The word Pangaea entered the European language 100 years ago, meaning ‘whole land.’ This place was still a shipyard, boats and submarines levitated in the halls upon their construction—later to be released at the docks, entering the water like strange sea creatures.
The raising of the houses came much later and started out with only half a metre. At some point, the majority of this site stood ripped from the ground. Tons and tons of bricks being carried, held in the air while awaiting new foundations. This analogy of house and ship is a beautiful one—they didn’t know then what it meant and how the notions of living and working would become closely intertwined with the tide.
During the raise, the area was sloppily called ‘the bath houses’—I remember my grandmother using that term, finding it ironic since that was exactly what they prevented it from becoming. This has always been a site for work and production, but more specifically for construction. Building of different kinds, everything from enormous ships with engine rooms and sleeping cabins to business models, cloud systems—virtual realities, ecology and new ways of life.
The plantation halls were once a place for education—in the visual arts, theatre and music, compositions of a different kind. All we’re building now are means of communication and models of living—moving back to basics. In the announcement yesterday, the panel presented some of the proposals that had been discussed before settling on the new name of our era. They hadn't been able to create a traditionally composed term departing from the word blue, given that the colour mentioned is obscured from ancient Greek writings. Apparently, it remains unknown whether this is due to perceptual differences or if blue didn’t require naming as such, perhaps already embedded in their concepts of ‘sky’ and ‘sea.’
The ‘Egeirocene,’ with or without the ending of -cene, was a long-lived candidate, Egeiro, which means ‘raised up' or ‘resurrection,’ was thought to resonate in two meanings. However, its religious connotations made it weak in neutrality, causing it to fall out. Biologists, anthropologists, chemists and linguists agreed on the short, convenient—‘Chloe.’ An inflection from a Greek word, which describes a pale green, yellowish nuance. Referencing a traditional female name—it was argued to hold embodying qualities, as well symbolic ones—in mythology the goddess Chloe represented fertility and blossoming. Moving from the Anthropocene into the Era of Chloe, I feel this childish anticipation. The plantation is thriving, our interests are going well and we designed three new cycles this week—riding on a current, in time and at sea.
The present: After the most recent, significant flare—when everything had been a bit quiet for some time—that was basically a turning point for the plantation and to some extent, for ‘The Synthesis’ at large. We were mid-launch with a new material and had been getting together at the docks much more frequently since connection was a bit unreliable. Outside of what happens in ‘The Synth,’ the work during summer normally organises itself in line with temperature, as well as the levels.
Even though the tides were high that night, quite a big group of people had gathered in the common room to eat and chat. I went in mostly to look over a few oxygen alerts but ended up in discussions about the new fibre and how it could be implemented in our aid packages. I really enjoy these spontaneous evening sessions, the sounds coming from the kitchen, concrete floors still warm from the daylight and a distant smell of salt and fertiliser.
Mid conversation with one of our collab neighbours, Meia, I noticed a strange shift in the air pressure—it wasn’t the first time I had felt that and her daughter was also restless. It was followed by a vibrating tone, this buzzing frequency entering my mind and a sensation of weightlessness seemed to gradually fill the entire room. Conversations stopped—everyone looked at each other, reaching out with confusion. We turned our hearing up and agreed that whatever it was, it was coming from the ponds.
Observation had been down for a few days, so we decided to go there and have a look—gathering our boots and gloves by the floodgate. Upon entering the hall, the volume increased—at first glance, everything looked normal, but when regulating the lights, we could see the water surface was rippling. Small waves in violent motion. They were calling to us like sirens. Since then, everything has gradually shifted and ‘The Synthesis’ and Malmö Algae have changed a lot. The conversion has been going on for a long time; extending legal protocol, working with knowledge distribution, first-point perspective experiences, research in adaptive consciousness, the gradual joining of biosphere with techno-sphere, along with the announcement of The Chloe. However, I really feel that this event was the definitive moment for us. When we stood there at the ponds, we had all felt this intense empathy, but also something similar to submission. We were interconnected, realising that everything had only just begun.
I think what I enjoy the most is the flexibility of coming and going, but also the pace and variety. Having all this time to just be with them, reading or thinking side by side, focusing on their needs and keeping levels good. We finally managed to edit parts of the contract in their favour; although the algae still need advocates, it gives them an independent vote. Our resources currently lend the human species about 35% while keeping 65% with the sea. The numbers speak for themselves, we have re-arranged so many things, the governing of ecosystems has changed everything and it’s hard to imagine a time without regulation.
Europe as a coalition may be long gone, but the intimacy towards the other—unification— has never been more profound. Everyone is contributing in some way and almost all areas have a high attendance, despite the standard wage. When I was spending time in the CO2 department, we would sink a ton each week—and they still do—I'm just drawn to be here now and feel more useful in language than in chemistry. When we develop translation further, we will break so many boundaries, sense the world differently and reorganise priorities for the better. ‘The Synthesis’ is more now—we're generating new narratives, building knowledge in all directions. The Lingual dept offers this infinite search, transcending desire over and over, our work becomes this ever-expanding motion and we simply don't know what's coming next.
Imaginary: I couldn’t dream of having more time, I feel like making time for friends, my research and spontaneous meetings isn’t really an issue, not the way it was for my mother. I do wish that we hadn’t gotten to this point, it could have been different if we had started the conversion earlier. The heat is becoming more of a pressing issue, we’re good with the solar, but some of the algae easily burns and the ponds become acidic.
I would like to be able to spend more time on site in daylight, but it’s unbearable for almost half of the year. Overall I wish we had a few more tools to deal with the heat—yeah, and also some variation in food, that we didn’t need to measure and record every single product before making dinner. Still, a lot of these struggles reflect in our social life, people are sharing and are very open. I wouldn’t want to change the culture that the weather has brought about, I feel safe and seen despite all the uncertainty that life entails.
With the aid packages and connections in the Synth, that awareness is always present. I’d like to move into one of the small houses on the river. I've tried the model and I think it would suit me quite well. I’d set up a few tanks and watch birds in the morning—maybe a kayak for transport. Let’s see what the future holds.
