Category: Global minds
How to save the world (according to kids)
When you’re eight years old, you know exactly how to save the planet.
You’ve got enough imagination to turn house roaches into electricity, invent a Kindness Machine, a Rain Button, or at least a Pill for Melancholy.
Here at The Global Technology magazine, we decided to revisit that bright, naive time when you could conquer the world not with a sword, but with an idea—and recall all those great inventions we nearly patented in the first grade. We dusted off every childhood strategy for world domination and honestly shared what once felt like the most important thing in the universe.
The answers lie ahead. Warning: After reading, you might feel the urge to break something… or fix it with duct tape and sheer genius.
What did you dream of inventing?
How did you plan to conquer the world?
What seemed most important to you?
Katya’s Story
“Don’t argue—just hug it out.”
When I was little, sugar was rationed for a while—every chocolate bar felt like a real event. Such a big one, that I still remember the wrappers. That’s why I wanted to invent a home machine to make real chocolate candies.
With pointe shoes and tutus. Instead of cartoons, I watched Swan Lake. Later, I had to graduate from ballet school to realize I’d have to conquer the world in a different way.
I waited for holidays just to have the whole family together. It always seemed like relatives should live next door and see each other more often.
Ira’s Story
“HELP! The cat’s stolen my pacifier!”
I’ve hated waking up early since childhood. Every morning was the same: tears, frantic rushing, arguments, bribes, and a mad dash to avoid being late. That’s why I desperately wanted to invent a flying bed—just hit a button, and it would gently lift into the air, delivering me to my destination while I kept sleeping. Bonus: I could even fly it to friends’ houses for visits.
In my kid-logic, the mechanics were simple:
Balloon-powered lift: Tie enough helium balloons to the sides, and voilà—instant levitation.
“Launch button” hack: An old doorbell glued to the bed with a lump of modeling clay.
Of course, my bed never actually took off… but it did look gloriously weird.
World domination? Never crossed my mind. Somehow, I skipped those grand ambitions. Back then, the only things that mattered were not losing Mom and Dad and not getting lost myself.
Ulyana’s Story
“Why fly to the stars if I am already a star?”
I used to dream that someone would hurry up and invent a mind-reading machine for talented people—one that could instantly bring all their ideas to life. If I’d had one, I’d have transmitted entire cartoons or movies straight from my brain. Picture this: I’d imagine the plot, characters, and dialogues, and by morning, the machine would spit out a finished film, ready to watch.
Mom loves telling the story of how she once asked me and my twin sister: “What do you want to be when you grow up?” My sister said, “An astronaut,” while I got up from the table, walked to the mirror, and declared: “Why would I need to be anything? I’m already pretty!” I guess, I was planning to conquer the world with beauty from the start.
And since I do have a twin sister, the most important thing for me was always keeping my identity—and making sure I stood out from the crowd.
Ilya’s Story
“If everyone becomes a lawyer, who will then be the wizard?”
Sure, I was an average Soviet kid—but deep down, I’d been an engineer-inventor since childhood. I was obsessed with designing wild machines to solve impossible problems. Pencil in hand, I’d sketch blueprints for future inventions, just like in that kids’ song. Later, I found friends who shared my madness: boys dreaming of perpetual motion machines or tea-serving robots. Then came the computer, and boom—my focus sharpened to a laser point: programming.
I always knew I’d be an engineer. But it crushed me when adults said the world needed economists, lawyers, managers—anything but us. Yet here I am, grown up and (to my shock and joy) realizing: the world does need engineers after all. Every job matters, sure—but it’s inventors, engineers, and coders who turn dreams into real things.
Back then, I never thought about the “big world.” It seemed untouchable. I cared only about my tiny universe: the courtyard, the neighborhood kids, and how to build cool stuff for them—welding a swing set, soldering a radio, or cobbling together a toy tractor from scrap parts.
And y’know what? Maybe I still think that way. The only difference—my “courtyard” got a little bigger.
Artem’s Story
“If I go home now, they won’t let me back out.”
All I ever wanted was to invent a button. Not just any button—a rewind button. One that could flip time backward if things went sideways. Said something dumb? Click. Undo. Forgot to do your homework? Click. Done.
I pictured carrying it in my backpack like some kind of playground superhero. Fixing fights between friends. Rescuing strangers from awkward moments.
But the real magic wasn’t the button—it was the feeling behind it: that screwing up wasn’t the end of the world. That no one would laugh at you or yell.
Ilyas’s Story
“Okay, I GoT it—not to touch the iron because it’s hot. Mom, I’ve burnt myself…”
Apparently, my path to knowledge has always gone through personal experience since childhood.
All I dreamed about was inventing a pill that would make your brain work like a supercomputer. Take it, and suddenly: you remember everything after seeing it just once, your thoughts race faster than light, textbooks basically read themselves. No more wasting time on boring memorization. Finally, you can actually live—hang out with friends, play games, and do only what’s interesting for you. And of course, become the coolest, smartest, most charismatic version of yourself. All thanks to one little pill!
My strategy to conquer the world was simple: become someone people wanted to follow—a mix of Lenin’s passion, Sakharov’s brilliance, and George Carlin’s sharp humor. So inspiring that crowds would naturally gather around me. I’d unite people, ignite their minds, and together we’d build a better world—no stupid rules, no dull routines. Just energized people with fire in their eyes and ideas sparking nonstop. Maybe not a full revolution… but definitely a major upgrade for humanity.
More than anything, I wanted to leave my mark—not just disappear into the crowd. I imagined someone, a hundred years later, saying, “Now THAT was someone special. Smart, full of life, bursting with ideas.” Or even better, “That’s the guy who invented the pill and started the whole movement.”
Diana’s Story
“The words ‘thunder’ [grom] and ‘enormous’ [ogromny] aren’t related! Because ‘enormous’ means BIG, but ‘thunder’… thunder is just BOOOOM!!!”
As a kid, I was obsessed with inventing a time machine. Like most children, I devoured books about dinosaurs, Ancient Egypt, and Greek mythology—closing each one with the same thought: “What if I could actually go there?” Today we have VR that can simulate any reality, but back then? A time machine was the only ticket. I never built it, of course. Never saw a T-Rex up close, never traded secrets with a pharaoh… but who knows? Maybe it’s still in my future.
At a more advanced age, I began to devote a lot of time to art in all its forms. I wanted everything at once: to sing, dance, act in theater, star in movies, draw, write poetry, play the piano, and be famous worldwide. Back then, it seemed like the pinnacle of self-realization because if you have worldwide fame, it means you truly matter. I haven’t become famous around the world yet, but an endless love for art still lives within me to this day. It is precisely because of art that I found my profession and calling, and fame… That was fundamentally important for little Diana from the past; now, the current Diana looks at things more realistically. But if my dream does come true someday, I definitely won’t mind. 😉
Gerda’s Story
“Soon, everyone who knew you will brag about it! But now—it’s lunch time.”
Grandma
“You’re tall! And you’ll have the prettiest dress.”
Grandpa
“March in formation? My legs are worth more than that!”
Gerda
“Eat Snickers and Mars from dawn to dusk, and you’ll be my chocolate-covered daughter!”
Dad
As a kid, I did two things constantly: read books and wield a screwdriver. I loved taking things apart—fans, Grandpa’s radio, toys, game consoles—then putting them back together. I also enjoyed testing the heat resistance resistance of different objects on the stove. Later, I started to dismantle and assemble the invisible, then the unimaginable.
I also studied languages—but not the usual ones. Anyone can learn French or Spanish; I wanted languages no one understood. Where’s the mystery in a language everyone speaks? Can you really encrypt something using it? Real magic lies in symbols that hide entire worlds. So I dreamed of inventing my own—a language to share only with a chosen few.
My best friend Lena was hard of hearing. Kids bullied her; she cried often, crushed by being “different.” One day, I swore to her: “I’ll become a scientist. I’ll invent something to give you back your hearing.”
I never wanted to conquer the world—just to show people choices where they’d only seen dead ends.
The worst thing in the world? Finishing a book. That was my true childhood heartbreak.
Polya’s Story
“When I grow up, I will never draw! Because all artists are poor.”
Little Polya adored films about Africa and was a true wild-eyed visionary—oh, the things she dreamed up! She still remembers standing at the kindergarten sink, washing her hands, when it hit her: what if the water didn’t just vanish? If it flowed into a special tank, got purified, and circled back through the faucet—imagine how much water the planet could save!
I wanted to stand among the women who conquered galaxies, dead-set on becoming a cosmonaut. Athletics? Loved it. Studies? A grind. So, that dream of storming the universe stayed just that—a dream. Becoming a legendary artist never crossed my mind; I was convinced the greatest only got famous posthumously.
More than anything, I wished—cliché or not—for world peace. Back then, my whole world was my grandma and sister. Maybe that’s why, even now, my aches for every soul on Earth to be happy. As a kid, I’d muse: Wouldn’t it be magic if everyone just… got along? After all, what unites us dwarfs what divides.
We’ve ventured beyond the boundaries of time and space. By the way, it’s empty there.
Thank you!
