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EL FIN DEL MUNDO

KJ DWYER

CAST:

Mercedes Coleman Juarez (37), Argentine-American professor of Climate Studies

Robert Coleman (43), American-Argentine accountant, Mercedes’ brother

Waiter/Andrés Juarez (17), an Argentine teenager, Mercedes’ son

Michael (early 20’s), an American exchange student (can be doubled by the same

actor playing Andrés)

SETTING:

The entire play takes place in Ushuaia, Tierra del Fuego, Argentina, present day.

Scene 1 – a fine restaurant

Scene 2 – a lecture hall/auditorium – the front porch of the Sullivan family home

"The farther backward you can look, the farther forward you can see.” – Winston Churchill



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SCENE 1 (A fine restaurant in Ushuaia, Tierra del Fuego, Argentina. MERCEDES, 37, waits at a table alone drinking a glass of wine. ROBERT, 43, arrives and a WAITER, 17, tries to help him to a table, but ROBERT seeing MERCEDES breezes by without acknowledging him.) ROBERT: Mercedes? MERCEDES: Hello, Robert. ROBERT: Tanto tiempo (he goes to hug her). MERCEDES: (Lets him hug her awkwardly) Yes, a very long time. ROBERT: Perdón. (Pause) ¿Qué tomamos? MERCEDES: Malbec. Can I pour you a glass? ROBERT: Sí, sí. Fantástico. MERCEDES: Así que, ¿vamos a hablar en castellano? ROBERT: Como quieras. MERCEDES: I’m surprised you’ve been able to maintain your Spanish. ROBERT: Really? I was 18 when I left. It’s pretty much baked in. Your English, on the other hand – MERCEDES: – is just fine, thank you – ROBERT: – I was going to say excellent – MERCEDES: – so if you’re more comfortable – ROBERT: Como quieras.



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MERCEDES: Let’s speak English, then. I’ve been teaching a seminar for some American exchange students, so I’m in the mindset. And, since everyone else is speaking Spanish, we can speak more freely. ROBERT: As you like. MERCEDES: (Pouring a glass of wine) If you remember, we never spoke Spanish at home. Dad was pretty strict about that. ROBERT: I guess that’s . . . yeah. MERCEDES: So why start now? ROBERT: English it is. (They toast; ROBERT notices the wine’s label) “Bodega Fin del Mundo”. Ha. I forgot how everything down here is “El Fin del Mundo”. The End of the World this, the End of the World that . . . MERCEDES: How is he? ROBERT: Dad? Good, good. Busy as ever. MERCEDES: I imagine. Shame he couldn’t be here. ROBERT: Well . . . MERCEDES: You came alone, then? ROBERT: I think I mentioned in the e-mails, it was too much for the whole family. The flights are ridiculously expensive. Jenny’s school, Sheila’s job, etc. We couldn’t – MERCEDES: I understand. ROBERT: Your husband? MERCEDES: Javier. What about him? ROBERT: Will he be joining us? MERCEDES: No, he’s in Buenos Aires on business.



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ROBERT: Oh. (Pause) And Anders? MERCEDES: Anders? What, are we Swedish? Andrés. Your nephew’s name is Andrés. ROBERT: Andrés, sorry. MERCEDES: Jesus, . . . ROBERT: I’m sorry. I . . . So will he be joining us? MERCEDES: He’s working. ROBERT: Later, then. MERCEDES: We’ll see. ROBERT: So what’s good here? MERCEDES: Fish. ROBERT: It’s all fresh, I assume. MERCEDES: You have been gone a long time. ROBERT: Force of habit. Should we start with an appetizer, then? MERCEDES: Please, I’m ravenous. ROBERT: ¡Mozo! WAITER: Si señor. ROBERT: ¿Mejillones para empezar? MERCEDES: Yum. ROBERT: Los mejillones, por favor. ¿Ya sabés que te gustaría para después?



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MERCEDES: No, let’s just start with the mussels. ROBERT: Nada más por ahora. Ordenaremos el plato principal luego. WAITER: Como no. ¿Quieren agua, con gas, sin gas? MERCEDES: Sin. ROBERT: Con. MERCEDES: Una de cada una. WAITER: Bueno, como no. (WAITER leaves) MERCEDES: So, is the hotel to your liking? ROBERT: Lovely. Thanks for arranging it for me. MERCEDES: No problem. You know you’re welcome to stay at the house. ROBERT: I know. Thank you, but I think I’ll be more comfortable at the hotel. So what time tomorrow? MERCEDES: Noon. ROBERT: At the house? MERCEDES: No. The church. Then the cemetery. Afterwards we’ll have people to the house. ROBERT: Okay. MERCEDES: Must be strange for you. ROBERT: What’s that? MERCEDES: Coming back after all these years. (Pause) It’s changed, hasn’t it? ROBERT: Unbelievable. So much more developed. I hardly recognize it.



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MERCEDES: Cruise ships. Eco-tourism. There’s a lot of renewed interest in Antarctica, what with climate change, etc. For tourism, the ships only operate from late October through April/May, more or less, but for the local economy it’s enough to live on the rest of the year. ROBERT: Extraordinary. MERCEDES: A little slow; some would say boring in the off-season. Well, you remember. ROBERT: Did she suffer? MERCEDES: Toward the end, . . . who knows? Earlier on, yes. There was some suffering. ROBERT: I’m sorry. MERCEDES: You didn’t kill her. ROBERT: You know what I mean. MERCEDES: That it was left to me to care for her? That you weren’t here? ROBERT: Well, yes, for starters. MERCEDES: You left a long time ago. It never crossed my mind to expect you to do anything. ROBERT: That’s a little harsh. MERCEDES: It’s not meant to be harsh. It’s just how it was . . . is. Geography. Seriously, I never expected anything from you. ROBERT: Okay. (WAITER comes to the table with the waters) WAITER: ¿Con o sin gas para vos? MERCEDES: Sin.



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WAITER: Y con gas para el caballero. ¿Quieren hielo? MERCEDES: Si. ROBERT: No. WAITER: Vuelvo con hielo, entonces. (WAITER leaves) MERCEDES: Look, I haven’t seen you in nearly 25 years. I was, what, 12 when you and dad left? And let’s be honest, we were never really that close; the age difference; daddy’s boy, mama’s girl. ROBERT: Planes fly both ways. Dad offered plenty of times to fly you up to Berkeley. MERCEDES: Like that would entice me. I don’t even remember living there. ROBERT: In all those years, you couldn’t visit. Not once? MERCEDES: And you? ROBERT: I did my time here. Eight years. MERCEDES: You make it sound like a prison. ROBERT: You’re not far off. MERCEDES: I don’t remember you being that unhappy here. ROBERT: No? MERCEDES: Only at the end. When grandpa died. I remember you playing football – I’m sorry “soccer” with your friends. The Alvarez boys – boys, men. They still ask about you. “¿Cómo está Roberto? ¿Oíste de él?” You and Gustavo were thick as thieves. ROBERT: Gus, ha. MERCEDES: Then, suddenly, you were angry and gone. ROBERT: You were too young to understand.



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MERCEDES: I was old enough by that point. ROBERT: But not when we moved here. You said yourself you don’t even remember ever living in California. MERCEDES: Let’s not get into this. I wasn’t saying that I hadn’t seen you in 25 years as an accusation. ROBERT: No? MERCEDES: No. It’s just a fact. I don’t blame you for anything. ROBERT: Really. MERCEDES: I mean I did, at first. I was 12; you can imagine. Your little girl, Jennifer, is 12 now, isn’t she? ROBERT: Yes. MERCEDES: Then you can understand what that must have been like for me. And my Andrés is nearly 18, so I’m reminded every day just how young you were when you left. I get it. I honestly don’t blame you. ROBERT: But . . . ? MERCEDES: I don’t know you. Who you are now. ROBERT: Okay. MERCEDES: So before assuming any kind of familial intimacy – introduce you to my son – I need to get to know you first. Your intentions. ROBERT: My intentions? MERCEDES: Yes. ROBERT: Our mother just died. I intend to be at her funeral. MERCEDES: And then?



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(WAITER arrives with the mussels) WAITER: Los mejillones. ¿Puedo traerles algo más? ROBERT: El hielo? WAITER: Ay, sí. Perdón. (WAITER leaves to get the ice) ROBERT: Oh my god, those smell good, don’t they? (ROBERT begins serving himself) I can’t believe your Andrés is nearly 18. You were, what, 20 when you had him? With your studies and fieldwork, I’m amazed you were able to juggle everything. MERCEDES: Those early years, mama helped raise Andrés as if he were her own son. ROBERT: Can I serve you some? MERCEDES: Not right now. So, back to your intentions . . . ROBERT: I’m sorry, what did you ask me? MERCEDES: After mama’s funeral, what are your plans? ROBERT: Well, obviously, there’s the estate. MERCEDES: Yes, of course. You being the oldest and the son. ROBERT: You know that has nothing to do with it. We’re herederos forzosos. You know that’s the law here. I’ll be there because I have to be. MERCEDES: That’s right, because even if you were to, let’s say, refuse your half, it would require you be here to legally execute such a document. ROBERT: Well, I’m not sure that’s entirely true – MERCEDES: So, are you planning to?



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ROBERT: What? MERCEDES: Refuse your half of mama’s estate. ROBERT: No. MERCEDES: Are you moving back to Ushuaia? ROBERT: Uh, no. MERCEDES: So you’ll just leave things as they stand and fly back to the U.S.? ROBERT: Can we, maybe, talk about this later. I only just got here. Why not have a nice dinner before launching into all of this. MERCEDES: You’re here for how long? ROBERT: Just the week. MERCEDES: I see, so we’re going to bury mama and settle everything before you need to fly back to the U.S. in a week. Is that the idea? Because, if so, I think we should launch into “all of this.” ROBERT: Fine. I think we should consider selling . . . or leasing. MERCEDES: And there it is . . . ROBERT: You had to know that was an option. We should at least consider it. MERCEDES: I’m curious, do you have a specific buyer – or tenant – in mind? (Silence) MERCEDES: I cannot believe it. ROBERT: Mercedes, this is not our battle. MERCEDES: It is now. That’s not going to happen. ROBERT: Mechi . . .



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MERCEDES: I’m telling you it’s not going to happen. (WAITER arrives with the ice) WAITER: El hielo para el caballero. ROBERT: Ahora, no. ¡Andate! MERCEDES: Don’t talk to him like that. You’re not in the States. ROBERT: Oh god . . . MERCEDES: Apologize. ROBERT: Perdóname. MERCEDES: El hielo es para mí. Gracias. WAITER: ¿Todo bien? MERCEDES: Todo bien. Gracias. Nada más, por ahora. (WAITER leaves) ROBERT: We can talk about this later. Why don’t we just enjoy the food. MERCEDES: It doesn’t end. Do you know we’re the exact same age mama and dad were when they broke up? We’re just picking up the fight where they left off. Insane. Sick. ROBERT: I’ve been traveling for over 24 hours. I’m a little tired and cranky. Can we please just enjoy the meal? Have some mussels. MERCEDES: You know you don’t have to be his proxy. ROBERT: And you don’t have to carry her torch. There’s no logical reason not to sell or lease. Use your head.



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MERCEDES: I may not have had the benefit of an American university education, but I do have a Ph.D., so when speaking to me you would do well to steer clear of phrases like “use your head”. ROBERT: Fine, then explain to me why we shouldn’t sell or lease. MERCEDES: Selling or leasing is not the problem. It’s the “to whom”. ROBERT: And what’s to stop whomever we sell to from turning around and taking the deal you refuse to? MERCEDES: You just ended two different clauses with prepositions in one sentence. Congratulations. ROBERT: Oh for god’s sake. MERCEDES: I’m sorry, I was using my head. ROBERT: The second “to” was an implied infinitive. MERCEDES: Oh, so you were only half wrong. Dad would be so proud. ROBERT: Just answer the question. MERCEDES: We make sure whomever we deal with won’t be destroying the environment. ROBERT: “Destroying the environment.” That’s a little heavy handed, don’t you think? MERCEDES: No, as a matter of fact, I don’t think. ROBERT: The only people interested in leasing that property want the oil. MERCEDES: You don’t know that. ROBERT: Then why has it just been sitting there the last 30 years? MERCEDES: Mama never looked for anyone else to lease it.



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ROBERT: Oh please. You know that’s bullshit. MERCEDES: It is not bullshit. How would you know? You weren’t here. It’s what happened. If we can’t find a suitable buyer or tenant, then we don’t sell and we don’t lease. We find some way to protect it. ROBERT: From whom? MERCEDES: You know from whom! ROBERT: For whom, then? With what money? At some point the family trust will run out, if it hasn’t already. You can afford the property taxes? I sure as hell can’t! It may be the most galling thing you’ll ever have to do, but what choice do you have? What choice do we have? This was the crux of dad’s argument all those years ago and mama was too stubborn to hear it. And now here we are, exactly where he said we’d be. And for what? She split this family in half over some sentimental idea about her family’s estancia. MERCEDES: That’s not why – ROBERT: (overlapping) You think it was so easy for me to leave you, and mama? That we weren’t that close? You think I was just some callow 18-year-old blindly following dad back to the U.S.? Well I wasn’t. I understood his argument then and I still do. And I frankly hated her . . . stubbornness. Moving us down here on the vague promise of a better life and then pissing away her family’s fortune holding onto an “estancia”, a paradigm that’s been virtually dead for years. MERCEDES: No, not buying into another paradigm that destroys the climate. ROBERT: Oh please. She knew nothing about the climate, the environment. That wasn’t her reason. MERCEDES: She knew enough to know what that land would look like right now had she done what you’re suggesting. There are plenty of examples of folks around here who did. She did care about environment. Maybe not in the Climate Science sense, but in the sense of – for the sake of – conservation, yes, she did care. She saw the Exxon Valdez catastrophe, the Bhopal disaster. She wasn’t completely ignorant. She wasn’t pining to re-live some feudal existence, but she had deep reservations about what those oil companies would have done to her land. Even if she was operating on nothing but her gut, her instincts were right.



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ROBERT: And yet, here we are. You and I. We’re not nation states. We have no voice, we’re nothing, nobody, in this conversation. We have no place at the table to effect any real change. What effect did mama’s campaign of inaction have on the environment? Tell me. Besides delaying the inevitable and throwing away decades of financial security for this family, breaking us in half in the process, what did she accomplish? MERCEDES: Financial security. What do you, what do any of us know about financial insecurity? You seem to be well fed. Your family is intact. You’ve got a career, a home, a child, I’m assuming, who’s not starving. Your adopted country, – ROBERT: (overlapping) – excuse me, birth country – MERCEDES: – the richest on earth, has one out of two children requiring food assistance – the worst of any developed nation on earth, by the way – ROBERT: (overlapping) – you’re making my point – MERCEDES: You’re telling me those are your circumstances? (Silence) No, I didn’t think so, and you’re going to talk to me about our financial insecurity? This isn’t about security or insecurity, this is about greed and you couch your greed in political impotence. ROBERT: Because we are impotent! Yes, I want more for my kid. No, I don’t want to have to take out a second mortgage to send her to university or saddle her with enormous debt before she even graduates. You have no idea the pressures people like us are under in the U.S. MERCEDES: Oh my god . . . ROBERT: It’s true! We may not be starving, but we’re hanging on by a thread. Sheila and I did the math – MERCEDES: (overlapping) – of course you did, ever the accountant – ROBERT: – and if one of us were to lose our jobs, or if a catastrophic illness were to threaten any of us, we’d be bankrupt in a matter of weeks. Not months, weeks. We have no real savings to speak of. Lots of debt, lots of credit to incur more debt, but nowhere near what’s necessary to feel any real sense of security. Are there people



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worse off than us? Of course. Of course there are, but is that really the standard? Because there are so many people starving in the U.S., anyone who can get by should just shut up and be happy with their piece of the pie? I have no right to complain? I have no right to want more for my family? A better future for them? MERCEDES: If you think drilling for more oil represents a better future for your family, then I don’t know what to say to you. Americans, – ROBERT: (overlapping) – oh please, you’re half American, too. Don’t play that card – MERCEDES: – the past is yesterday and the future is tomorrow. That’s your timeframe. You have no sense of history, never question the long-term effects of anything as you go barreling forward. And just when I think it can’t possibly get any worse, when you’ve hit the bedrock of your short-sighted, depraved indifference, you go “fracking” for new depths. You want a better future for your family? You can’t even define the future; you can’t even conceive it. If you could, believe me, you wouldn’t even consider what you’re planning on doing. But no, rather than fight for an alternative, you make the calculation, “oh well, may as well get mine”, right? I mean that’s basically what you’re saying. ROBERT: I’m saying we – you and I sitting at this table – have no choice. Under these circumstances, we have no choice. MERCEDES: That’s not true. (She reaches for a document-size envelope in her bag/attaché) ROBERT: Well here’s something that is not up for debate. Although mama, while she was alive, had final say over what happened to that land, you dear sister, for all your talk and Ph.D., do not. We are equal partners in this – herederos forzosos – and I will not let you shame me into working against our own interests. You can fight me, but ultimately you will lose. Our prospective buyer/tenant has an army of lawyers ready to back me up. We are going to sell or lease that land and there’s nothing – nothing – you can do to stop it. MERCEDES: Well. That didn’t take long . . . big brother. After a speech like that, shouldn’t you rip off your shirt, beat your chest and eat all the mussels? ROBERT: No, I’ll let you enjoy them. (ROBERT gets up to leave) As you say, you’re ravenous.



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MERCEDES: This conversation is not over. ROBERT: It is tonight. MERCEDES: Sit down. ROBERT: I’ll see you at the funeral tomorrow. WAITER: Discúlpenme, ¿hay algo mal con los mejillones? ROBERT: ¿Estás ciego? ¿No podés ver que es un mal momento para interrumpir? Debés aprender más discreción, nene. WAITER: Y usted debe comportarse mejor en público, señor, especialmente con – ROBERT: ¿Qué me dijiste? MERCEDES: Robert, I’d like you to meet your nephew, Andrés. Andrés, este es tu tío, Robert. ROBERT: “He’s working.” Clever. Well that’s lovely. Using your son like that. Mama’s weakness with a healthy dose of dad’s cruelty. The worst of both. MERCEDES: I’ll define you later. ROBERT: Perdóname, Andrés. Vamos a tener que hablar después. (ROBERT exits) ANDRÉS: ¿Después de que? ¿Por qué no me dijiste? CURTAIN



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SCENE 2 (The lectern and large video screen of an academic lecture hall Stage R the morning of the funeral. The audience represents the “class”. Using the screen, there should be every effort to create sophisticated visual imagery to compliment the lecture; something akin to a TED talk. Stage L is the front porch of the Sullivan family home where ANDRES sits reading an issue of National Geographic the afternoon after the funeral. ANDRES can/will play both himself and MICHAEL, an American exchange student in MERCEDES’ class, from one side of the stage to the other, or if another actor plays MICHAEL, he should/could be seated in the audience.) MERCEDES: (MERCEDES enters to the podium in black attire) Good morning. Did everyone get my e-mail? Can I see a show of hands? OK, I see many of you didn’t. I have a family event today and need to cut class short by half an hour. So, I’m going to tweak the syllabus and save the Larsen B Shelf collapse for Friday’s class and instead take the time we have today to discuss the Antarctic Treaty of 1959. For those of you who already did the reading, we’ll have a short period for some questions at the end, but whatever I can’t get to today, please take note of your questions and we’ll get to them when we re-visit this later.

ROBERT: (Enters from the front door of the house with family photo albums) Hola. ¿Te molestaría si te acompaño? ANDRÉS: If you want. My house is your house – literally. ROBERT: You speak English! ANDRÉS: Don’t sound so surprised. Old habits die hard in this family. ROBERT: So that went well. It was a nice tribute to your grandmother, no? ANDRÉS: Yeah, I guess.

(Map of Southern Cone and Antarctica appears on screen. The Antarctic portion has the delineation of geographical claims and a list of the twelve countries who were the original signatories to the treaty: Argentina, Australia, Belgium, Chile, France, Japan, New Zealand, Norway, South Africa, the U.S.S.R. (now Russia), the United Kingdom and the United States)



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MERCEDES: There were originally 12 nations that established the Antarctic Treaty of 1959. Rather than spend the time analyzing each country’s claim, I’ll refer you to the reading for a deeper analysis. Suffice it to say, the treaty brought all twelve of these countries’ claims to rest or, rather, suspension. However, territorial claims were not the main reason for the treaty. Can anyone tell me another impetus for this treaty? Anyone? Reflect on the year this treaty was adopted: 1959. How on earth were Russia and the United States persuaded to enter into such a treaty at the height of the Cold War? Yes, Michael. MICHAEL: (ANDRÉS turns to MERCEDES or MICHAEL answers from audience) Nukes? MERCEDES: I’m sorry, what did you say? MICHAEL: Nuclear weapons. MERCEDES: That’s right. When you read the first Article of the treaty, you get a good idea of the primary impulse behind it.

“Antarctica shall be used for peaceful purposes only. There shall be prohibited, inter alia, any measures of a military nature, such as the establishment of military bases and fortifications, the carrying out of military maneuvers, as well as the testing of any type of weapons.”

Article V then goes on to specify a testing ban on “nuclear weapons” in particular. However, while the military and nuclear testing ban was indeed paramount at the time, of deeper relevance to us as climate scientists are Articles II and III. Article II states that all signatories agree to occupy the continent solely for the purpose of scientific research and Article III describes how the cooperation among nations and the sharing of information should and will take place. As you all know, much of that research has contributed immeasurably to our understanding of the climate. Ice core samples, for example, have allowed us to take the climate’s temperature going back millions of years, before human beings even existed. The models we’ve been able to construct from that data have been key in our ability to identify and understand the effects of Climate Change.

ROBERT: What are you reading? (ANDRÉS shows him the magazine) Oh, I remember that one. That’s a great issue. The migration of man.



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ANDRÉS: Yeah. It’s strange to think that as recently as eight to ten thousand years ago, there were no people in this part of the world. This was the last place where humans migrated. Crazy.

ROBERT: Last stop, Patagonia. End of the world! Everybody off. (Pause) So listen, I wanted to apologize –

ANDRÉS: It’s okay.

ROBERT: No, really, I was way out of line last night. I’m not usually like that, but I had a long flight and your mother and I got into a –

ANDRÉS: Really, it’s okay. She brings out the worst in people. It’s a gift.

MERCEDES: The next item of the treaty most relevant to us as scientists is Article IV, which deals with the territorial disputes. Article IV stipulates that while all individual territorial claims continue to exist on paper, they are suspended as long as the treaty remains in effect. I cannot stress enough the importance of this aspect of the treaty. The more the perimeter of the Antarctic continent becomes exposed through events such as the Larsen B Shelf collapse, which we’ll get to in our next class, there will be enormous pressure from various global financial interests to exploit the immense natural resources of Antarctica.

ROBERT: So are you interested in anthropology?

ANDRÉS: Yeah, ethnology more specifically. The native peoples from this region. The Yaghan and Alacaluf in particular. My dad’s grandmother was half Yaghan, so I’ve got some connection. I want to explore that. (Pause) So, you were in the audience for my mom’s Antarctic Treaty lecture this morning?

ROBERT: Yup.

ANDRÉS: She spends all that time on the signatories to the Antarctic Treaty and still doesn’t mention the native peoples, though, does she?

ROBERT: No, but she was pressed for time –



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ANDRÉS: Typical. She has no problem talking about the colonial claims, but ignores how the Yaghan and Alacaluf were virtually wiped out in Tierra del Fuego.

ROBERT: Well, in her defense, that’s a whole other lecture. Another discipline. She was focusing on the signatories to the Antarctic Treaty. You can’t expect her to cover the anthropological or ethnological history of the continent.

ANDRÉS: No, of course not. God forbid we include the aboriginal people. What possible claim could they have, right? Let’s just “suspend” those ridiculous colonial claims so that in the coming centuries, when the ice is gone, we can start fighting all over again over who owns what in Antarctica. I mean, seriously, why maintain those claims at all, even if it’s just on paper? Do those original signatories really imagine after all that time, they’ll just be able to waltz back in and reclaim what they think is theirs? (Pause) I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to imply that you –

ROBERT: – It’s okay –

ANDRÉS: – Seriously, I –

ROBERT: It’s okay, really.

MERCEDES: Maintaining the integrity of this treaty is paramount, not only for our continued ability to help take the world’s temperature, but to emphasize the importance of a collective response to the data regarding Climate Change. It goes without saying, but I’ll say it anyway: The notion or idea of individual nations acting alone with regards to Climate Change is nonsense. Everything we’ve learned, every bit of data, points to the imperative that we must act in concert with one human voice and clear, scientific, sustainable objectives to reduce, or at the very least stay, the effects of the human carbon footprint and other greenhouse gas emissions. No argument, no discussion, no debate. It’s a done deal. And, like the Antarctic Treaty itself, now with 196 nations as signatories, that part of the debate must remain inviolate.

ROBERT: So university?

ANDRÉS: Yeah, I start in March. In Buenos Aires.



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ROBERT: Wow, Buenos Aires. You excited to be moving to the “big city”? Living away from home?

ANDRÉS: Not so far away. I’ll be living with my dad.

ROBERT: Your dad lives in Buenos Aires?

ANDRÉS: He does now. Didn’t my mom tell you? They’re separated.

ROBERT: I must not have registered that. I’m sure she –

ANDRÉS: Just like she told me who you were?

ROBERT: Well . . .

ANDRÉS: Whatever.

MERCEDES: Okay, we’ve got about 15 minutes for some questions. Yes, Michael. MICHAEL: (ANDRÉS turns to MERCEDES or MICHAEL from audience) I understand your point about the utter meaninglessness of individual nations acting alone with respect to climate change, but practically speaking, when considering individual economies, trade negotiations, etc. all of these things have to be taken into consideration, don’t they? MERCEDES: Are you talking specifically about the Antarctic Treaty? MICHAEL: Well, no, I guess I mean whatever other treaties we adopt to confront climate change, like the Kyoto Treaty, or the protocols and agreements coming out of various climate conferences, etc. MERCEDES: First, are there any questions about the Antarctic Treaty itself? No? Okay, then. Your question is regarding individual national economic interests? MICHAEL: Well, for starters, among other considerations. MERCEDES: The problem with economic considerations is that they almost never factor in environmental impacts. There’s a term in classical economics “externalities” to describe such ancillary or collateral effects. A coal plant in West Virginia may belch its waste into the air in Maryland, but outside of stricter regulations and



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lawsuits, can the people of Maryland persuade the coal plant to limit its waste? No, for the coal plant that’s an “externality”. Here in the southern tip of South America, because of the depletion of the ozone over Antarctica, caused by all the world’s collective emissions there’s a rate of skin cancer in both humans and animals way above the norm. Sheep are actually going blind. So who pays for that? The companies all over the world spewing toxins into the atmosphere? No, that’s an “externality”. Well, these “effects” are costs and simply sloughing them off as “externalities” is beyond ridiculous. Completely unacceptable – and MICHAEL: Yes, but – MERCEDES: – excuse me – and that’s just the tip of the iceberg. I could point to acidity levels in the oceans, which are absorbing way more carbon than they have in millions of years. The bleaching of coral reefs, extinction of aquatic flora and fauna, the rise in sea levels, disappearing island nations like the Maldives, droughts, floods, other extreme weather events, the list goes on and on and on. Again, when you game out the effects of this data we’re compiling, regardless of the lack of dates certain for when various climate thresholds will be breached, all other considerations – economic, cultural, religious, nationalistic – become secondary or meaningless.

ANDRÉS: (Referring to the albums) Need some help with those?

ROBERT: Only for the more recent stuff.

ANDRÉS: Oh wow, you brought out the old albums. I haven’t seen these in a long time.

ROBERT: Maybe I can fill in some blanks for you.

ANDRÉS: Who’s that?

ROBERT: That’s your great-great-great-great grandfather Patrick Sullivan.

ANDRÉS: Hmmm. (Pause) So explain to me how my grandparents, your parents, are fourth cousins, and why that shouldn’t creep me out.

ROBERT: Oh god, I knew this was coming.

MERCEDES: Anyone else? Yes, Michael.



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MICHAEL: Regarding the lack of dates certain, – MERCEDES: – and here we go . . . MICHAEL: I’m sorry? MERCEDES: No, I’m sorry. It’s just that I get frustrated with the whole “timeline” emphasis. MICHAEL: But isn’t that a key part of the data we’re compiling? How do we express the need for immediate action without timelines? Doesn’t that influence the kinds of negotiations – MERCEDES: Of course. Of course. It’s just that when I hear people focusing on timelines for certain dates, I always picture a bunch of oil executives with spreadsheets trying to game out just how much more petroleum they can extract. Honestly, the timelines can confuse the conversation, because depending on the models we use and the individual thresholds we’re talking about, there are possibly decades or, referencing the most conservative models, centuries of range. That may sound “uncertain” to have such a range, but given the millions of years of data we’re compiling and analyzing, it’s frankly amazing that we’re able to construct models with such specificity. In my opinion, the key difficulty in expressing the need for immediate action has nothing to do with the timelines themselves. It’s our own relatively short individual human life spans and our very limited ability to project ourselves into the future. I’ll use my own family as an example.

ROBERT: Okay. First, genetically speaking, once you get to third and fourth cousins, percentage-wise, there’s virtually no more chance for genetic defects than in the population as a whole. So just let that go. Okay?

MERCEDES: They came here to Tierra del Fuego in the 1850’s from Ireland on their way to California, believe it or not. I won’t bore you with the details.

ROBERT: Now, Patrick Sullivan’s wife, your great-great-great-great – let’s just say 4-greats grandmother Ellen Coleman Sullivan, was the sister of Michael Coleman your 5-greats uncle who was married to Catherine Sweeny Coleman. You with me? (Using the screen, it might be good to use some visuals to support and possibly have some fun with the “family tree”) So, the two couples set sail for California in 1856 on the heels of the Irish potato famine. Ellen got sick before docking for provisions here in Ushuaia and so



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the Sullivans decided to stay here while the Colemans completed the journey to California.

ANDRÉS: But, you and my mom are Colemans? Doesn’t that make Michael Coleman my 4-greats grandfather?

ROBERT: On my father’s, your grandfather’s side, yes. On your grandmother’s side, Michael Coleman is your 5-greats uncle. He’s both.

ANDRÉS: Eeeewwww.

ROBERT: (Laughing) Honestly, it’s not . . . Think about it. The average person has 64 great-great-great-great grandparents. You also have 64. Among them are a brother and a sister not married to each other, so – seriously – nothing to freak out about. Get over it.

MERCEDES: Long story short, my great-great-great grandparents decided to stay here in Ushuaia. The foundation of the house I live in was built by them back in the day. We still own a chunk of the surrounding land they lived on. I have photos and letters that allow me to establish a connection to them. It grounds me and binds me to our history. So that’s my connection to the past.

ANDRÉS: How did the two families get back together, anyway?

ROBERT: Oh please, you must have heard that story a million times by now.

ANDRÉS: Yeah, well, I’d like to hear your version. Given how my mom fails to share information –

ROBERT: Oh, come on. She’s not that bad.

ANDRÉS: No, really. I’d like to hear it from you. Please.

ROBERT: Okay. My mother, your grandmother Casandra always wanted to study in the U.S. and meet the Coleman clan. Even though both families maintained correspondence, in all those generations, no one from either family had ever visited each other.

ANDRÉS: I can believe that. We’re at the ass-end of the world. We’re as far away from everything as anyone can be.



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ROBERT: I’ve never heard it put quite that way, but I guess that’s true. Anyway, your grandmother studied at UC Berkeley for a year that turned into three. She wound up graduating there. It was the early to mid-70’s and . . . well, you know the rest. She met the Coleman clan, laid eyes on your grandfather –

ANDRÉS: What’s he like?

ROBERT: He’s . . . well you should find that out for yourself. You know you’re welcome to come visit any time you want. Okay?

ANDRÉS: Okay. Thanks. I was hoping he’d be here for the funeral. Finally get to meet him.

ROBERT: Well . . . after divorcing your grandmother, he got re-married and has a second family now. His youngest son is just a little older than you. I think my dad has kind of turned the page on this chapter of his life. I’m sorry, that must be hard to hear.

ANDRÉS: Why did you leave?

ROBERT: Your mom and I were born in the U.S. In Berkeley. We lived there until I was 10 when my grandfather, your grandmother’s father Philip Sullivan became ill. That’s him there. Your grandmother was the last of the Sullivans and wanted to return home here to take care of her father and manage the estancia. Mechi, your mom was just four years old. She hadn’t even started school yet, but for me it was pretty traumatic. I had already started the fifth grade. All my friends, family, the Coleman cousins, my sports teams – my whole life, my identity, was there in California. But my dad was on board with the move. He knew what it could mean for us financially, so even though it meant uprooting our lives and moving to another country – how did you say it? As far away from –

ANDRÉS: (overlapping) As far away from everything as anyone can be.

ROBERT: – it would ultimately be worth it – my dad thought. It turns out your grandmother had other ideas, though. Eight years later, my grandfather Philip finally died and when your grandmother dug in her heels about not leasing the property to the oil companies, my dad just lost it. “What have we



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been doing here?” “I never promised anything!” Blah, blah, blah. They broke. I was 18 by that point and my dad was returning to the U.S. I had always resented having moved here in the first place, so I didn’t even hesitate. I was leaving home anyway to go to university. I just . . . moved farther away. You know? I never consciously said “I’m never coming back” and I think never having said that, in a weird way, made it easier to just stay away. Does that make sense?

ANDRÉS: I guess. I notice you keep saying “my dad” but it’s always “your grandmother”.

ROBERT: What, are you my analyst? Well, there’s probably some meaning in that. It’s the Irish in us. God how we can nurse a grudge. If grudges were coal, we could make diamonds from them. The family jewels. But then I look at you and . . . (ROBERT is overcome)

ANDRÉS: . . . it’s Okay. It’s Okay.

ROBERT: I’m sorry . . . the day is catching up to me. Ha. You comforting me. Didn’t see that coming.

MERCEDES: The present, obviously, speaks for itself. I’m here, intimately connected with my loved ones, my work, studies – this somewhat tedious lecture – and the events of the day.

ROBERT: Okay. Your turn. Show me your family now (he hands ANDRÉS a newer photo album).

ANDRÉS: Here’s my dad, Javier. You can see he has more Yaghan than I

do.

ROBERT: I see that. Handsome guy. What does he do?

ANDRÉS: He’s in tech. Tierra del Fuego is being developed as the “Silicon Valley” of Argentina, believe it or not.

ROBERT: Really?

ANDRÉS: Yup. When my parents split, though, a position opened up in the Buenos Aires branch, so he jumped at it. He knew I’d be going to UBA, so it



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made sense. I was hoping he’d come back for the funeral. It’s all pretty fresh, though.

ROBERT: It takes time.

MERCEDES: But what about the future? At times, I imagine my son, who’s just a few years younger than you, getting married some day and having children.

ROBERT: So you were close to your – my mother. MERCEDES: I can even imagine holding my first grandchild; what that might be like.

ANDRÉS: She basically raised me until I was five or so. MERCEDES: Even though I have no idea who my daughter-in-law will be, still, it’s something I can imagine.

ANDRÉS: I always called her grandma, abuela, abu, but emotionally, she was mama, those first years anyway. She always looked so much younger than she was. Look at that picture of my mom and Abu together. People mistook her for my mom’s sister all the time.

MERCEDES: But my great-grandchildren? I can’t even conceive it. And I was a young mother, so the idea of having great-grandchildren is entirely possible. It’s just that I quite literally can’t imagine children of children-yet-to-be-born. That’s not just me, this is human . . . this is us; who we are. That limitation scares me, honestly, because the climate data is demanding an immediate sustainable change in our behavior for events well beyond our present practice of imagining ourselves. And that deficiency, or disconnection, I think, can cause a kind of subconscious apathy; in a way. I think, for many, when confronted with Climate Change, they hit that particular “imagination” wall and just say “oh well, not my problem.” To go back to Michael’s first question, I’m not saying that there are no economic or other concerns to be evaluated, or that timelines are completely irrelevant, but all of those considerations need to take their place in line behind the fundamental, immediate imperative: To cease burning carbon and seriously reduce other greenhouse gas emissions.

ANDRÉS: When she got sick – Abu . . . she was just 62 and still looked so much younger . . . It was strange.



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ROBERT: How so?

ANDRÉS: The shock.

MERCEDES: It’s like . . .

ANDRÉS: Cancer. MERCEDES: . . . it’s like a cancer patient being told that if they don’t start treatment, they’ve got “x” amount of time to live. Let’s say this particular cancer is somewhat unpredictable and was caught in an early stage.

ANDRÉS: Stage four. MERCEDES: The prognosis is, say anywhere from 6 months to 5 years, left untreated. The patient feels otherwise healthy and has all these immediate plans – vacations, business ventures, etc. Does it really make sense for that patient to ask the question “well, how long can I delay treatment before it’s too late?”

ANDRÉS: I knew she probably wasn’t going to make it. But she responded well to the treatments at first. Good days, bad days, and then there were whole weeks when everything was fine. Normal. She seemed good, you know? I’d forget there was anything wrong. She’s winning, she’s beating it, you know? I thought.

MERCEDES: Now, some people are willing to take those risks, right? And who am I to get in their way. If they want to gamble with their own lives, fine, go for it. (She remembers her mother; pause) But here’s the difference: If you accept the metaphor of the climate having a kind of “cancer” are we really comfortable allowing individual financial and national interests to “delay treatment” and gamble with everyone’s existence? With life itself? I don’t think so. No, those interests need to bend to the data.

ANDRÉS: Then my folks started to fall apart and Abu turned – suddenly – for the worse. I wanted to shake them. My parents. “Really? Now?” Then my dad’s job moved him away and she – Abu – your mother fell into a coma. And we were suddenly – all of us – alone. Like whatever held us together just disintegrated. We all . . . it was like we all went into our own individual comas, you know?



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MERCEDES: It’s another reason why this treaty is so important. It shows that we can act in concert. It’s within our experience as human beings to do what’s necessary; together, globally. And it was done at a time when no such treaty should have been possible, the height of the Cold War. The long-term threats we face from climate change are far more serious than anything we faced then, so, clearly, whatever sense of urgency we had in 1959 should be the least we can muster for climate change. We can do this.

ROBERT: But you still live here at home with your mom, no?

ANDRÉS: Physically. I love her – she’s my mother – but she’s . . .

ROBERT: What?

ANDRÉS: I mean, who teaches a class the morning of her mother’s funeral? Seriously.

ROBERT: Try not to read too much into that. There’s no right way to grieve.

ANDRÉS: Whatever. I sometimes wish she’d take an ice core sample of her own heart.

MERCEDES: Look, in the back and forth of negotiations among nations, yes, there will be some compromises, half-measures, denial, lies, misinformation, etc., As if I need to tell you, given how your press covers this issue, how many in the business community actively subvert the truth and how many in government deny and dawdle. However, the data is the data. At the very least, we need to stop throwing gasoline on the fire. Expelling more and more carbon and other greenhouse gases into the atmosphere will only hasten the effects of climate change. Full stop. That is not a controversial statement, nor has it been for the last 30 or so years. There’s no equivocating or mitigating that particular fact. That has to remain front and center in whatever negotiations we undertake and it’s our responsibility as scientists to continue shouting from the rooftops until the data is heard, understood and responded to and applied sensibly. It’s that simple. Not always easy, but it is that simple. Are there any other questions specific to the Treaty itself? No? The Treaty is important, guys, so please do the reading. I hate that these lectures always end on such an ominous note, but what can we do, right? Nothing else? (checks her watch) Okay, then let’s end here. Please have the reading done on the Larsen B Shelf collapse for next class.



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(MERCEDES starts to gather her things and MICHAEL/ANDRÉS approaches the lectern) MICHAEL: Professor? MERCEDES: Hi Michael. Listen, I’m kind of pressed for time right now, so – MICHAEL: I just wanted to extend my condolences. I was so sorry to hear about your mother. I lost mine recently, so I’ll be thinking of you today. MERCEDES: Thank you, Michael. That’s very kind of you. (ANDRÉS goes back to sit on the porch, or MICHAEL exits stage R and as he does so, the lectern and MERCEDES disappear stage R and the Sullivan porch moves now center stage. MERCEDES then enters from the front door with a document sized envelope/folder.) MERCEDES: Hi there. Can I join you? ANDRÉS: I don’t know, “can” you? MERCEDES: May I? ANDRÉS: It’s fine. I’m going to see if the caterers need any help cleaning up. MERCEDES: They’ve got everything under control. You don’t have to leave. ANDRÉS: No, you two have a lot to talk about. I don’t need to be here for that. I’m tired. I think I’ll go to bed. Goodnight Robert. It was nice talking to you. ROBERT: You sure? ANDRÉS: Yeah, I’m beat. ROBERT: I’ll see you tomorrow, then. MERCEDES: Okay. (ANDRÉS starts to leave) ¿Me das un beso? (ANDRÉS returns and kisses his mother’s cheek) Sleep well.



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ANDRÉS: Goodnight. (ANDRÉS exits into the house) MERCEDES: He’s still mad at me for springing your identity on him the way I did. ROBERT: It was pretty shitty, you have to admit. MERCEDES: Yeah, well, that remains to be seen. So, I hear you were in the auditorium for my lecture this morning. ROBERT: Yeah, I called over to the house and Andrés told me you were there. MERCEDES: I didn’t see you. ROBERT: I was in the lighting booth. I didn’t want to distract you. Not many people could give a lecture the morning of their mother’s funeral. MERCEDES: Are you saying that I’m not sufficiently grief stricken? ROBERT: No, no. I don’t judge you. It’s just . . . well let’s just say, considering the day, it wasn’t the cheeriest of discussions. It was pretty heavy. MERCEDES: Let me guess, you feel just as impotent as ever, sure you’ve made the right decision for your family. ROBERT: I wouldn’t go that far. You’re quite a convincing speaker. MERCEDES: Really. Not exactly the reaction of someone who’s “come to Jesus” on the issue, but I’ll take it. What’ve you got there? ROBERT: Photo albums. Want to have a look? MERCEDES: No, I’m not feeling very nostalgic, actually. ROBERT: Why didn’t you tell me you and your husband are divorced? MERCEDES: Javier. His name is Javier. Jesus, what is it with you and names? We’re separated. I don’t know. I think it came up too soon in the conversation. I wasn’t ready to share that with you. ROBERT: How long ago?



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MERCEDES: Six months. ROBERT: Recently. MERCEDES: Yup. ROBERT: So what happened? MERCEDES: Let’s just say he had a lot in common with you and dad. ROBERT: Pretty awful timing with mama’s illness. MERCEDES: That it was. It was her last month of lucidity, so she was hyper aware that my husband had left me before she went into a coma. She blamed herself. A lovely little parting gift from Javier – ROBERT: (cutting her off) Why would she blame herself? MERCEDES: Oh, gee, I don’t know. Maybe because she’d already lost her husband and son to the same argument. ROBERT: What argument? That was between us. Within our family. What does Javier have to do with that? MERCEDES: I know you’ve never met him, but Javier is family. You may as well ask what dad had to do with mama, or what Sheila has to do with you. ROBERT: (Notices the envelope) What have you got there? MERCEDES: Actually, what does Sheila have to say about all of this? I’d like to know. ROBERT: It doesn’t matter. MERCEDES: Why? ROBERT: Just leave her out of this. MERCEDES: And dad? He knows mama died, right?



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ROBERT: Of course he knows. MERCEDES: Why “of course”? How would I know that? I haven’t seen or heard from him in years. Not since he got re-married. And my half-brothers and sister? How do they feel about all of this? What’s their position? ROBERT: This doesn’t concern any of them. This is between us. What’s in the envelope? MERCEDES: (Pause) I haven’t been completely . . . I started to tell you at dinner last night, but . . . ROBERT: What? MERCEDES: The way you were acting, I didn’t want anything to spoil mama’s funeral. (Pause) ROBERT: Okay? MERCEDES: Well, here, why don’t you read for yourself. I flagged the relevant part. ROBERT: What’s this? MERCEDES: The estate. ROBERT: (after reading through a bit) I don’t understand. This only talks about the house and one hectare. Where’s the rest of the property? MERCEDES: Before she died, she created a foundation. (She hands ROBERT a brochure) ROBERT: A foundation? (He looks at the brochure) No, she didn’t. MERCEDES: But she did. It’s done. ROBERT: When did this happen?



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MERCEDES: Over a period of time, but the final agreement was executed around six months ago. The date’s right there. ROBERT: In the throes of her illness? You’ll never get away with this. MERCEDES: She was perfectly lucid when she drafted this. Anticipating your reaction, we had three different psychiatrists evaluate her mental state before signing. ROBERT: My lawyers will eat you alive. MERCEDES: Oh, that will play well. Estranged American son comes back after 25 years to contest his Argentine mother’s estate? Very sympathetic. Plus, as you said, we’re not nation states, but the benefactor is. You think your little army of oil company lawyers is going to sway an Argentine court against its own government? Not likely. ROBERT: How could you do this? MERCEDES: Calm down. It’s done. ROBERT: You don’t tell me what’s done. MERCEDES: No, but as you said last night, mama had final say over what happened to her property while she was still alive. You said that. ROBERT: You coerced her. MERCEDES: I don’t benefit from this. Read on. You and I are left the house and one hectare of land around it. Plus what’s left in the trust. Herederos forzosos. Equal shares. It’s done. ROBERT: You don’t benefit, give me a break. The Cassandra Sullivan Coleman International Center for Antarctic Climate Studies. I don’t suppose you’ll have a position within this new organization? MERCEDES: Honorary board member. Nothing more. No financial stake whatsoever. It’s a multi-national non-profit. It will operate both as a research lab and way-station for climate scientists going to and coming back from the Antarctic ice sheet. It has endowments from five different countries and counting – including the United States. Your little army of lawyers gets weaker by the sentence.



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ROBERT: (ROBERT tosses the estate papers on the ground and grabs her face in his hands) What have you done? MERCEDES: (completely impassively) I didn’t do anything. It’s what mama did. What she wanted. What are you doing? ROBERT: (releases her) So what was that little scene in the restaurant about last night? Just to set me up for this? To watch me squirm? MERCEDES: I told you, I needed to get an idea of your intentions. I was trying to make the case for mama’s bequest and then you stormed off before I could even get to it. You were a little tired and cranky, if you remember. Again, your words, not mine. Seems you’ve still got a load in your diaper. ROBERT: You’re damn right I’m mad. You encouraged her. MERCEDES: I was sympathetic to her and offered her an option she could both live with and die with. ROBERT: Two clauses ending with prepositions in one sentence. Congratulations. MERCEDES: You’re absolutely right. An option with which she could both live and die; content that she’d done the right thing. That losing her husband and son wasn’t for nothing. That beyond her own life, she could imagine the well-being of her children and grandchildren, her great-grandchildren and so on ad infinitum. After all those years of loss and illness, she could finally imagine a noble and useful purpose for her land. You bet your ass I encouraged her. ROBERT: This didn’t just appear six months ago. Something like this was years in the making. Before mama was ever ill, no doubt. MERCEDES: What’s your point? That you weren’t included in the negotiations? Are you serious? ROBERT: You threw away millions! MERCEDES: God, you are such a hypocrite. Last night, weren’t you just talking to me about hanging on by a thread? How yours and Sheila’s existence was so precarious? So much debt but no real savings? Jennifer’s future college costs?



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What’s left to you should at least make a big dent in your mortgage and you can set aside money to avoid any college loans for Jennifer. That should give you more than enough breathing room to establish some financial security, maybe even buy some better health insurance for that catastrophic illness you’re anticipating. My bet’s on a massive stroke. ROBERT: You know what? My lawyers will sue on my behalf, anyway. Won’t cost me a thing, but they – we – stand to gain millions. If nothing else, we can put an injunction on your little project. Delay and tarnish the whole thing. What might the government of Argentina, pay to avoid that? MERCEDES: Ah, the nuisance law suit. The great perversion of American justice. Just like being sure of mama’s mental health at the time of the drafting of her will, we evaluated your possible mental state, as well. What might a greedy little Robert do under these circumstances? And so, we developed a side, no-contest agreement. I call it a bribe. I call it the “Please, Robert, Don’t Be an Asshole and Shit All Over Mama’s Legacy” Agreement. We – the lawyers and I – calculated half the worth of the land donated to the project, minus a low estimate of whatever attorney fees you’d incur waging your little cry-baby battle, and we came up with this amount (she hands him a document). As an added incentive, the government has agreed to waive any transfer fees and inheritance tax and the money would be deposited directly into your American account. No muss, no fuss. (Pause) And the storm abates. The scene begins to calm. (Pause) You know, it kills me, a part of me dies watching you calm down with the mere mention of money; that the antidote for whatever poison that caused you to grab my face like that is the idea of compensation.

ROBERT: This amount completely ignores the oil revenue from the land and you know it. We’re still throwing away millions. I’ll have to think about it. MERCEDES: You do that. And while your contemplating the Please, Robert, Don’t Be an Asshole and Shit All Over Mama’s Legacy Agreement, know that there are two versions. In that first version, you take the money and run, as I just described, but you also agree to renounce your Argentine citizenship and never set foot in Argentina again. Furthermore, the Center will be known as the Cassandra Sullivan Center and your name – our name – will be forever erased from the center’s history. The second version (she pulls out the paper of the second version and gives it to ROBERT), on the other hand, involves you donating that hush money back to mama’s project in the form of the Robert Coleman Scholarship to Advance Layperson Understanding of Climate Science.



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ROBERT: Oh my god. MERCEDES: And before you laugh it off or dismiss it out of hand, I’d like you to reflect on a few things. You left, Robert. (the pain caused by his abandonment comes to the fore and MERCEDES loses her composure a bit here) You abandoned not only mama and me, but this land for which you’re now demanding compensation. And while you didn’t kill her, if mama’s mental state played any part in her inability to beat her cancer, your abandonment and lack of communication certainly didn’t do her any favors. You think about that as you make your decision. ROBERT: Yeah, you don’t blame me for anything, do you? MERCEDES: The ice is melting, Robert (as does MERCEDES). I’m so tired of trying to convince people like you that the ice is melting. The ice is melting way faster than it should because we’re changing the climate, we’re – you and I – we’re changing the climate. We’re drastically changing the climate and we have to stop doing what we’re doing. Not because we’re destroying the planet. The planet is four billion years old. Even if it takes millions of years, it will regain its equilibrium, whatever that will be. We’re destroying ourselves. The planet will slough us off like so much dandruff. (Beat) We’re the externalities! (Beat) We have to change our behavior, now, yesterday, for our own sake; our own existence. Think about Jennifer and her children and grandchildren, – ROBERT: – What do think I’m doing? Why do you think I’m here? MERCEDES: – think about our mother. What she wanted. Think about me, your sister. My life’s work. Think about Andrés. Think about everyone else’s sons and daughters. Think about life, as we know it. I mean, my god, what does it take? How many different ways does it need to be said? ROBERT: People like us cannot be expected to shoulder this level of cost. Jesus, get it through your head! What difference will it make if the rest of the world keeps suckling at the oil teet? Everyone around us continues to reap millions. This center, this little project is nothing. NOTHING. It will change nothing. Do the math, for Chrissakes. MERCEDES: All I do is math! What do you think my research is? It’s all numbers, equations, algorithms, measurements, statistics. You think because you’re an accountant – because your numbers have dollar signs in front of them that they’re worth more than mine? You want math? Here’s some math. If we’re to have any



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hope of staving off the worst effects of climate change, we have to leave 80% of identified oil reserves in the ground. That includes our ground. This ground we’re standing on right now. And we’re going to stand our ground, Robert. It’s done. This is it. The end. (She regains her composure and picks up the estate papers from the ground leaving ROBERT with the two versions of the agreement. Pause) ROBERT: It’s all so simple to you. Nothing else to consider. You’ve got it all figured out, don’t you? MERCEDES: Only the science. I don’t pretend to know the definitive solutions, only that we have to stop what we’re doing. What I’m talking about is not political. It’s not religious or philosophical. It’s elemental. Literally. There’s no “philosophy” of air, water, earth, fire. They just are. They’re elemental. We either make sure we can eat, drink and breathe or we die. Beyond that, I don’t pretend to know anything. ROBERT: Andrés is right. It’s like talking to a block of ice. MERCEDES: Well, he’s right. Frozen water. Elemental. You want to argue with a glacier, go right ahead. The conversation will be pretty one-sided, though, I can assure you. ROBERT: I’m talking about you! MERCEDES: I know you are, but this has nothing to do with me. With us. “We’re nothing, nobody in this conversation.” Right? Isn’t that what you said last night? ROBERT: So these are my choices? I can be an idiot and take – what – my half of this broken down house, donating the oil field to your little project or I can be a real jerk and exercise this other option. Where I receive less than half the value of that field mom just signed away from under us (not including the oil revenue), renouncing my citizenship and never returning to Argentina again in the process? Really, those are my choices. MERCEDES: What do you care? You always made it clear you hated it here. You couldn’t leave fast enough. So, yes, those are your choices. If that’s what it takes to leave the oil in the ground, then yes, those are your choices. Or, I guess, you can still roll the dice with your lawyers, your call. (Pause, then, partly, as if from the 12-year old MERCEDES) Or you can just be my brother. There’s that. ROBERT: (Explodes in a primal scream and rips up the agreements) 25 years!



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MERCEDES: (She grabs some dirt from the ground in her fist and screams) 4 billion years! (She throws the wad of dirt at him) (Pause) ROBERT: My god, how did it come to this? MERCEDES: Who knows? (Slight pause) I think I may have a PowerPoint presentation – ROBERT: (laughing through tears) Oh, god, please, no. Spare me. (The two of them are spent and sit next to each other on the porch steps. The pace of the rest of the scene should be with that in mind.) So mama died. MERCEDES: That happened. Yes. ROBERT: We buried our mother. MERCEDES: In the ground with the oil. ROBERT: Don’t be crude. MERCEDES: You did not just say that. (They laugh at the [intended] [unintended] joke) ROBERT: So now what do we do? MERCEDES: Our part. What we can. ROBERT: All that money. MERCEDES: I know. ROBERT: Gone. MERCEDES: I know. ROBERT: No well.



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MERCEDES: Oh well. ROBERT: I am not a rich man. You know that, right? MERCEDES: I know. ROBERT: I mean, my god, who just gives away 99% of their wealth? MERCEDES: Apparently, we do. Anyway, it’s not wealth. Not really. Actually, it’s the opposite of wealth. It’s future debt. Keep reminding yourself of that. ROBERT: Pfft. MERCEDES: (Pause) You know what? I’m exhausted. I’m truly exhausted and, if it’s okay, I really don’t feel like driving you back to your hotel. I’m sorry. You can call a cab or you’re welcome to spend the night in your old room. It’s all made up and ready for you. I’ll see you tomorrow for breakfast or at the reading of the will. Your choice. Dulce sueños. (MERCEDES kisses the top of his head, gets up from the porch and exits into the house) ROBERT: (Pulls out a business card and dials on his cell phone) Hola, ¿Taxi El Fin del Mundo? Bueno, quiero . . . quería . . . I wanted . . . nothing – nada. Perdón. (ROBERT hangs up, gets up from the porch stares at his old home with his back to the audience and then exits into the house.)

END OF PLAY

“No one likes to be criticized, of course, but if the things we successfully strive for do not make our future selves happy, or if the things we unsuccessfully avoid do, then it seems reasonable (if somewhat ungracious) for them to cast a disparaging glance backward and wonder what the hell we were thinking.” – Daniel Gilbert



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ABOUT THE AUTHOR Author: KJ Dwyer Country of residence: France Nationality: American / Irish Mother tongue: English and Spanish K J met his mate and moved to Buenos Aires in 2004, where he began to write while operating a B&B. After years hosting visitors from every continent, they moved to Paris in 2015. His Huffington Post article What’s Left? (2010) inspired a turn to playwriting. El Fin del Mundo, read by Moving Parts during the COP21 Climate Conference, was a finalist in Strange Sun Theater’s Greenhouse Project in January, 2016.

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