Tim Law - Issue 36

Tim Law is a writer from a little town in Southern Australia called Murray Bridge. A happily married father of three children, family is important to him. Currently working at the Murray Bridge Library as Manager he has dreamed since early high school of becoming a full-time author.

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Crossing the Harbour Bridge

“Would you cross a street if there was a twenty percent chance you could get hit by a car?”

The question caught me off-guard, distracting me from the whizzing traffic below us. I was on holiday in Sydney, with my wife and baby daughter. For reasons involving said infant I found myself high above the trucks and cars, linked by a short piece of bungie cord, not to my wife, but to an environmental scientist. His fluorescent orange shirt, hat and pants all screamed louder than his voice.

“I guess I would want the odds to be a little lower,” I admitted.

“What?” he continued, grinning like he knew he had me. “Would you cross if it was a ten percent chance?”

I did the math. If I was in a group of ten that would mean one of us got cleaned up.

“Five… Maybe…” I considered.

We ducked for a low beam as a truck rumbled underneath. Seeing the famous Harbour Bridge in this way was interesting, made more so by my lucky pairing with Glen.

“If I were you, I wouldn’t cross until the risk was zero,” Glen laughed.

“Yeah, but you can’t always wait that long,” I argued, certain that five percent was a safe enough risk.

“Regardless, of if you would cross the road or not, imagine we are now talking about Global Warming.”

“What about it?!” I yelled as two more trucks passed below us.

“Even if there was only a five percent chance that Global Warming is real, you would want to do something about it, right?” Glen asked, earnestly.

“Of course I would…” I replied, the correct answer from the smile I saw on Glen’s face. “Who wouldn’t?”

At my question Glen’s face changed, filled with worry.

“Yeah… Well… That’s where I come in…” he said.

“Why do you think that you can do what other climate scientists have failed to do?” I asked, equal parts sceptical and curious.

“Because…” said Glen, the sparkle returned to his eyes. “I have a secret weapon… Actually… I guess I am the weapon…”

“You are a weapon?” I asked, confused, my voice almost stolen by the traffic crossing the bridge from one side of Sydney to the other. “I thought that you were a scientist.”

“Yes…” Glen announced proudly. “I am a climate scientist journalist.”

I admit, I was stunned. Glen had to tug on our lead to get me to move along. A climate scientist journalist. Having that on a business card would be something different. This was the way the world was going now. Glen spent the rest of our trip climbing up and through that bridge to a glorious lookout, explaining to me his incredible occupation. He writes scientific articles for the most popular Sydney newspaper in words that people like me who have no scientific idea, simplifying the complex so that we can understand.

I met Glen about ten years ago. I hope he’s still writing. We all need things simplified now.