The so-called rebellion of the left-behind would only take place if football were suddenly banned. But why would anyone do something so stupid? It would be like banning smartphones. Or alcohol. Or the royal family. Even the various terrorist groups that through a series of murderous attacks had for years slowly prepared the country for a wave of fear didn’t dare touch the stadiums. A terrorist attack on one of the playing fields of the gods would have meant war.

Hannah’s father wore a green and red scarf, he was part of a large, strong, not humiliated troop of men if a game was won, and if their club lost, then the men could finally cry about their lives. Football fans were one of the last groups where an individual could briefly muster a feeling of sympathy for someone else. The stadium, a site where men wrapped their arms around each other and cried together. What sort of indomitable power might they generate if they joined together in their directionless misery outside the stadium. But they didn’t. They killed each other. After the match. Or threw acid in each other’s faces, which was the hot shit this season.

When Hannah and her father arrived home after the game, two police officers were standing in front of the door. Whispers. Unfortunately we have the unfortunate duty to inform you that your spouse.

And so on. It whooshed into Hannah’s ears. Mother had strayed into someone’s line of fire, probably child gangs, and now lay in the hospital.

It doesn’t look good. Said the police, possibly, or maybe Hannah imagined it. Why do they live in this fucked-up neighborhood, they’re upstanding people after all? Why do they live in an area the police only dare enter in convoys? And so on. Probably only imagined sentences that didn’t add up to anything. Hannah’s memory started again only at the hospital. Where she stared blankly at the mass of people crowding the waiting room.

They were waiting for their

Vaccination.

A wave of Japanese encephalitis was threatening that year. Every day there were reports about the horrible threat. Inducing fear of the disease with its expected fatalities in the range of tens of thousands. The government had ordered vaccinations from China. China or Japan, whatever. The vaccination was mandatory. Hannah remembered getting hers. It had been administered directly to her head. Which had been quite horrible. It had been three days before. Hannah had cried, but her mother had been there, as she always was when she cried. Or laughed, or when she was sick or hungry or nervous—her mother had always been there.

And now

Her

Mother