In Texas, where I live, autumn comes through about one time in seven. Occasionally we'll get a beautiful, bright fall where the trees turn all sorts of colors before gracefully scattering their leaves. Usually the trees turn brown and drop their leaves overnight in a lump. I want to tell you a story about what happened one of those years when none of the trees wanted to put on a show, except one of them—and that one was an evergreen.

It was a cedar, in fact, and it stood in a forest of all kinds: oaks, walnuts, pears, hackberries, maples, willows, and pecans. Now cedars, as you know, never lose their leaves. They stay green all year round. But this particular cedar loved nothing better than to see the colors of fall. All through the scorching heat of summer she dreamed of a day when the north wind would bring frosty air down from the Rockies. Then the sun would shine bright from a clear, blue sky onto a festival of yellows and ambers, oranges and auburns, vermilions and russets and reds. She would shake out the dust from her limbs and breathe in the sweet air and feast her eyes on the colors all around her.

This particular autumn began as they all do, with a sudden sweep of cool air followed by three days of storms. The little cedar felt refreshed and happy. She rubbed her leaves in anticipation. But after a week or two, she began to notice that the other trees were only turning brown.

She went to the oaks and said, "Great oaks, autumn has come, yet you haven't turned beautiful colors. Why are you only turning brown?"

"Ah, little cedar," the oaks answered, "we haven't had enough rain. We need water to turn lovely colors, but our roots are dry and our mouths are parched and all we can do is turn brown."

The little cedar felt very sad for the oaks. Then she went to the pecans and said, "Mighty pecans, autumn has come, yet you haven't turned beautiful colors. Why are you only turning brown?"

"My goodness, little cedar," the pecans answered, "it's hardly worth it, is it? I mean, we do all that work to make a little splash of color, then all our leaves fall off as soon as a puff of wind comes along. Why go to all the trouble?"

The little cedar felt rather angry at the pecans. Then she went to the maples and said, "Beautiful maples, autumn has come, yet you haven't turned beautiful colors. Why are you only turning brown?"

"Well, little cedar," the maples answered, and they smiled condescendingly, "it's not exactly fashionable anymore, I dare say. Bright colors are well out this year—haven't you heard? Browns are so much more understated, don't you think—so much more sophisticated. We wouldn't be caught dead in the bright oranges and reds we wore last year." And they droned on like this for some time.

The little cedar felt bewildered by the maples. As the sun set, she sensed a frosty bite in the air that told her winter would soon arrive. Then all the trees would lose their leaves, and she would have to wait a whole year for the chance to see them turn again. The little cedar looked up to the budding stars and said, "Please, please let me see lovely autumn leaves before winter comes." And she fell asleep with tears dripping down her branches.

She awoke the next morning to the sounds of gasps and whispers. She looked around. The sky was blue, the air was crisp, and the forest buzzed with excitement. Yet everywhere she looked, the little cedar saw only brown, dry trees, and she wondered what had captured everyone's attention. Then she realized that what they were all looking at…was her.

She looked down at her limbs and saw that her own leaves had changed from dark green to all the colors of autumn: yellows and ambers, oranges and auburns, vermilions and russets and reds.

She shook with joy. She was very beautiful, and she reveled in the breeze and the sunlight. The whole forest admired her—even the maples—and she gloried in her colors for the rest of the autumn.

I propose the formation of a National Mint for the production of a new kind of currency: the Cassandra Coin. Don't misunderstand: this is not a new kind of dollar. In fact, the Cassandra Coin has no monetary value. Its value lies in its ability to grant power to individuals who know what's best but nobody listens to them. Here's how it works.

Let's say you make an insightful prediction—for instance, that your company's investment in rubber tree tea will eventually prove unprofitable, or that your CFO with the gambling habit will be indicted for embezzlement in the next six months. Of course, everyone around you ignores your prediction, and in the old days you would have no recourse but to watch your organization pirouette into flames.

In the new system I am proposing, you have another option. First, you write down your prediction and send a copy to the Prophecy Copyright Bureau. The Bureau registers your signature, notes the date of submission, and safeguards your prophetic document. Then, when your prediction comes true, you present the registered prophecy to the organization to which it applied. That organization is bound by law to immediately and publicly present you with a framed (but easily accessible) Cassandra Coin.

What good is it? Initially, its chief value is bragging rights. Perhaps it hangs on your cubical wall for a month or two, mute testimony to your smug (though empty) self-satisfaction. Yet it does not remain there, because the Cassandra Coin is far more than a mere symbol. The glory of the Cassandra Coin lies in the power it grants you, its bearer.

Legally, throughout the nation, the Cassandra Coin gives you the right to exchange it for immediate—albeit temporary—dictatorial authority. That's right. Any company, any organization must honor this rule, that wherever you are, whenever you choose, you may exchange the Cassandra Coin for the right to make a single high-level decision. The organization is bound to carry out your wish no matter how outlandish it may seem. Your invocation of the Cassandra Coin buys the right to enact a single, crucial decision: by fiat, without consultation, no questions asked.

And what could be more sensible? After all, your ownership of the Coin certifies that at least one of your prior insights went unheeded. You expressed your concerns for the good of the group, as a responsible employee, as a conscientious citizen. Yet they laughed at you, called you a naysayer, marginalized you, and beat you down. Then you watched helplessly as those in power sent your organization careening into the ground. What could be more equitable or fair than that you would be granted the opportunity to prevent a similar disaster?

The Cassandra Coin embodies that idea and makes it a concrete reality. It grants you the authority to do what you were denied in the past: to steer your leaders away from horrific blunders.

Note that a crucial feature of the Cassandra Coin is its transferability from place to place. When predictions go unheeded, destruction often follows. This means that the prophet who foresaw destruction often ends up in a new organization. When the new organization heads down a dangerous path, the prophet has even less power than before, with even less seniority and reputation. The Cassandra Coin counteracts this effect by empowering its bearer nationwide. The death of your former company no longer means the death of the respect you deserve for predicting it.

The Cassandra Coin I'm proposing offers many benefits. The benefit to you is that it frees you from the torture of endlessly foreseeing catastrophes you are helpless to prevent. The benefit to your organization is that they receive a timely, wise intervention from a person who has—with certifiable accuracy—foretold doom in the past. The benefit to our nation is healthier, more successful, less error-prone businesses, administrations, and institutions. Overbearing, overpaid, hubris-filled leaders everywhere will now be subject to immediate—if momentary—correction at their most critical moments, by exactly those people most qualified to accurately adjust the course.