preview, book 2/1, travelling

Preview book 2/1, travelling

and we need to talk about sex

What you need to know beforehand

About this extract

Alice Adler and her travelling team are in Brazil, the second stop on their journey around the world. The aim of this journey is to build an international network for the town project, to visit the new international teams and to see some of the new Hub Stations.

About the story

Alice Adler convinced the US billionaire Tom Holbon to join her in developing a town experiment. The aim of the experiment is to question — well, everything.

The Hub started as the project’s own social media platform and has evolved into an internet within the internet.

The Hub Stations maintain the Hub network and include facilities for education, health, art and businesses to support local communities.

About some of the characters

Alice Adler, born in Berlin, 1972, head of the Easy Town Foundation. Before the project, Alice worked as a freelancer in photography and web design. First impression: sportive casual, unruly short dark hair

Tom Holbon, born in New York, 1953, American businessman, programmer, formerly the richest man on the planet, philanthropist, married to Fran Holbon. Tom heads the project’s Business Team. First impression: business casual, greying

THE is an exclusive security company which operates independently and internationally. THE only work for people or organisations they respect. First impression of THE members: professional, casual black attire; first name only.

[Tom] ‘Well, I’m glad THE protect us.’
‘Mhm,’ Alice murmured.
She was glad too. She just didn’t like being monitored. And THE was big on monitoring. She had to wear a trackable leather wristband with silver embroideries. It measured her vital signs, and it could make recordings. In addition, she was usually followed by two guards, presently by Jazz and Anthony.

book 2/1, travelling, Happy Flying, US

Any, real name and personal information unknown, founder and head of THE. First impression: classified

Jazz, born in London, 1982, security expert, head of Project Security in cooperation with THE, and martial arts instructor. Jazz works out with Alice. First impression: athletic, stern, thick curly crown of short dark hair

Rio de Janeiro

preview for book 2/1, travelling

The journey

______________________________________Fri, July 8
Tom’s estate
New York
San Francisco
______________________________________Tue, July 12
Rio de Janeiro
Buenos Aires
South Africa

Rio de Janeiro, Brazil

12-16 July 2016

DAY 4 // Friday, Rio de Janeiro

‘Easy Town will be a place for the privileged, won’t it?’
‘Nanda,’ Alice said tiredly, looking at the big woman who was sitting next to her on the sofa. ‘We’ve been in Rio, what? Three or four days? And you’re still asking me this question?’
Nanda shifted in her seat. ‘Alice, look around you. We are sitting in the lobby of a palace.’
‘It’s a five-star hotel, not a palace.’
‘Waiting for lunch to be SERVED in a private dining room.’
‘It’s a hotel—’
‘Eating and meeting with a view of Copacabana Beach.’
‘Look, I told you, THE insisted on this hotel for security reasons. Besides, these luxury hotels look the same everywhere. The only difference is the view.’
‘Complaining that the extreme luxury is monotonous if you HAVE TO travel around the world.’
‘Nanda, I get your point—’
‘I don’t think you do,’ Nanda interrupted again, pushing a red curl behind her ear. ‘I don’t think you understand the first thing about corrupt politicians or brutal police officers. I mean our president is about to be impeached. Our police shoot as readily as the mafia. And then, the damage done to this country only to host the Olympic Games, the displacement of ten thousands of people from favelas, to say nothing about crime, racism, drug trade, the criminalisation of the young, the stark poverty in this city alone. People are suffering while you are lounging in a palace.’
Alice sat up.
She liked Nanda. A lot.
Nanda was a nurse at a local hospital. She lost her husband and her two children in a gang-related crossfire. From this tragedy, she emerged as a trusted visitor to the city’s favelas, helping the ill and the wounded. She never graduated from a university, but over the years, she acquired enough knowledge and expertise to do a doctor’s job. She felt deeply about the injustice in her city. According to her, even if she could, she would never stoop so low as to get rich. Now she was the head of the International Easy Town Project Team Brazil, something of a protective mother dragon you didn’t want to cross — big and strong.
Working with Nanda and her team was fun, energising and productive, despite some lingering general chaos within the travelling team. But Nanda kept repeating that Alice needed to understand the extreme rift between the majority of people, living in this vast country, and the comparatively small group that was in power — at least if Alice ever wanted to understand anything about Brazil.
‘All right,’ Alice said. ‘I don’t understand. But—’ Alice paused to give the but more weight. ‘But in our experiment, we are looking for a formula that prevents gaps, financial gaps and opportunity gaps. So we are doing something about these disparities. And while we are for freedom, no one will have the freedom to be an exploitative jerk or bastard or whatever you want to call them. Not in our town.’
Nanda smiled a little. ‘They are hard to get rid off. You met the bastards this morning. And you still haven’t told me about the meeting.’
‘A lot of macho in the room. Loved to hear themselves talk about the grand opening of the Olympic Games, next month.’
Nanda laughed wryly.
‘Other than that, hard to tell. Devery agrees with me that it went a bit too smoothly. Javiera couldn’t discover anything fishy. And Tom thinks it’s all fine.’
‘They are government. They lie. They don’t care.’
‘They agreed to eight Hub Stations in Brazil.’
‘They want the money.’
‘They granted autonomy for the Hub Stations in return for businesses, education and healthcare. They don’t get money as such.’
‘I don’t trust them.’
‘Ah, here’s the gong for our luxury meal. Let’s eat and let’s put our replenished energies to good use.’
‘You’re insufferable, Alice.’
‘Only because I like you. Honestly, what can I say? I believe that the town experiment can help, because it rethinks the way we do business and learn and work and heal and, and, and. And all we have to do is test theories until we hit gold.’
Nanda got up. ‘Did you know we had a gold rush in Brazil?’

Entering the private dining room, Alice was intercepted by Leo, and she lost sight of Nanda. Towards the end of lunch, Nanda reappeared, her face unexpectedly grave.
‘What is it, Nanda?’ Alice asked, wiping her mouth and getting up from the table.
‘We need to talk,’ Nanda replied in a low voice. ‘And you should bring Jazz. No one else. Maybe your room?’

Some ten minutes later, Alice sat down on an upholstered box while Jazz and Nanda sat on the armchairs in front of the French windows.
Alice’s suite had a stunning view across Copacabana Beach, but no one present was paying it any attention.
Both Alice and Jazz were watching Nanda, waiting for her to begin. Earlier, on the way to the fifth floor, Nanda didn’t say a word, and she was still avoiding eye contact. Right now, her head was bowed, her hands folded in her lap.
When Nanda finally looked up, defiance flashed from her eyes.
Again Alice asked: ‘Nanda, what is it?’
Nanda inhaled, her chest extending. ‘There is someone you have to meet.’
‘And now, you’re going to tell me I have to meet some mafiosi lord?’ Alice teased in an attempt to lighten the heavy atmosphere.
To Alice’s surprise and dismay, Nanda didn’t laugh.
She nodded.
Alice shook her head in disbelieve. ‘You’re kidding.’
‘I am not,’ Nanda replied, obviously annoyed by Alice’s reaction. ‘Alice, there’s a lot you don’t understand about this country. A word from the Dono, and there will be no Hub Station, no town, nor the team house you bought yesterday.’
‘But this morning, the negotiations with the government went well.’
‘You don’t understand. They are all corrupt. And you said it yourself, it went too smoothly.’
‘What are you saying?’
‘The Dono told them to agree to the Hub Stations.’
‘What? How do you know? And why?’
‘I was told the Dono wanted to demonstrate what’s possible.’
Alice frowned. ‘The Dono told the politicians to accept the Hub conditions so I’d see the extent of his influence?’
‘Yes. And he can reverse this morning’s outcome in a blink.’
‘But that’s— That sounds like a bad movie.’
‘We are living in a sickening movie.’
Alice grimaced, and her thoughts rebelled against the idea of playing along with a dono. There must be an alternative. ‘Does it make any sense to meet this guy if I’m not prepared to bribe him?’
Nanda blinked. ‘Would you bribe him?’
Nanda smiled a little. ‘I’m glad. But then we’ll probably lose everything.’
‘How do you know about this meeting?’
‘I was given a message.’
‘What message?’
‘That I’m to take you to a street where someone will pick you up for the meeting. You’re to come alone at three this afternoon.’
‘No,’ Jazz said.
Nanda and Alice looked at Jazz.
‘No,’ Jazz repeated with a stern face.
Alice stood up and went to the window.
She looked across Copacabana Beach, which stretched far to the right. Her mind presented her with a blank, a bit like the blanket of white sand on the beach. After a while, Alice let her eyes wander back to the pedestrian entrance of the hotel, a square with palm trees left and right. A young couple left the hotel, arm in arm, crossed the square and walked to the road which ran between the hotel and the beach. They let a car pass, crossed the road to the promenade and strolled to the beach.
Alice turned away from the window and said: ‘Nanda, can you send a message to the Dono?’
‘Do you trust him?’
‘No. And yes. I can’t guarantee your safety, but they owe me. And they respect me. It doesn’t get safer than that. If you can make a deal with the Dono, the Dono will honour the deal as long as you do the same.’
Alice turned to Jazz whose expression was still stern. ‘Jazz, do we have bulletproof vests?’
‘Alice, this is too dangerous.’
‘Do we?’
Jazz pursed her lips. ‘Yes.’
Alice looked at Nanda. There was pride in Nanda’s eyes. Pride and sparkles of determination to fight on — with or without Alice.
Alice looked at Jazz again. ‘Jazz, didn’t Tom say we’re on this trip to make allies? We have enough enemies as it is. And something tells me that the word of a criminal is more trustworthy than that of a banker, manager or politician.’
Alice could see that Jazz wanted to argue, wanted to talk her out of this, so she added: ‘Jazz, I’m going with Nanda. With or without protection.’
Jazz shook her head — annoyed and a little angry, it seemed. She briefly closed her eyes, then she asked Nanda: ‘Will they accept two guards with weapons?’
‘They might allow you to come to the location. I doubt they would allow you inside.’
Alice and Jazz exchanged a glance, but again Alice forestalled Jazz and said to Nanda: ‘Two of my people will accompany me to the location. At the first sign of anything funny, they’ll call for reinforcement. How crazy is this guy?’
‘He isn’t crazy, but he can be ruthless.’
Jazz still looked annoyed when she stood up and said to Nanda. ‘We need to know the approximate location beforehand. He will have heard of THE, so he’ll know we won’t tell on him, or his people, as long as he plays nice.’ Jazz looked at her watch. ‘It’s nearly two o’clock. We can leave the hotel at four o’clock earliest. And we insist on two guards outside the door.’
‘I’ll tell them,’ Nanda said and got up too. ‘A messenger is waiting outside the hotel.’
‘Could you tell them I don’t speak Portuguese?’ Alice said to the retreating figure.
‘The Dono speaks English,’ Nanda replied over her shoulder and left the room.

After making a phone call to her team, Jazz joined Alice at the window, and they both looked at the square in front of the hotel. There was a group of tourists, assembling in the shadows of the palm trees. The tourists kept turning towards the entrance of the hotel, apparently waiting for latecomers.
Nanda appeared on the square. At first, the tourists eyed her suspiciously, then they continued their conversations.
On the other side of the square, a small boy appeared from behind a palm tree and ran to Nanda. Nanda and the boy exchanged a few words. Then the boy ran back behind the palm tree, a mobile phone in his hand. Nanda remained standing.
The tourists welcomed a latecomer and got moving. Two or three of them gave Nanda nervous looks, before they all crossed the street, turned right and walked along the promenade.
Time passed.
‘Any advice?’ Alice asked into the silence.
‘Trust your instincts. Remember our training. Don’t take your recklessness into the meeting. Also, don’t tell anyone about this.’
‘Deals with people like the Dono only work in secret. The Dono’s power lies in a net of manipulations, often playing several sides. If you want the Dono to be useful to the project, no one can know about the meeting or about a deal. And if you don’t want him to play you, be yourself: honest, direct. With criminals you usually get what you give. They have a code of honour, even if it’s a bit twisted.’
‘Next time you want to go on a kamikaze mission ask for time out, and let me give you a better idea of what you’re getting yourself into.’
‘But why didn’t you interrupt the meeting?’
‘Because you might be right. Nanda and her team might need the Dono’s protection. And because THE has had dealings with mafiosi. I hope, Any can call in a favour or two. If he can’t, I’ll personally lock you up in this room.’
Jazz and Alice exchanged a lopsided smile.


Alice left the hotel with Jazz and Anthony, dressed in a simple jeans, a bulletproof vest, a red t-shirt and a leather jacket. She was surprised to see Devery, all geared up, waiting next to a van. Alice knew that Devery had worked with THE for more than two decades before joining the Hub Team, but she never expected— ‘Devery! You’re coming too?’
‘Of course. I’ll always gear up when something like this happens. We’re all set. Giselle and Kenny just phoned in. They have an ambulance ready should anything happen. And the Dono got a call from an old acquaintance who once tried to cross THE. After that, he should be reluctant to do anything stupid.’
‘What happened to the acquaintance?’
‘You don’t want to know.’
Devery put a hand on Alice’s shoulder. ‘And don’t worry. Be yourself, and you’ll be fine.’
They bumped their fists together and got into the van.

It took about twenty minutes to reach the outskirts of one of Rio’s favelas. Nanda was waiting for them at a quiet street corner, her impressive figure set against a blue wall, her face serious.
Alice left the van, and Nanda led the way up a narrow street. Jazz and Anthony followed. Devery and Dona stayed in the van. And more of THE’s people were already in the area.
Alice was a little uneasy. Going up this empty street felt like intruding on someone’s privacy, like sneaking around where they had no business.
That was probably why they didn’t talk.
The buildings on either side looked like stacked shoeboxes, usually three boxes on top of each other. Most shoeboxes looked derelict, some were painted, some redbrick.
Looking up, Alice saw satellite dishes protruding from windows and more on the roofs, sometimes next to a washing line.
At the next corner, they turned left into a passage, walking in a single file. It was darker here, and it smelled of urine. Alice kept her eyes on the ground to avoid stepping into something. And to sort of keep an eye on the two mice which were scurrying along the wall. At least no rats — visible.
Alice looked up when she heard engine noises and voices ahead of them. Shortly afterwards, they turned into a busy, upwards winding street, a single lane, a mess of cables criss-crossing above their heads.
Alice was surprised to find so much life here.
As they walked on, they passed little shops, bars and grills. On the street, motorbikes weaved past pedestrians; a musician sat on the ground, idly plucking his guitar; a group of older men assembled in front of a flat screen outside a bar; two women painted each other’s fingernails; some kids kicked around a can; a father walked down the street with his daughter; an old woman leant on her makeshift walking frame, resting before proceeding up the street; a young woman hurried into a little grill next to the open sewers.
‘It’s a modernised favela,’ Jazz told her earlier, ‘not one with tin shacks.’
But even so, it was still a favela.
There was life here, yes. There was the occasional laughter, yes. Probably even a sense of home, of pride, of belonging. And there was a roof over the head. There was food.
But who would choose to live here?
People here were crammed together, their homes run down. Anxiety and despair was tangible in the air: a young man looking over his shoulder; a woman wiping her careworn face; a man exposing his rotten teeth with a grin; some young women and men trying to attract customers; a drunken man opening another can.
Alice was deep in thoughts when she saw something so surreal, on the small square they were entering, that she stopped abruptly.
‘What the heck?’ she burst out.
Nanda stopped too and said calmly: ‘They are just tourists.’
‘What are they doing here?’ Alice exclaimed.
‘Never heard of slum tourism?’
‘I’ve heard of it. But— What’s wrong with these people?’
‘It brings money and awareness to the area.’
Alice shook her head.
She couldn’t stop staring at the group of expensively dressed tourists, snapping away at the misery of the favela with their latest smartphone models, happily shaking hands with locals, and obviously enjoying the tour into this wonderfully remote existence. They would have something to tell their friends over a nice dinner in their nice houses in their safe neighbourhoods, or on Instagram.
Alice wanted to punch every single one of them.
It was then that a small hand touched her clenched fist.
Alice looked down.
A slim girl, no older than nine, looked back at her with empty eyes. She was dressed in a jeans and a jumper, a jumper with a superman print.
‘Vamos!’ the girl said.
Alice opened her fist, and the girl slid her hand into hers. Closing her hand around the girl’s hand, Alice looked at Nanda, whose face was a story of defiance. With a nod, Nanda turned and walked back down the road.
The girl pulled at Alice’s hand. ‘Vamos! Come!’ she repeated more urgently.
Soon, they turned into a narrow street, leaving the tourists to their happy pursuits.
While Alice was still riled up about the tourists, she also felt apprehensive about the girl’s situation.
In her life, Alice had been short of money often enough. Some years were good, others a struggle. But in her adult life, this had mostly been her choice: an intriguing project over a well paid job, a whim over stability, a risk taken without thinking. There had been times when she could have chosen differently. She could have settled down. She could have opted for security. Probably.
This girl? Did she have a choice?
In anything?
Mixed into these thoughts was the knowledge that Alice was as much an intruder as the tourists. But her defiance pointed out that she, at least, had an invitation.
As they got higher and deeper into the favela, the tense atmosphere thickened. Here, the few people they saw were watching them. At one street corner, two men were playing with guns.
Alice felt calm.
In situations like this, her body sometimes took a different view than her mind, feeling the need to accelerate the heartbeat or to add some nausea. But luckily not today.
They entered another grubby street, a cul-de-sac with mostly redbrick shoeboxes. A single shoebox faced the entrance to the cul-de-sac, and in front of it stood four muscly men in jeans and jackets.
When one of the men came forward, the girl let go of Alice’s hand and ran back down the street.
Alice kept her eyes on the guard, who looked indifferent rather than dangerous, and who was probably in his late twenties.
‘Your—guards—outside,’ he said, stringing the words together as if they were something alien you had better not touch.
Alice nodded.
Alice frowned and raised her arms. The man searched her and hesitated when he noticed the bulletproof vest below the red t-shirt. He told an older colleague, and the colleague made a gesture that seemed to say: Who cares? Get on with it!
The wristband went unnoticed, and that meant, Security could listen in and record the meeting.
‘Down—hands,’ the man said. ‘Follow.’

Alice nearly burst out laughing when she entered the sparsely lit room. The air was thick with spicy, sweaty smells. The greyish walls were bare, the floor concrete, the window barred. Opposite the window sat an overweight man behind a shabby writing desk. Standing in the shadows were eleven or twelve men, some leaning against a wall, one of them fingering a gun.
A single chair stood at the centre of the room, a light bulb hanging above the chair.
Spotlight for her, shadows for the criminals. How very nice.
Alice twitched her mouth into a quarter-smile.
‘What’s so funny?’ the overweight man asked like someone who wanted to be in on the joke. He spoke with an accent steeped in Portuguese pronunciation.
‘Sorry,’ Alice said with a chuckle. ‘For a second there, I thought I walked onto a filmset.’
’Sit,’ he said with an amused snort.
He wore a grey suit and an open white shirt. Dark curls protruded from his shirt, his face was clean shaven, and the hair on his head was pomaded back. As for his age. Alice couldn’t tell in this dim light.
And, of course, he had a cigar going.
‘Thank you,’ Alice said.
She turned the chair around and sat down, putting her arms on the back of the chair. This was not an attempt at being cool, as such. But, if she had to defend herself, she could pull the chair up, and use it as shield and weapon. Easy — in theory.
The Dono watched her with an amused smile, taking slow puffs of his cigar.
A dono, Nanda explained earlier, was the boss of a favela. In this particular case, the Dono had influence in other favelas too. Furthermore, this Dono was said to have powerful ties to politicians, and he successfully bribed the greedy police who turned a blind eye to all his activities. Some business people bribed the Dono for protection and for an open ear with the politicians, who in turn could grant lucrative contracts and stay safe themselves if they co-operated with the Dono. All of this provided a fine network for money laundering, and it made sure that the wealthy got their much needed deliveries of cocaine. If there ever was a functioning ecosystem, this one pretty much sounded like one.
Nanda also pointed out that only the Dono would be sitting, possibly behind a big table and probably with a cigar in his hand.
‘Why are you here?’ the Dono asked pleasantly into a cloud of smoke.
‘You tell me,’ Alice countered jovially, realising that the leather jacket had been a bad idea. She was starting to sweat, and that in a room that was already heavy with smells.
The Dono smirked. ‘What do you want?’
Alice twitched her mouth. ‘I’m fine. Thank you.’
On both sides of the room, the Dono’s men shuffled their feet while the Dono puffed on his cigar with a knowing smile.
‘So, why am I here?’ Alice asked, smiling back.
‘So I can take a look at you,’ he said and relaxed his heavy body into his chair.
Alice raised an eyebrow. ‘Well, you’ve seen me. Is there anything else?’
‘You are not the first German to come to Brazil and ask for help.’
Alice grimaced.
She wasn’t sure what annoyed her more: the reference to the bloody Nazis, or the assumption that she was here to ask for help.
The Dono looked pleased with her reaction. ‘Trouble with your country’s history?’ he smirked.
‘I wouldn’t call it trouble, just disdain. As for help. I’m not here to ask for help.’
‘Right. You are here because I ordered you to come.’
‘No. I am here, because Nanda asked me to meet with you.’
‘The nurse,’ the Dono said, and there was a touch of fondness in his voice. ‘She is a good person. We owe her.’
The Dono took a puff of his cigar. ‘How much are you prepared to pay for the protection of your project?’
‘I don’t do bribes.’
The Dono burst out laughing, as did his men, some of them with a delay.
Alice got up.
The laughter stopped, guns were drawn, safety catches clicked to fire.
The picture froze.
Then the Dono laughed and shouted something in Portuguese. His men laughed too and shifted the safety catches back on.
When the laughter subsided, the Dono looked at Alice again and said jovially: ‘Ms Adler, you are not leaving already?’
‘I like a good joke. I don’t like to be the centre of one. And I’m serious about the bribes.’
‘It looks like you are,’ the Dono sneered. ‘Have you ever killed?’
The Dono seemed mildly surprised. ‘Oh?’
‘It happened in a nightmare. A long time ago.’
‘Tell me about it.’
Alice hesitated.
The nightmare must have happened some twenty years ago, but the images were still sharp in her memory. Would it be reckless to show the Dono this part of her past?
‘Tell me about it!’ the Dono demanded, and for the first time, Alice sensed his ruthless side.
Well, Jazz told her to be direct and honest, didn’t she? Yes, she did. She also said to leave recklessness outside. Only, there is quite a bit of recklessness in honesty.
A small smile appeared on Alice’s face. Even if she wanted to, she could rarely resist to be honest or to be reckless — or both.
But first things first. It was too hot. Sweat was already running down her hairline. She took off her jacket, draped it over the chair, wiped her face with her hands, and her hands on her jeans. Then she sat down and put her arms on the back of the chair again.
The Dono snorted amused. ‘Feeling better?’
‘Thank you, yes,’ Alice said with a lopsided smile.
‘Don’t make me ask again.’
Alice gave him a nod and focused, wrapping silence around herself. It wasn’t easy to ignore the men along the walls. They seemed restless. And it wasn’t easy to go back in time. But eventually, she felt calm and focused enough to let her mind drift into the past. Decades back. There she opened a door and swallowed.

book 2/1, travelling, Rio de Janeiro

book 2/1, travelling

Travelling around the world, Alice and her team build an international network for the Easy Town Project.

Travelling with them are the past, personal demons, prejudice and unwittingly the issue of sex.

Prelude, Happy Flying, San Francisco, Rio de Janeiro, Buenos Aires, South Africa, Flight to Sydney, Australia, Time off

Preview: Rio de Janeiro, day 4

Pages: 471 pages, 127k words
Format: ePub
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‘We can continue to whine about the state of the world, or we can employ our imagination and explore how to do better.’

book 2/1, travelling, Happy Flying

book 2/1, travelling, chapters 1-5

book 2, travelling is available in single chapters

book 2/1, travelling, San Francisco, chapter 1, by Charlie Alice Raya

(1) San Francisco

The journey kicks off to a bumpy start: Alice slips up, something is brewing within the travelling team, the meeting with a property mogul leaves Alice in a bad mood, and eventually Alice and Tom take a decision which is greeted with a stonewall from the travelling team.

Pages: 92 pages, 24k words
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book 2/1, travelling, chapter 2, Rio de Janeiro, book cover

(2) Rio de Janeiro

Twice in Rio, Alice has to confront dark memories. In one case, retelling a nightmare earns her some respect. In the other case, Devery is glad that no one else is listening to their conversation. Not that he disagrees, but some of Alice’s thoughts are rather dark.

Pages: 68 pages, 19k words
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book 2/1, travelling, chapter 3, Buenos Aires, book cover

(3) Buenos Aires

At first, the travelling team get something of a breather ‘just talking, sharing ideas, pondering small and big questions.’ Then a tragedy gives them a punch in the stomach, Alice struggles with some news, others scheme to sabotage the project, and Jack receives a heavy blow.

Pages: 62 pages, 16k words
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book 2/1, travelling, chapter 4, South Africa , book cover

(4) South Africa

The stay in Injaberg is marked by clashes, Alice’s jumble of thoughts on colonialism and racism, an unexpected mediator, and news that divide the travelling team. In the aftermath of an attempted coup within the travelling team, some struggle to find their footing again.

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(5) Australia

Jack recaps the first days in Sydney, and he concludes that things are looking up. The next day, he fights with a jelly cocoon, witnesses zoo talks at breakfast, Brexit talks at lunch, and a town excursion afterwards. His day ends with a lonely beer. The following day has to be better. It is – sort of.

Pages: 99 pages, 24k words
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