DAY 14, THE CHALLENGE DAY, book 4, building

CHALLENGES. At two minutes past seven, Jazz, head of Project Security, knocked on Alice’s bathroom door and informed her that the British prime ministers requested Alice’s immediate presence. ‘Can I towel myself off and get dressed first?’ ‘The prime minister doesn’t strike me as someone who’d be comfortable with nudity,’ Jazz returned dryly from behind the bathroom door. ‘Too British?’ ‘Possibly. So, yes, dress.’ Alice chuckled. ‘Since when do you make jokes, Jazz?’ ‘I work too much with Dennie. His strange sense of humour rubs off on me.’ ‘Can’t you work with someone else?’ ‘In summer, a good friend of mine will join my team. He’ll be my second.’ ‘Oh, I remember. Guy with dark curly hair?’ ‘Yes.’ ‘And since Anthony is now at the building site, Dennie keeps the spot warm for Mr Curly?’ ‘You could say that.’ Alice chuckled, opened the bathroom door, already in pants and shirt, and walked past Jazz to the walk-in cupboard, saying: ‘Do you think—? I mean, the PM wanting to see me— That’s a good thing, right?’ Jazz shrugged. ‘Maybe.’ Alice nodded and decided against a pair of red jeans. Instead, she chose grey cotton trousers, and, while slipping into the trousers, she remarked: ‘It’s a bit early, though.’ ‘It’s past seven.’ ‘No, I mean, the PM can’t have read all the documents we sent her. It’s too soon for that. Maybe— Hm. Black shirt or blue shirt?’ ‘Blue.’ ‘OK. Blue it is.’ // About an hour later, Alice found herself back in Downing Street, curious, more excited than she liked and— ‘Ah, Ms Adler,’ the prime minister said, standing near her desk, and apparently not inclined to offer a handshake. ‘I expected you earlier.’ ‘Rush hour,’ Alice returned with a half-frown, and the door closed behind her. ‘It’s Saturday!’ ‘Tourists?’ ‘Ms Adler, please, note that this is an unofficial meeting.’ ‘That’s fine by me. I’m glad we’re talking again.’ ‘Ms Adler, we are not talking. I merely asked you here to inform you that your town is history.’ Alice swallowed. ‘What?’ ‘We voted, last night. We voted NO! No to your town!’ ‘Why?’ Alice asked, her mouth dry. The PM wrinkled her nose. ‘We don’t need a reason to say no.’ Leaning against her desk, the PM repeated smugly: ‘We don’t need a reason to say no. Alice Adler, we have shown unprecedented patience with you. Now you have clarity. You can stop campaigning. You can stop being a nuisance. You can call back your marching minions. You can dismantle your project within the next seven days. In fact, we expect you to dismantle your project — within the next seven days. As for your businesses, the UK is a proud, strong and rich nation. We will defend our economic system, our economic dominance, our economic future, and our democracy against your mad ideas. The sooner you leave this country the better. You cannot stay. Your project cannot stay. Your businesses cannot stay!’ Some minutes later, when Alice reached the security car, she had no idea how she had managed to leave the office or the house, or whether she had remembered to say goodbye. Back in the car, Alice didn’t speak. She looked out of the window, but she didn’t see. She leaned back in her seat, but she couldn’t feel her body. The car set into motion, but she— She could feel the thick folder in her hands, the folder full of safety nets and draw-the-line suggestions. It was heavy. Alice shook herself. ‘Jazz, does Any know?’ ‘Not yet.’ ‘Can you connect me to him, please?’ ‘Twenty seconds.’ When Any appeared on the screen, on the back of the passenger seat, Alice said without prelude: ‘Any, the PM told me to pack it. There was a vote in parliament last night. And the MPs voted against us. Against the town. The PM said: No more campaigns. No town. No businesses. Just leave. Leave this country. Why?’ ‘Fuck!’ Any cursed. ‘FUCK! The lobbyists got through to them. Damn it! And they call that democracy. Cowardice, that’s what I call it. Bloody cowards the lot of them. Greedy little midgets. Stupidity, too. Short-sighted superiority complex. That’s the elite for you. Born to be stupid! Born to stand in the way. Determined to keep us from having a future! FUCK! Fuck the lot of them!’ Alice took a deep breath and smiled a little. ‘Thank you, Any! Thank you! I needed to hear that.’ ‘What did I say?’ ‘I needed to hear that someone wants us, and wants us to win. Any, I will not give up. We still have nearly two weeks. I’ll keep pushing!’ ‘I’m with you, Alice! All the way! All the way!’ ‘Thank you! The trouble is the PM said we have to dismantle the project now. She gives us seven days. Plus, she said to stop the campaigns.’ Any smiled grimly. ‘She can’t do anything about the campaigns, not on short notice. Get your lawyers right on the case. It’s the same for the town project. The least your lawyers can do, and easily, is postpone any actions until the thirty-first — and that’s the utmost you’ll need. Alice, I believe in the town. I believe that the British public is roused, and that more will stand up when the government’s vote is made public. Do you know when they will publish their statement?’ A sparkle appeared in Alice’s eyes. ‘No. And my meeting with the PM was unofficial as if they don’t want to make a big deal of it, and perhaps they bank on us being the messenger. But we won’t! We’ll ignore everything the PM told me until the MPs make their vote public.’ ‘I like the sound of it.’ ‘Me too! Thanks, Any. I’ll speak to you again, later.’ ‘Any time!’ Alice ended the call, leaned back and closed her eyes. Damn! Why the heck did the MPs vote against our town? Because they’re not interested in people or planet. How can they not? It’s not like they live on a different planet. It’s all connected. To them it’s like they live on a different planet. Their brains are wired to believe that they are superior, and that a superior person always takes because that’s what the grand lords have always done. It’s what they do. Their privilege is to exploit, to hoard, to boast, to destroy, to starve, to fuck. And they pass this privilege on from generation to generation. That’s impossible. Is it? What if you were told day in day out that there are only a few worthy people, and the rest of the world is filth. What then? Then we failed them. They are our fellow humans, too, and we let them believe that they must stay trapped in their sick, soulless world— ‘—Alice?’ ‘Um?’ Alice met Jazz’s eyes in the rearview mirror. ‘Will you be okay?’ Jazz asked and added: ‘I need to leave you when we arrive. My team needs to know about the vote, and we have to discuss security implications.’ Alice nodded. ‘I could do with a fight. I don’t get what happened. Maybe sweating would help, letting off some steam. Maybe I’d even scream. But—’ ‘I’ll call Tilly.’ ‘Oh, yes! Tilly is great. Thanks! I can sense my frustration pushing to the front row. I’m so— I don’t know. WHY?’ Some nine minutes later, Alice entered studio 3 with a grim half-smile which disappeared when she noticed that not only Tilly but three other people were waiting for her: Skye, Dennie and Jack. ‘Oh, oh,’ Tilly said. ‘This looks like fight first, ask questions later?’ ‘Yes, please!’ ‘I’ll get the sticks.’ Without meeting anyone’s eyes, Alice shrugged out of her jacket, accepted her stick — and attacked. But her mind wasn’t in the fight. While Alice was glad that she had a formidable opponent in Tilly, one with whom she didn’t have to worry about how much Tilly could take, Alice was too much of a mess to focus on the fight, and in between the attack and defence clashes, she told the others about her meeting with the PM, driving herself deeper into her frustration. ‘We should challenge them, challenge them to a fight!’ ‘I—’ ‘—I don’t get this! We are sitting on chests full of gold: ideas, models, conversations, visions, innovations, and plans for a town that has the one and only goal to find out what’s best for people and planet, a town that aims at creating an ecosystem that is alive, thrives, moves in cycles, nurtures — and it does all that in coexistence with humans — hopefully.’ ‘Maybe—’ ‘—What kind of brain fuckery is that? Who shuts down a project which has all that to offer? Who ignores ideas which can improve their political work, which can even improve their chances of that success and significance these people crave so much?’ ‘Alice, maybe—’ ‘—Whom are they kidding?’ ‘Alice, slow down. We—’ ‘—Their government is failing. The governments on this planet are failing — all of us. Just like the governments before them failed.’ ‘Alice, easy— Ouch! Alice!—’ ‘—No country on this planet is OK. And this country here gets the chance to host a project that could produce hard facts about—’ ‘—Alice—’ ‘—about what we humans actually need, which systems actually work, how we can get out of all the fucking, stinking bullshit we make ourselves wade through EVERY FUCKING DAY—’ ‘—HEY! STOP!’ Tilly jelled. ‘WHY? WHY THE FUCK?’ ‘STOP ALICE! ALICE!’ Tilly disarmed Alice, Alice stumbled and cursed, steadied herself and bent forward, hands on her knees, breathing fast. After a moment, Alice straightened, turned and looked into the worried faces around her. ‘Screw it! Can’t I lose it? Can’t I hurt? How much human am I allowed to be? Can’t I smash this bleeding stick in the hope that something will— that something is right somewhere on this screwed up planet, and we will find a way to get there? Or do I have to turn into some soulless thing? Just so I’m a righteous leader? A respectable human? Do I have to kick my screaming soul into silence to fight for the soul of the planet? How much am I allowed to be affected by this? How much human am I allowed to be? TELL ME!’ ‘Alice,’ several people began, and Tilly took some steps closer, saying: ‘Alice. We need you. And yes, we need you to be strong. For this fight. You won’t lose your soul. But right now, for this fight, we need you to get a grip, to find that defiance that electrified our teams only a few weeks ago, that gave us the vision, the strength, the courage to transform our project. I know no one as defiant as you. Find your defiance! I know it’s in there somewhere!’ Alice sagged her shoulders, a tear escaping her eyes, and she sat down on one of the benches in front of the studio’s windows. When she looked up again, the others had gathered around her, sitting on the floor. ‘OK. OK. Thank you, Tilly. For the fight, for stopping me and for your words. I needed that. Thank you.’ Alice shook her head. ‘We need to understand why the MPs decided against something that is to their benefit. I know, the story goes that they’re all in the pockets of lobbyists. But I keep thinking that there must be something, some door, maybe even an Achilles’ heel, something that would allow us to get through to them, something that trumps every monetary incentive they have been offered, an argument so strong that they’d want to side with us. And here’s another thought: Is the damage caused by humans, caused by our world’s systems too abstract? Are people so used to this dysfunctional world that it doesn’t occur to them to question it? And not just question it on the surface but at the roots. And if so, how can we a) make it visible, palpable, understandable that we need to rethink pretty much everything in our world. And b) can we do this in a way that doesn’t leave the listeners paralysed, frustrated or brings up their defences? In other words: How can we offer everyone, not just the MPs, a clear view of just how rotten our world is and do so in a way that inspires to act, to rethink, to say: OK, we messed up, let’s start over!? I know that one of the challenges today is just that: How to make a clear argument. We need to ask the same question for our communications with the government: Can we make our arguments clearer? Can we make them so clear that the MPs invite us back for talks?’ Dennie rubbed his chin. ‘Maybe it’s time for a sanity check. Not for us but for the campaigns.’ ‘What do you mean?’ Alice asked. ‘We have seven campaigns. Each of these campaigns has ten-thousands of events by now, covering thousands of issues.’ Jack nodded. ‘Where is the clarity? The focus?’ Alice frowned. ‘Are you saying we lost ourselves in too many issues?’ ‘Not just that,’ Skye said. ‘We turned our town project into an activists’ project for the whole planet. Maybe it’s time we put our town into the spotlight again.’ Dennie nodded. ‘We don’t know how many days we have left. They might find a way to shut us down before the deadline. But even if we have to keep going until midnight on the thirty-first, let’s focus.’ Alice nodded. ‘No more skirting around the issues but full frontal clarity on what we want and why!’ Jack frowned. ‘We should complete this campaign week.’ ‘That’s another five days,’ Tilly remarked. ‘It is,’ Jack said. ‘But that gives us five days to rethink and prepare our final week.’ ‘Final week?’ Dennie asked, frowning. ‘What’s your plan, Jack?’ ‘Complete this campaign week: Collaborations Day, Spring Specials, Ending The War Against Ourselves, Your Strength Is My Strength, and the Focus Day as our final campaign day. By that time, we’ll be ready to wrap all campaigns on the following day. That leaves seven days until the deadline, if necessary.’ Skye nodded. ‘Not bad. And we could still use your ideas for the final week, Alice. Day 7: Body and Sexuality. Day 6: Community. Day 5: Economics rethought. Day 4: Political Systems Rethought. Day 3: Rewilding. Day 2: Everything is Connected. And day 1: Who Wants a Future? These are strong headlines. And these final seven days were always meant to be the letting-down-our-hair days. We can make those topics, these conversations, this build-up part of our communications.’ Alice smiled a little. ‘That means, we won’t have ten-thousands of events. We will have one event at a time.’ Dennie smiled. ‘One location at a time, and online streaming so that everyone has access to our event.’ Alice nodded. ‘Let’s change the titles for days five and four, though. We haven’t actually rethought existing economic and political systems. We’ve created business models which allow our businesses’ networks to establish a new global economic system without reference to existing systems. As for politics, we haven’t talked much about political systems.’ ‘Then what do you have in mind for day four?’ Jack asked. Alice grimaced. ‘To expose why every single government on this planet fails its people and the planet.’ ‘Done!’ Skye returned. ‘The new headline is: Politics fail us.’ Alice smiled. // Some thirty-six minutes later, the heads of all campaigns  joined the Campaigns & Negotiations Team at the long conference table on the seventh floor. Alice was standing and said: ‘In the final seven days, we’ll have a laser sharp focus on a government that refuses a project which can benefit their people and the planet. No more feet and faces, no more boot camps, no more Trafalgar Square or Hyde Park extravaganzas. People can rewatch past events on the Hub, but we, we will direct everyone’s attention towards the government and towards the government’s failure to act in the interest of the people they are supposed to serve.’ Many around the conference table needed a moment to digest the news that the government had voted against the town, to say nothing about dealing with the decision to wrap thousands of successfully running campaigns early. But after some reassurances that everyone would get paid as agreed, that enough people would still be needed for the final week, and that unused ideas could still get a stage another time, the teams began to develop new ideas for what was now the FOCUS WEEK. ‘A fitting title, too,’ Quintessa, head of the Press Pause Campaign, remarked. ‘Our new plan means we complete our campaigns with a special focus on FOCUS. My team will use this to prep our audiences for the final seven days.’ Itzel, head of the True Power Campaign, nodded. ‘I’m glad we have day eight to wrap all campaigns. We could use it to showcase each campaign’s highlights.’ Jack smiled. ‘I’m on it. I’ll ask the documentary team to prepare recap clips for all campaigns, ready for day eight.’ ‘What about the offers from other countries?’ Emine asked. ‘Could we put pressure on the UK government by beginning negotiations with China or Russia?’ Alice shook her head. ‘It’s tempting. But I swore not to play games. Besides Lian and Natasha, our liaisons with China and Russia respectively, warned me that the offers are likely to be withdrawn as soon as the UK decided to block our project. But,’ Alice added, her eyes on Penelope, head of the Narratives Campaign. ‘Can I do that comedy stand-up thing? I mean, would it help?’ Penelope laughed. ‘Yes! And YES! It would be fantastic! Especially now. We could use some of the material from Tilly’s rumours event. There’s some hilarious stuff there. I’ll have a team of writers start straight away.’ ‘Oh, good. So I don’t have to write the jokes myself?’ ‘No, no. But you can. I mean, call me with any idea.’ ‘Like, I’m sorry to inform you that your government is afraid we might find out just how much of a failure they are, and that’s why they voted against us?’ Penelope grimaced. ‘Weeell … We’ll try for something a tad lighter.’ ‘Oh. OK.’ ‘I have a question,’ Heather said. ‘Should we publish a statement about the government’s vote?’ Alice shook her head. ‘No. The vote is their doing. It’s for them to be the messenger. We’ll act as if nothing’s happened, and if we’re asked why we kept quiet, I’ll say that I wanted nothing to do with their decision. However, Heather, I want us ready with a statement so we can react the moment they go public.’ Geraldine, head of the Your Powers Campaign, raised her hand. ‘When will we announce that week four events are mostly cancelled?’ Alice grimaced. ‘I’d love to postpone that announcement. But that doesn’t seem fair. Let’s make the announcement this afternoon. First for team members. Two hours later for everyone. Our reason for the change of plan is valid with and without the government’s vote: We want to focus on making the case for building our town at the Jellybridge Estate.’ // After this meeting, Alice went to the Front House Theatre where she was due to give a speech for a number of UK NGOs. At the main door, she saw a poster for the next instalment of The universe is worried, with Kahu and her friends. Not just the universe, Alice thought and walked on. By the time, she entered the theatre via the backstage door, she was typing a text to Isabel: Isabel, when you send out the message to all campaign teams, could you, please, add a personal THANK YOU from me? I haven’t seen or heard about a single campaign event that wasn’t intriguing, inspiring, amazing. I am very proud of what the teams achieve and achieved, and I am in awe of all the ideas and talents these campaigns were able to unearth and stage. // For some more hours, neither the campaign teams nor the visitors had any idea that the campaigns would come to an abrupt end in five days. Instead many were immersed in today’s challenges which one reporter summoned up like this: It’s simple. You have seven main campaigns: longevity, your powers, narratives, true power, connections, empowerment and press pause. Each campaign chips in with challenges which relate to their team’s focus. Other challenges are collaborations between several campaign teams, and a few are masterminded by all campaign teams. As so often there is a beautiful structure to some of these events. If you wanted to take a full dose of what the Challenge Day has to offer, you would pick events in this order: First, explore what kinds of challenges exist in our personal lives, in our society, on our planet (Eye openers with pinches of humour. My favourites: the challenge to cook a soup with more than thirty ingredients (no meats, no dairy produces), and the challenge to know what it is you are saying (Fair warning: That’s mind acrobatics and no mistake.)). Next: physical challenges to discover and mould your strength, and to channel anger (I love that the town project acknowledges that some humans need physical fights, and I love the Challenge Gardens. Twenty of them popped up across London for the day, and the town will feature a Challenge Garden, too.) Next: intellectual challenges (The finest dances for our grey cells, expanding, opening, everything mind (You’ll need a good meal afterwards.)). What comes next just shows how serious this project is. Not your typical: I tell you what to do, how to do it, and you better believe me or we’ll all go to hell. No this project says: Today is Challenges Day, and we invite you to challenge us: challenge all campaigns, challenge the town project, challenge our business ideas. And since there is no one better suited to challenge the town project than the people involved in the town project, they also have events where: the campaigns challenge themselves (self-reflection is one of the big eye openers we need to rediscover. It hurts, sure. But it’s delicious. Liberating.), the campaigns challenge each other, the campaigns challenge the town project, the town project challenges the campaigns. Yes, these town people are a bit crazy. They are thorough. And they are in the fight. Not for themselves. Not for a title. Not for our applause. But because they want to build a town for their research, and they challenge us to get our minds into gear and think with them — and challenge our government to give this project the go-ahead. // Just after four in the afternoon, Isabel, head of campaigns, informed all campaign teams about the decision to cancel the events planned for week four. Seth, head of business liaison, told the project businesses about the vote in parliament, and Alice spoke with the Building Site Team and with the heads of the town project teams. It is true, that shockwaves rippled through the project. But the shockwaves were quickly replaced by defiance which stoked the fires of resistance and heated the flames for the fights to come. At six, Isabel and Alice announced the change of plans in a live-streamed interview with Mudiwa and Rose. The public’s reactions were surprisingly understanding and in many cases supportive, with some expressing their gratitude for all the events the project had done. ‘I’m just glad, the Spring Specials are still on,’ a pedestrian told a reporter at a Challenge Your Elders event. ‘I took the day off and have it all planned out. I’ll visit sixteen events, all about Spring. It’ll be amazing. I know it.’ At a Challenge Nature event, a visitor remarked: ‘I’ve been expecting this. The amount of events— It’s a wonder they kept it going for this long. But I’m glad there’s another Press Pause day. I think that’s the most important of all the campaigns. Thinking needs time, and we need thinking, or we’ll forever be stuck in a world that only pretends it knows the first thing about anything.’ At the No Heroes Required event, a child said: ‘They are absolutely right. They must get the town so we don’t need heroes any more, and so we learn how to live with each other and with nature without punching.’ // In the evening, Alice chose to attend the final of the nine The universe is worried shows. She didn’t have time for it. But she still hadn’t found her balance and needed something to distract her, something that might allow her to clear her mind. Halfway into the show, Alice was laughing heartily and began to feel better. This night, the universe spoke about heroes — that is, the seven members of the universe alliance, six of whom sat on armchairs crafted from great tree roots, shared stories from their planets — tonight about heroes. The present speaker stood at the front of the stage. They wore a kind of armour made from thousands of small cones, comparable to those humans might find on cypresses, and whenever they moved or raised their arms, the rattling cones sounded like soft rain. ‘I remember the period when I was initiated into the age of the ridiculer, which is a very honourable age and comes with the great responsibility of administrating ridicule whenever a member of our society needs grounding and self-reflection. It is part of the initiation ritual to find and present something extraordinary to ridicule. My five parents advised me to take a weeklong journey along the three-islands-bridge-path circle and to seek inspiration. But a storm forced me deeper inland, on the second island, and I found shelter in an old library which was cared for by a family of sixteen. It was there that I heard about heroes for the first time, and I laughed, and laughed, and laughed. Never in my life had I heard anything this ridiculous. A hero! A single person who would make everything right? Ridiculous! “You are right to laugh,” said one of the library’s elders. “But here is something you might not know. You are only capable of seeing the hero for what he is, because your mind has been trained to think for itself, your body has been trained to act for itself, your soul has been nurtured so that it can trust and bond with your fellow humans, animals and plants alike. It’s not like that everywhere. On some planets, humans have lost all sorts of connections. And a human without connections is a scared creature. A scared creature’s mind, body and soul are often scarred, damaged, in need of healing, and rarely get what they need to be whole, balanced, capable of trust and bonding.” “But that is dreadful!” I exclaimed and felt echoes in my body, mind and soul of incredible pain such disconnections must cause. “They rarely feel the pain any more,” the elder said. “They only sense what they call anxiety and helplessness. It’s a state where they lost their grounding.” “But don’t they have anyone who could ridicule them?” My elder shook their head. “Sadly, not in a way that would allow them to find purchase.” “How dreadful!” I exclaimed, shook my head and asked: “Is this why they invented heroes?” My elder smiled. “Yes. Throughout the universe, hope is every creature’s constant companion. Hope made desperate people dream of someone whole, someone who could rescue them from their dismal world and restore a world full of promise.” “How sad,” I said and wondered whether I could ever ridicule an idea which made matters worse for humans on other planets. Some days later, after studying the circumstances of how heroes, saviours and great leaders came about, I decided to find something less tragic for my presentation. I also decided, that, should I ever get the chance to travel to a planet where heroes paralyse a people, I would offer my friendship, my stories and my gentle ridicule to them.’ The speaker bowed, the small cones rattled softly, and the audience applauded. ‘What’s wrong with heroes?’ a young boy called, and Alice recognised Davie’s voice. She found him and Jack two rows behind her. Jack smiled at Alice. And the speaker on the stage said: ‘Thank you, young human. I have high hopes for you. Asking questions is a great antidote for all sorts of damages, provided one is favoured with the occasional answers.’ ‘And what is your answer?’ Davie called, grinning. The speaker smiled. ‘The hero only exists in the timid mind, never in reality. There is never a single person who can make everything right. And also, there is never a perfect constant, never a perfect world the hero could restore. The world, on any planet, is always an accumulation of moments, some of them perfect. Any imbalance, and imbalances happen frequently on all planets which are alive, any imbalance is noticed by all concerned, and balance is restored by those people who are best equipped to counter this or that imbalance. The trouble is if you allow for heroes in stories, then people might internalise the idea that their actions are insignificant because they recognise that they have little or nothing in common with the person in the story. But the truth is, everyone is always needed, and everyone always contributes to imbalances and to balances because everything is connected. The safest and most nurturing approach is to expose the hero for what it is, and then to devise a farewell ritual for all the heroes of a planet and to enter the processes of healing, strengthening and connecting. No hero can do that for anyone. It’s something every single human has the privilege to do for themselves. And once some healing takes roots, connections and strength can be built. Does this answer your question, young human?’ ‘I have to think about it.’ ‘Then I have high hopes for you.’ With this the speaker bowed again and returned to their seat, accompanied by applause. Next Kahu, who was dressed in a blue flowing robe, stood up. ‘On our planet, we used to worship heroes, all of them dead, and we used to pray for a hero to emerge in our time. We were convinced that the coming of a saviour was needed to bring about the changes we so urgently needed.’ A smiled formed on Kahu’s face. ‘We had a hero. A child of eleven, snotty nose, impatient as the abyss, and it said: ‘No one’s gonna come. I’m hungry. I hate the stinking air, the poisoned river, the dead soil. I’m tired of you all whining and waiting when we could already chase away the polluters, and when we could already be cleaning up our planet.’ Being a snotty and a clever kid, it added: ‘And don’t you dare call me a hero! Let’s just get the job done!’ // This night Alice climbed to the roof above her flat and walked to the centre of the garden. There she looked into the sky: some clouds, some twinkling stars. Alice took a deep breath, spread her arms and said: I won’t give up! I won’t GIVE UP! I WON’T GIVE UP! As if in answer to her call, more clouds cleared, more stars appeared, and a little smile settled on her face. She didn’t know why, but the sky, the stars, the enormity of the universe filled her with energy. It made her feel small, but at the same time, she drank from something, and she was grateful for every drop of energy that began to run through her body and mind.

© Charlie Alice Raya, book 4, building, 2025