just a drinking experience, but a period of time shared collectively.

4. Personal RWA: When a person's future is divided into one hundred thousand parts

If the future of wine is claimed in a barrel, then in 2008, in Portland, the future of an ordinary person is quietly unveiled in front of a computer screen. That year, Mike Merrill made an unprecedented decision: he divided himself into 100,000 shares, publicly offering them so that anyone willing to get close to him could participate in his future in a new way.

This is not experimental art, nor is it a joke, but rather a serious structure of life that he has established. Those who purchase shares in him can vote on his major decisions—whether to change jobs, whether to start a business, whether to enter a relationship, or even whether to change certain life habits. Those hesitations that should only belong to the inner self are gently caught by a strange yet sincere “shareholder group.”

Interestingly, this participation did not lead to things spiraling out of control; instead, it formed a new relationship. Shareholders would discuss his pressures, fret over his choices, and even care more about his future than he did himself. Years later, he recalled: “I entrusted my life to many people, and they showed me a version of myself that I could not have imagined.”

Of course, there are boundaries; it is like a beam of experimentation under the early light of the internet. But it brings to the surface, for the first time, an essential question: it turns out that even the most private aspects of life can, to some extent, be dissected, shared, and collectively carried by a group of people.

If this were to happen today, it might be expressed in a more moderate and safer way: time, skills, and creative direction would transform into smaller and more explicit participatory rights, rather than the extreme approach of “listing one's life.” That represents a new connection: part of one's destiny is in their own hands, while the other part of the future moves forward together with those willing to support you.

Music deconstructs the future of melody, film deconstructs the future of works, wine deconstructs the future of vintages, while what he deconstructs is the future of humanity itself.** The flow of value has for the first time touched upon the “individual,” which is the most difficult and also the most moving boundary.**

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Looking back at these four stories, they took place in different eras and different places: old songs in the recording studio, light and shadow in the animation studio, the years sleeping in a wooden barrel, and a person's decision made late at night in front of a computer. They originally had no connection, yet they all gently relaxed around one thing — value no longer flows in just one direction, but begins to spread sideways, outward, towards those who are willing to approach it.

We are used to thinking of value as something grand, believing it only belongs to certain institutions, certain industries, or certain people skilled in numbers. But these four stories remind us: value has always been hidden in the softest parts of life—a melody, a creation, the taste of a year's local customs, a person's hesitation and choices. They are moving because they show us that those things we thought would forever 'belong to others' can be gently opened up, allowing more people to approach, participate, and support.

Technology is merely a newcomer; it has not changed the essence of these stories, but has allowed connections that were originally small and confined to a small group of people to shine brighter and reach further. Perhaps this slight tremor of “value being redistributed” is the most worthwhile aspect of RWA.

No one can say for sure what the future will hold. But at least in these corners forgotten by time, we have already seen a few small but warm lights: value can be divided; the future can be shared; and perhaps the relationships between people will, as a result, become closer than they were in the past.

The story is not over; it has just begun to show its first glimpse. Real change may be quietly happening in places we have yet to see.