The future is often planned by those least likely to be there, or so it has begun to seem to some young residents of Silicon Valley. As living costs rise faster than most workers' earnings, many are forced to move deeper into California. PNS commentator Victor Saldana's family has been in Santa Clara for three generations. Saldana, 20, began writing for Youth Outlook last August.

The other night, on my way home from the ATM up the block, I saw an army of media vans over at city hall. I slipped the twenty in my pocket and sauntered over.

That's how I happened to be at the city council meeting slated to decide the fate of south San Jose.

At issue was whether to build a sprawling 688 acre "campus" for Cisco Systems in Coyote Valley, the last undeveloped spot in Silicon Valley. Environmentalists and community members have challenged the development because they think it will bring more traffic and higher rents. Supporters point to all the new jobs Cisco would attract to San Jose.

City hall was packed with predictables -- politicians, union members and environmentalists. Absent were young folks. In a crowd of 50, I looked like the only one under 25. I sat back and thought how once again the future of Silicon Valley was being sealed without the people who are supposed to be its future.

During the open mike section, I took the long walk to the podium. I said that even if Cisco delivers 20,000 new jobs, if they're temp jobs, we don't need them; we already have plenty of those. I kept quiet about my fears that new jobs might not be for locals anyway, but would go instead to folks on temporary work visas.

Afterward, the environmentalists patted me on the shoulder and the unionists asked if I needed a job. The next day the San Jose City Council announced its approval of the Cisco development.

All around me, decisions are being made about the future. Rapid transit is coming. So is a power plant. It feels as if a new high-tech firm appears downtown every other day.

The destiny of the city my friends and I call home is being set without us. I am plagued with questions: Will I be able to live here, to have a permanent job in the new Silicon Valley? Or will I be the last native son forced to move to Modesto -- we call it a refugee camp because so many people end up there when they can't afford to live in San Jose anymore.

Before, when my homeboys and I would get together at barbecues at Cunningham Park on the eastside, we used to be deep, at least 30. Now there are barely a handful.

We were told education is the key. But Rob, who used to do assembly work with me, went to a business college for two years. Now he's 27, and still repairing copy machines for Xerox -- he has the degree, but isn't making enough biscuits to move out of his parents' house.

Some of my friends blame the high-tech yuppies, some blame the immigrants (even though most of us come from immigrant backgrounds), and some blame the messed-up schools. Whatever the reason, we all feel as if the new San Jose is building an exit for us.

Some pretend its not happening. They wear nice business clothes and talk big, especially to women, about how they work at Intel, Applied Materials, or 3Com, making bank. The reality is that they are low-wage temps placed at those companies through an agency, and doing assembly and warehouse work.

Lying to themselves just makes them more depressed. In small groups, they talk about the high rents and wonder whether or not they will have their temp jobs next week, just like the rest of us.

Others talk themselves into believing that Sacramento, Modesto, or Stockton are attractive places to live. They say stuff like, "You guys have to move out of crowded San Jo, come out here where rent is hella cheap." But they know, as we know, that nothing is out there. That's why they always come back and hang out where they used to live in.