Harden looked up at the giant LED clock presiding over a section of the arched timber wall in the Grand Tatami room. It was 8.45 am. In one hour, two bombs were set to detonate. One in the main room itself. The other, the President’s car. They were Russian and Chinese?made bombs. Both had had the fingerprints of well?known military officials from both countries placed onto them. An easy task in the dead of night for the Stranded.

  In fact, Harden (under the alias Ben Sharp) was to detonate the first bomb in his briefcase. Which, as you would be aware dear reader, would not affect him at all. Others, in an area the size of the main room, would suffer a terrible fate.

  Except—the Chinese and Russian attendees, at 9.40 am, would receive a credible impending assassination warning, causing them to vacate the building. Just as they reached safety, the room would be annihilated. With Harden’s final encouragement, initial nuclear strikes on Russia and China would bring on the beginning of the end of the world as we now know it.

  The President was the last to be seated as the German and French Ministers slowly finished making the rounds, exchanging chit?chat with other heads of state, mainly for the cameras.

  The Deputy Secretary?General, who was today’s chairwoman, began events for the final day as headphones were placed on and translators prepared for their complicated tasks.

  Jezebel was seated in a room not too far from the Grand Tatami room. A steady stream of selfies from excited staff kept her busy, as Aunt Cathy chatted to Brian and Pamela about how it was all going. Brian and Pamela particularly liked the Prime Minister story, though Cathy had omitted all the stressful moments—which added up to about seventy percent of the story. Needless to say, Aunt Cathy got off the phone as fast as she could when Pamela started demanding answers about an internet photo of Jezebel on a stage in Hawaii.

  Two officials came into the room and hurried the staff away as they relayed to Jezebel in Japanese that it was time to follow them to the Grand Tatami room. Cathy was nervous, but Jezebel, with a little help from Astar, was as cool as a cucumber.

  Jezebel carried Tibbar along the rice?paper?walled hallway to the Grand Tatami room directly ahead.

  In Fariddion the council watched on. However, once again Gamaden was running late.

  A warm round of applause greeted Jezebel as she let go of Aunt Cathy’s hand and walked down a stylish ramp into the middle of 193 member states of the United Nations. Aunt Cathy had to look again with narrowing eyes at this wonderful moment.

  “If they only knew,” Cathy whispered.

  Jezebel made her way up a handful of steps onto a small elevated speaking platform surrounded by bonsai trees. She inspected the bonsai and took her time moving to the microphone. A media scrum huddled at the bottom of the speaker’s nest went wild taking photographs. Three large television cameras were situated around the outside walls. Two focused only on Miss York.

  Newsrooms around the world went live as Jezebel, holding her black toy rabbit, finished bowing and prepared to speak. At first she gave a short bow and thanked the hosts in Japanese for their hospitality and participation. This caught most newsrooms out, which could only show a minute of the young lady talking in a language 95% of their audience didn’t understand, while anchors filled the time with obvious commentary about Jezebel greeting the hosts in their own language, pitching ideas about respecting diversity and customs, and reassuring viewers it had nothing to do with cultural appropriation.

  “Today, I can’t go any further without mentioning Shinzo Abe,” Jezebel smiled. “Who, after his tragic assassination, I would like to point out, was a world leader of immense character and charm. Both here in Japan and when visiting abroad. And of course here in the United Nations.” Applause began. “Who, among many things, oversaw the rebuilding of Japan after the devastating tsunami in 2011. And more recently, the Olympic Games.” Jezebel bowed.

  The Japanese delegation stood and applauded.

  “Thank you so much, ladies and gentlemen. What an inspiring welcome. I am very happy to be here today after accepting your invitation to address this council. You’re very brave!” Jezebel laughed. “My name is Jezebel York. I’m thirteen years of age next week and I’m from a small village in the United Kingdom called Bearing, just outside London. The youngest of two children. Daughter to Brian and Pamela York. Because I only have a short amount of time allotted to talk, I will begin.”

  The members raised their heads in anticipation of the clever young girl’s words.

  “Last century, in the dark days of 1945, the United Nations was formed, and so began to bring a better understanding of how to work and live together. A meeting place for the different cultures of the world. In my opinion it should stay that way. We are United Nations. Not the United Nation. A place to be heard and where we can find clarity about each other’s affairs. There have been so many highlights from its conception to maintain international peace and security. Organising humanitarian assistance to meet people’s needs. Bringing strength and support in cases to protect human rights. And to maintain international law. What a great job it has done. We are most impressed. We, the children and teenagers of the world, applaud it.”

  A generous round of applause rippled around the room.

  “Many children, I have been told, are watching me now both here and around the world. To all of you, I hope I can reflect a sense of common understanding. And not hide undesirable facts by using newly crafted influential complicated words—political jargon. Sorry, excuse me,” Jezebel laughed.

  The audience laughed loudly at first, then, realising their guilt, quickly went silent.

  “The easiest excuse is the truth,” said Astar. “For as children, we are the future. But today, we are kids. Still learning the complicated ways of the world. One of those complicated ways is the world’s desperate need for us to buy into a sense that the adults in the room have got it all right. In many ways they have. Nevertheless, stay close to your family values. If they are strong, keep them strong. The world needs that more than ever. The conception of the UN navigated the world away from difficult waters to safer shores in the second half of last century,” Jezebel smiled.

  The politicians smiled broadly and shone with excitement from Jezebel’s sudden shift to uplifting words of appreciation. Several groups gave a quick standing ovation.

  “Yes. Oh yes, we thank them… unfortunately, the charted courses they set found influential challenges from America’s strong sense of entitlement after the Second World War, and Russia’s in defeating Nazi Germany. And so a constant divide was formed until the fall of the Berlin Wall. The closing years of the 20th century saw the world a little safer with the Intermediate?Range Nuclear Forces Treaty, signed by Presidents Reagan and Gorbachev.”

  Jezebel took a drink of water. Astar, it seemed, had planned to do quite a lot of talking.

  “Our hope of a new and brilliant beginning to the 21st century was rocked by the terrible events of 9/11. There is little doubt we commiserate that this event altered the course of this ship previously plotted in the 20th century. That course, and their wishes, were reset by forces both seen and unseen. You are now taking on responsible positions as Captains, Commodores, Admirals. You have the authority to set the world’s course in so many ways. So as elected and non?elected officials—before you look with your ambitions to conquer new lands, passages, records, conform, or pursue a modern?day sense of global deliverance—please remember who your current crew is. Us. The children. We are always the same. Feed us and we are happy. Punish us and we will cry. Show us love and you will get love in return. Show us games and we will hop, skip and jump. Show us phones with too much information and our young minds can be confused and manipulated by those who know no better. With or without guidance this is a struggle. There are many wonderful things to share and see on these devices, and there are many bad actors as well,” Jezebel giggled.

  The room quietened, except for a few scattered coughs and throat?clearing.

  “Are you enjoying my lecture?” Jezebel asked. “You did invite me, remember?”

  A warm round of applause and laughter ensued.

  “Please be careful with your sense of correctness. It is important to hear all sides of reason. It has not improved anything by rewriting a subject that only teaches what one side of the classroom wants to hear. Such opinions make the answers obsolete. This goes for all types of children’s and adults’ education. And I mean all. Children do not need such antagonism. Mr President, can I ask you a question?”

  “Go ahead,” the President smiled.

  “Yane no joku wo kikimashita ka?” Jezebel asked.

  “What did she say?” the President asked, baffled, until the question was translated.

  “Have you heard the roof joke, Mr President?” the interpreter explained.

  “Oh, no, I haven’t heard the roof joke,” the President smiled.

  “Ki ni shinai de kudasai. Sore wa anata no ue ni arimasu,” Jezebel smiled, waving her hand dismissively.

  “Don’t worry about it. It’ll go over your head,” the interpreters explained.

  The room laughed and the President loved it.

  “Thank you, thank you. As a citizen of a member country, it is important to have my opinion heard. Of course I realise that some of you will hate what I say. And as such there are those who view my words as most acceptable. From a spiritual perspective, I feel life on earth is not the end of our journey. I, Jezebel York, believe that when I die, I move to another place to live. And there, in this place, which some call heaven, there is no longer a desire for change, but the change we are shown is the one eternal path of peace and love.”

  There was a pause as a Japanese boy and girl came from nowhere and asked for Jezebel’s signature. She signed happily and the members applauded as the children left the way they’d come in. As Jezebel paused again, a strange silence fell over the room. Many wished she’d finish up and leave. Others saw her speech as a breath of fresh air.

  Jezebel drank more water and looked at the individuals’ faces more closely. She could read their souls. It frightened her. She saw things of concern and things of grace. She gasped, only to be calmed by Astar’s inner voice of peace.

  “A reduction of pace is required. Please slow down. Birth is a nine?month process. A child is nurtured and bottled and washed and held. They must learn to talk. To read. Reduction in energy cannot be a cost for families to bear during this time of nurture. You must find other ways or the child suffers and you will suffer. The world will not stop turning because of us. Reductions in health, wealth, culture, identity and medical choices should stop. As too the price of electricity and gas. Essential for safe, easy, cost?effective living standards which at this point the United Nations are failing on.”

  The narrative has been taken without permission. Report any sightings.

  “Thank you for your time, Jezebel,” Hilda, Deputy Secretary?General of the United Nations, smiled as she attempted to move Jezebel away from the microphone to end the speech. But to her own confusion, Hilda spoke into the microphone and said:

  “Only kidding. What a wonderful speech this is. A warm round of applause please, everyone,” Hilda insisted enthusiastically. “We really are enjoying it. Thank you, Jezebel. Do go on. It’s about time some hard truths were spoken here.”

  She left the stage and happily sat back down, to the astonishment of several closely aligned bureaucrats. Newsrooms around the world clattered with headlines of support from the Deputy Secretary?General.

  “Thank you so much, Deputy Secretary?General. Your words of support are so true. We are all so aware of a certain speech on the 24th of September 2019. The UAS. It labelled blame upon you. How dare you? I also say similar words. But not with bitterness and volatile emotion. I say: how dare you change course. There is always so, so much time. The world will not end by plant and animal decay being released back into the atmosphere. This is not a crisis. You have nothing to be ashamed of in the United Nations’ role in the development of improving the lives of the many. That is your main job. Of course protect the old?growth forests that filter our waterways. Protect the habitats for our animals that so need the land or sea to exist beside and with us. Care for the whales. Reduce plastics. Recycle. Recycle. Recycle. Invent. Improve. Go to the moon. Your course is to help your fellow child, woman and man. Continue the giant leaps for mankind.”

  Again Jezebel sipped water and appreciated the applause. Cathy stood in the hallway listening to the words of Fariddion.

  “A certain amount of tyranny is written in your pages. I say trim your sails. Trim your ambitions. Discuss your course. Weigh anchor. Celebrate life. Celebrate what we have accomplished. Become more harmonious individuals. Stop declaring sweeping laws that outlaw farmers’ inherent right to feed the world. Remember that wonderful concert from last century? Relearn to feed the world. We are the world. We are the children. We are the ones that make a brighter day. So, let’s start giving. Celebrate where we have come from. Celebrate peace. Freedom. Celebrate those who sailed us here. Stop looking to fix what is not broken. To the Prime Minister of the United Kingdom—can I ask you something?” Jezebel smiled, looking shocked.

  “Oh, go on then,” the Prime Minister laughed.

  “Benjamin Furankurin wa denki wo hakkenshita toki dono yō ni kanjimashita ka?” Jezebel smiled.

  “Shock,” the interpreter answered for the Prime Minister.

  “Shokku!” the Prime Minister replied.

  “Are you sure you didn’t get a little bit of help with that answer, Prime Minister?” Jezebel giggled.

  “Ah, well, well… perhaps. Perhaps just a little. I… I… I heard the answer in my head,” the Prime Minister smiled. “I’m too impulsive.”

  The room chuckled.

  “Thank you, thank you. The last thing I’d like to say to you all here today is—if you must fear the demise of Earth, fear it most by the onslaught of a nuclear war. The end of the human race by our own inventive hands. This is irreversible. There would be no chance of rebuilding after a 21st?century nuclear war. Just a slow, suffering end to mankind. But not the animal kingdom, who would inherit the earth. If wanting peace is not written down on your agenda today in front of you, then perhaps you have taken on the wrong job. For in 1945 this was the United Nations’ main goal. Peace. A coming together of separate nations. Do not look to rebuild walls with the people you represent. I humbly thank the United Nations for giving me this small opportunity to share my concerns for my generation. My main task here today is almost complete. I will always have peace in my heart while the tide carries your hopes and dreams along in your voyage of discovery. And to my fellow children watching today I say: be children first. You will sit in these seats one day. With a good heart you can do good. With a wise heart you can see the good that others may not. Take command of the wonderful, beautiful, glorious earth. Our ship.”

  Jezebel looked around the room. She placed her open hand as a sign of welcome and thanks.

  “In darkness there is darkness, with a chance of light!”

  The room went black. People began talking in questioning tones, unsure if this was planned.

  “In light, there is light, with a chance of darkness,” Jezebel said.

  People began to wonder if there was a problem as the emergency lighting only managed to show shadows. When the lights came back on, Jezebel was gone.

  Harden looked at the time. Only thirty seconds remained until the Chinese and Russian delegations would depart. But they did not move. They only accepted more tea and snacks. He was dismayed. The phone calls they were supposed to have received had not been made. His instructions had not been carried out by Ross somehow. There had been a problem. And that problem had been Elvin and Karen.

  Five minutes counted down to a handful of seconds remaining. Harden watched the clock. He stood from his chair and counted out loud. No matter—he could explain it as needed.

  “Six. Five,” Harden whispered.

  The Vice President watched Ben Sharp in dismay.

  “Two. One…” Harden glared.

  Nothing happened.

  Harden slowly began to shake with rage. He looked down for his briefcase. It was gone.

  He looked around the room. Across the room he saw Jezebel holding his briefcase over her head. She turned and walked away from the Grand Tatami room.

  Harden jumped over the US delegation’s desk, ignoring the protests of the President and Vice President. He effortlessly climbed onto the place where Jezebel had just finished her speech. He knocked out the six?foot?four, three?hundred?pound Mr Mori with ease, then miraculously caught up to Jezebel in seconds.

  Jezebel flung open a door to her right along the hall and darted inside, barely managing to break free of Harden’s grasping fingertips.

  Harden planned to kill Jezebel instantly and detonate the bomb in the middle of the Grand Tatami room immediately after.

  He hurried into the room with building joy. He squinted as he charged ahead through the blinding pink and orange light. He swung his arms about, enraged, desperate to find Jezebel.

  He fell. He was tumbling helplessly.

  Harden crashed face?down into hard snow. His hands grasped at the snow between his fingers. He looked up and saw an old lady leading Jezebel by the hand. They walked right off the mountainside along a cloudy path. Jezebel looked over her shoulder at Harden. Tibbar too looked back before they vanished.

  Harden gasped. He looked around at the cold icy mountains as far as he could see. He jumped to his feet. The wind howled and blew his tie into his eyes. He ripped the tie off and barked angrily at his surroundings. He stood totally alone.

  “No… NOOOOOOO!!!” he bellowed in misery.

  Jezebel found herself standing on the large white circle in the Shop of History with Tibbar, Astar and Mrs Sheen.

  She then realised that many Fariddions were gathered in the shop and outside in the lane.

  Jezebel then realised that many Fariddions gathered in the lane outside were there to welcome them. Storm was there too. Aunt Cathy. Elvin. Karen. Fire. Earth. Water. Bootum. Rubbuz. Stone. Bluey also appeared briefly. Jezebel was first greeted excitedly by JW and his dog Archie. Fariddions cheered for Jezebel. Bells began to ring throughout its many doors, all different sizes and sounds in celebration.

  “Thank you for your help, Jezebel,” said Tibbar. “Fariddion is now safe. So too is the living earth.”

  “Thank you,” Astar smiled. “You did very well.”

  Jezebel smiled.

  “I’ve never talked so much in my life!” Jezebel laughed. Astar laughed as well.

  “Now, we’ve got to save you,” Tibbar said, watching her.

  “Whatever do you mean?” Jezebel asked.

  A sudden hush fell over the lane.

  The bells stopped.

  Fariddions stepped back instinctively as a soft white glow formed around Jezebel’s feet, spreading outward in a perfect circle. Astar placed a steadying hand on Jezebel’s shoulder.

  “You have crossed a threshold,” Astar said gently. “You have spoken truth to the world. You have changed the course of nations. And now the world will look for you… and not always with kindness.”

  The glow brightened.

  Mrs Sheen stepped forward, her eyes full of ancient worry.

  “Every child who carries light must also be shielded from the shadows it attracts,” she said. “Fariddion is safe. But you, Jezebel York… you are not.”

  Jezebel swallowed. “What happens now?”

  The sky above Fariddion cracked open like a sheet of glass struck by a hammer — not crashing down but revealing. Behind it shimmered a vast expanse of swirling colours, like the northern lights dancing in a storm.

  A deep, resonant voice rolled across the lane.

  “THE CHILD HAS SPOKEN. THE WORLD HAS HEARD. NOW THE YOUNGER GENERATION WILL SEEK DEEPER TRUTHS.”

  Tibbar bowed his head. “The Council of Fariddion has decided. You must be hidden. Protected. Prepared.”

  “Prepared for what?” Jezebel whispered.

  “For the return,” Astar said softly. “For the moment when Fariddion calls you again.”

  The swirling sky bent downward, forming a spiraling column of light that touched the ground before Jezebel. The Fariddions gasped. Aunt Cathy grabbed Elvin’s arm. Storm stepped forward, eyes wide.

  Jezebel felt the pull — gentle, warm, familiar.

  “Is this… safe?” she asked.

  “For now,” Tibbar said. “But the path ahead will not be.”

  Elvin walked Aunt Cathy into the circle next to Jezebel. Cathy took Jezebel's hand.

  Astar knelt so her eyes were level with Jezebel’s.

  “You saved Fariddion. You saved the living earth. But the forces that wished for destruction have not vanished. They may try to reform and try again. Harden was one. There will be others. Possibly in your lifetime.”

  Jezebel’s heart thudded.

  “So, what do I do?”

  Astar smiled — proud, sad, and full of something ancient.

  “You grow. You learn. You rest. And when the time comes… you rise.”

  The column of light flared.

  Fariddions bowed.

  Aunt Cathy reached out, tears in her eyes. “Astar, Tibbar—”

  Jezebel took Cathy's hand back, squeezed it, and held tight.

  “Ready?” Astar asked.

  “No,” Jezebel said honestly. “But I’ll go anyway.”

  The light swallowed them.

  The lane erupted in a roar of bells, cheers, and the thunder of ancient doors opening and closing in celebration.

  And as Jezebel and Cathy vanished into the swirling brilliance, a final whisper echoed across Fariddion:

  “THE CHILD OF TWO WORLDS HAS BEGUN HER JOURNEY. OUR JOURNEY REMAINS... FARIDDION”