Running AMOC

Chapter 6. Surprise, sometimes, will come around

I will surprise you sometime, I’ll come around, when you’re down (Interpol, “Untitled”)

Stockholm, March 2035

When I had finished the kitchen chores I went out for my usual constitutional along the harbour. It was cold but clear and pleasant. I ambled without purpose, and ended up at the famous “God our father on the rainbow” fountain. There I stood for a while, staring blankly at the place where the sun had set, hours before — and thinking. I still couldn’t understand how it had all worked out in the end. It had been quite a rollercoaster ride.

Glasgow, March 2027

That illustrious first viral fundraising action was nearly three years ago. The media and the public had mostly forgotten about the project; but not entirely. Luzmila and Elías had managed to keep the network of supporters and organisations alive. We had made sure that the preliminary results got press releases, so that there’d been a small but continuous trickle of posts, articles, podcasts, videos, interviews and local fundraisers that ensured we were not totally forgotten. Elías called it the background hum.

But now the time had come for a second round of fundraising, and unfortunately we did not get another viral idea. Still, thanks to a carefully managed media campaign (lots of interviews for me and Li-Zhen), our research got above-average attention and public support grew. Because we now had proper peer reviewed scientific results, and our science had, to paraphrase Ken MacLeod, been socially constructed, we got more traction with established green organisations and political parties, and that considerably extended our reach.

Also, for this round we needed less crowdfunding. We still had funds left from the first round, and although the national funding bodies were, as expected, on the whole too inflexible to react in time, several institutions and some independent funders had read the room and decided it would be good for their PR if they provided our teams with some funding. Thanks to all this, we once again met our targets and — at least financially and scientifically — all was well.

In fact, all was very well: the preprint of the paper was published at the end of April, and it did not go unnoticed. Cue an uptick in media attention for the project and the cause, more interviews, raised profiles all around, and even more crowdfunding.

But on a personal level, things weren’t going so well at all.

Rob and Laura had moved to Australia in March. We had scheduled regular calls, and at the first one, in April, I immediately sensed that there was something wrong. They both looked stressed and thoroughly unhappy.

Rob came right out with it: “We’ve been verbally abused and threatened by racists several times in the past weeks. It must be the area where we live. At first we couldn’t understand why they were picking on us, but we soon worked it out from the insults: these people think that we’re Malaysian immigrants. I looked it up, and there is a lot of racism directed specifically at Malaysian immigrants, probably because most of them are muslim. And to make it worse, the landlord of our flat is one of them too. He is now trying to get rid of us.”

I nodded my understanding, and wished I could give both of them a hug. I knew exactly how they felt. Racial abuse was nothing new to me. Fortunately I had been spared the worst of it after leaving the Netherlands, at least until the Brexit referendum. In Sweden and Scotland, people looking like me hadn’t been the most common targets, but Britain was swept up on the wave of xenophobia and inevitably some of it was directed at me. Rob takes after me in looks and I have my looks from my mother, so I’m very dark. (He takes after his father in temperament, not a good combination under the circumstances.) Laura’s ancestors came from Southern Italy, and despite her strawberry blond hair she looks quite exotic. With hindsight, it was not surprising that they had become a target for some ignorant and intolerant Australians.

I wondered if I should travel over there to support them, but I didn’t mention that yet. It was a desultory call as there was not much I could do except listen, and they were in a state where they totally regretted their decision to move. All I could suggest was not to do anything rash.

I am not a very social person, and not particularly amiable, but despite that I am somewhat overly sensitive to the moods and emotions of others, even people I don’t know very well. With Rob, I had always had that very strongly. I think, or rather I hope, that my own mother hadn’t been like me as I could be a very melancholy child, for no obvious reasons. Buried somewhere deep down in my mind though is a suspicion that she was, but never let it show.

I felt bad for Rob and Laura and the next days I didn’t get much done. I kept mulling over their situation. A week later, I had practically made up my mind to travel to Sydney.

But then I received another bombshell, this time an email from Li-Zhen: she had just been diagnosed with breast cancer. I called her right away. She looked the same as ever. I couldn’t discern the slightest worry on her face. I guess I must have looked a lot more frazzled. Li-Zhen was very businesslike about it: “Something showed during the routine screening, and today they did an MRI. It’s still small and there is no metastasis yet. It will be fine. I’m lucky, the oncology team here is very good and I can start treatment in a few weeks.”

I knew Li-Zhen was single, and that her parents were no longer alive, so I thought that right now she might need me even more than Rob and Laura. Maybe Australia could wait. “I can come over to look after you. I can be there by the time the treatment starts.”
“Don’t be absurd, Sigrid. There’s really no need. Don’t even think of it. I will be perfectly all right. They are going for neoadjuvant chemotherapy, and I think I can handle that. Please don’t worry, I only let you, Mirza and Eza know because it might impact on the project.”
“How you can think about the project at a time like this is beyond me… but I’m glad you think you’ll be fine.”
Usually we closed the connection with a quick wave and a short “Bye-bye” but this time I felt awkward about it. But Li-Zhen simply said, “I have another meeting now, I have to go now” and that was that.

The thought that I might lose Li-Zhen hit me like a brick. We’d only met once, long ago, but she was one of my best friends and I couldn’t imagine a life without her. I felt I had to do something, if only to deal with my fear.

I knew that Li-Zhen seriously underestimated the disruption the treatment would cause to her life. She would definitely need assistance. But maybe it could be purely practical and maybe she was right that she didn’t need me there.

So I arranged another meeting with Li-Zhen, together with Luzmila. She showed us what it really meant to be a community organiser: right away she hatched a plan for a support rota for Li-Zhen, relying on a network she just happened to have in Victoria, even though she lived right on the other side of Canada.
Li-Zhen initially didn’t want to hear of it. “I don’t have the energy to meet new people. And I won’t have time to deal with them. The treatment is going to take a lot of my time and I already don’t have any time to spare.”
She was clearly still in denial about the seriousness of her situation. But Luzmila explained, “You don’t have to meet any them if you want it that way. They’ll be invisible, just do your chores. It’ll just make your life easier.”
I chipped in, “The treatment means you’ll have to spend a lot of time at the clinic, so you’ll have a lot less time for housework.” I knew of course full well that it would be a lot worse. My mother had had cancer, and I remembered very well what an ordeal it had been. Even though treatments had improved, Li-Zhen was in for a very hard time. But I kept those thoughts to myself. Instead, I added “The volunteers can come when you are at the clinic, and have your house cleaned, shopping done and food ready when you return.”
Li-Zhen considered this for a while longer, and finally agreed “That makes sense. Thank you very much, Luzmila, this is incredibly generous of you and your friends. But I don’t want to take any more of their time than necessary, so wait until I’ve started my treatment, in a few weeks.”

So it was decided, and I was relieved: at least Li-Zhen wouldn’t be totally on her own. I could go back to worrying about Rob and Laura, and planning a trip to Australia. I was torn: on the one hand I didn’t want to fly because of the emissions. But on the other hand I felt I needed to be there. So I just hoped we wouldn’t be judged too harshly for the things we did for love.

But fate had other plans in store for Sigrid. On Himmelsfärds dag, like a bolt out of the blue, I got a text message from Stefan’s wife Greta, who had never contacted me before. All it said was that Stefan had died of a stroke and could I please tell Rob. I was dumbfounded, it was so utterly unexpected. Stefan and I weren’t close any more, especially after he had married, but we still kept in touch on and off and nothing had prepared me for this. When I had regained my composure I arranged an emergency call to tell Rob and Laura the bad news. They were understandably even more affected than I, especially Rob. He had always been close to his dad, and I could tell he was really distraught, even though he tried hard not to show it. It was heartrending. And yet, even in such dark times there was a silver lining: Stefan’s death took Rob and Laura’s minds completely off their personal troubles. They arranged right away to travel back to Stockholm for the funeral. I called Stefan’s wife to let her know, and to ask if I could help in any way. Stefan had several elder brothers and I knew Greta’s parents and sister were still alive too, so I wasn’t surprised when she said everything was being taken care of.

Stockholm, May 2027

The funeral was a humanist service followed by cremation, at the New Crematorium at Skogskyrkogården. Both my parents had been cremated there, ten years ago. It’s a peculiar modern building set in a pine forest and seeing it again, I felt a strange feeling close to nostalgia. I was suddenly overwhelmed by memories from my years in Sweden with my parents and my time with Stefan. I didn’t write anything on the pine casket.

After a traditional funeral meal of sandwiches and Prinsesstårta, I took Rob and Laura on a tour of Blockhusudden, to revisit my old haunts. It was good to be together. But I myself felt very strange. For the first time since my move to Scotland I was homesick for Stockholm, and I couldn’t understand it. There ought to be nothing to tie me to this place. But memories are a powerful force, and my defences were down. I thought of Legolas, “Alas for the wailing of the gulls!”

Stefan had always been a meticulous person so it was no surprise to me that his will had been in perfect order. Rob received a considerable sum. I gifted my share to him as well, and with that money they could afford to move to the neighbourhood of Sydney University, an area where racism was much less of an issue. I could see they both felt a lot better now they had a way to handle their situation. Maybe I wouldn’t have to go to Australia after all.

Helensburgh, June 2027

I had been back from Stockholm for a week when once again something totally unexpected happened, but this time in a good way. Li-Zhen, Mirza and I were having a project meeting a few days before Li-Zhen was to start chemo. At the close of the meeting, Mirza casually asked, “by the way Li-Zhen, I’m attending the OceanPredict symposium in Vancouver next week and I’d like to stay on for a few weeks after that. Could you host me? All I need is a place to sleep.”
We were both surprised but Li-Zhen didn’t hesitate for a moment, she was clearly delighted by the offer. “Of course, Mirza, you can stay at my place. But you know my situation. The next months are not going to be fun and I won’t have much time to work with you.”
Mirza smiled his enigmatic smile, “Of course, I realise that. Nevertheless, I’d be grateful if you could put me up. You won’t have to look after me, I promise I won’t be any trouble.”

Mirza was as hard to read as always, so it was impossible to know why he’d decided to do this, but his being there turned out a godsend. He ended up staying for three months and supported Li-Zhen while she suffered from the side effects of the chemo. Initially, I had been worried he might be falling for Li-Zhen, or the other way round. I knew he had a steady boyfriend in Busan and I liked all three of them a lot. But with hindsight I clearly had been worrying for nothing.

Next: Chapter 7. I’m relying on your common decency