Prologue
Kyōto, April 2030
The vagaries of fate are like the waves on the ocean. They all have a distinct cause and origin, but when they break on the beach, it is no longer possible to disentangle them.
You might have read or heard in the media about the breakthrough in climate modelling that led to a dramatic and much needed improvement in forecasting of severe weather events, and thereby has helped save countless lives. I had a small part in that story, one that was not mentioned in the official press releases and interviews, nor in the scientific paper. I had insisted on that at the time.
The events date from 2027, but the past three years of my life have been chaotic. That summer, my wife fell ill and I looked after her until she died, seven months later. Then I had to tie up all the loose ends that arise when someone so close to you dies. I don’t remember much of it, or maybe it is more accurate to say that I don’t want to remember it. It was like walking through a world of fog. When everything was finally settled, I felt a great emptiness. I considered going back to my homeland, but it held no attractions for me, and I had no longer any ties there. My wife and I had both loved Kyōto, and I thought I’d feel closer to her memory there. So I settled my affairs in the UK and moved to Japan. A simple sentence, but it proved to be anything but simple, and I could not have done it without help.
However, I am in Kyōto now, and it is the season of the cherry blossoms. I think sakura in Japan is only a cliché to those who haven’t experienced it. Simply sitting here, watching the warm wind blow a storm of pink and white petals, deeply moves me. But I’m digressing. I now finally have time and space in my mind to tell my story.
Next: Chapter 1: Models of circulation