I hope that readers who are simply browsing the book will immediately recognize the difference between “philosophical warnings” and “trigger warnings.” While the latter aims to alert students and viewers to traumatic educational or media content, the former signals the existential consequences of ignoring these alerts. This explains why Greta Thunberg plays such a central role in the book. If she has managed to warn us more effectively than scientists, it’s not just because she humanized the climate crisis like few others—by going on strike and calling out numerous politicians whose inaction endangered our future—but mainly because she has changed our view of scientific warnings. When she questions the cultural belief that adults should teach children, she highlights that “adult knowledge” is no longer enough; it has become outdated and needs replacing. That’s why her call to panic is aimed at “normal” people—those who never skip school and are never forced to face an emergency. If “trigger warnings” protect us from emergencies, “philosophical warnings” draw us into awareness of absent emergencies—that is, warnings. The future will belong to warnings, or it will not exist at all.In sum, warnings, contrary to predictions, are not meant to persuade anyone. They are meant to pressure us into changing the present, which is heading in a dangerous direction. That is why I refer to them as signs from the future. However, the future of warnings differs from that of predictions. While predictions require us to submit—there is nothing we can do once we are told the virus has spread—warnings invite us to change that future because the virus will spread unless we act now. That’s why the French word “avenir” fits better to describe the future of warnings. Warnings point to what is to come (“a venir”), an unpredictable event we must be ready to listen to and interpret. The image I chose as the cover for this book is "Compound Eye," a sculpture by American artist Graham Caldwell; it’s a fitting illustration of what warnings are, as well as what makes them. As we approach the sculpture, the horizon seen through the mirrors widens, creating a sense of pressure that calls for a response. The different sizes of the mirrors demand that we interpret what they reflect, since what they reveal is never an objective view of reality. If we imagine a “politics of warnings,” its main concern would not be facts, truths, or the future that make up a warning, but rather the pressure we can exert to change the present. The political nature of warnings calls for practices—from philosophers, filmmakers, and journalists, among others—that are somehow more comprehensive, even if they produce fewer immediate political results.