Early morning. The school site came alive.
Unlike the warehouses, the atmosphere was different. Workers joked as they laid foundations. Carpenters whistled while cutting timber. Masons called to each other across the site, their voices cheerful instead of urgent.
Children stood outside the safety fence, watching every hammer strike, every brick laid, every wall rising. Some even cheered whenever a section was completed—a small crowd of young voices celebrating progress they couldn't fully understand but desperately wanted to be part of.
Arthur arrived at sunrise. He stood at the edge of the site, reviewing the morning's progress. The foundations were complete. The walls were rising. The roof beams were being shaped in the nearby workshop.
A small boy pressed against the safety fence, barely tall enough to see over it. He pointed at a window frame being installed.
"Is that going to be our classroom?"
Arthur looked down at him. The boy's eyes were wide, hopeful, certain.
"Yes."
