We climbed the stairs and disabled the photocells by covering the sensors with pieces of cardboard held in place with tape. In less than a minute, the car park was plunged into darkness. A small, stealthy act capable of evoking a pleasant sensation that hints at possible future acts of illegality. Today the show will take place here, in the basement of a cutting-edge sixth-form college, amidst the beams of light from the LED stalks, beyond the door bearing the sign forbidding students from entering. And yet the students will gather down here – mainly female students, in fact – and prick up their ears as their imaginations take them on a journey through sun-drenched places, in stark contrast to the darkness of the bunker that contains them. When the figure on stage turns their gaze towards them, many will look away. Mostly out of embarrassment, in other cases because they need to concentrate. Some, however, will keep their gaze fixed, eye to eye. Evidently, they possess – like certain corals – qualities that make them more resilient than others. At the next meeting, they will wonder about the reason for a torn T-shirt; they will talk of fragility and powerlessness, of the hope that the figure embodies, and of the thrill of speaking out. Will some of these students be the ones to change history?