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The visit of acclaimed author Simon Ings to Harris Boys' Academy East Dulwich was a truly unforgettable experience for the students. 

His passion for science fiction and exceptional storytelling skills left a lasting impression on all present. Simon Ings read excerpts from his book I, Robot and shared an exclusive preview of his upcoming work, a dream come true for the students, who were thrilled to meet such an accomplished writer.

The winner of our Sci-Fi Writing Competition was chosen by Simon Ings, who was impressed by the quality of over 80 entries. Year 9 student, Victor, emerged as the winner for his story Desolation and Elation, which was a proud moment for the school. Read Victor's poem below.

The sheer volume of students' questions and rapturous applause of appreciation at the end of the visit highlights that Simon Ings' presence profoundly impacted the students and will continue to inspire them long after his departure. 

Patricia Smith, Resources Manager/Librarian

Boys gave author Simon Ings rapturous applause of appreciation during his visit to our academy.

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Desolation and Elation, by Victor, Year 9

‘All-nighter this time,’ proclaimed The Boss. A deep, quiet groan slithered across the factory. Despite this bothersome news, I continued working as usual. In the stiff silence, I couldn't help but notice the grating, monotonous buzz and whirring of the factory with the depressing, hanging aroma of body odour blended with insect deterrent. The air hung heavy and stifling, palpable and saturated with warmth. A buzz from the yellow light distracted me. It was a terrible workplace.

But I was happy.

'What a drag, right?' I said to the man next to me. I waited for a reply, perhaps a clever remark - or a lethargic affirmation. I thought it would help to make a friend in such a bleak place. I got nothing back. '*Ahem*' I coughed to grab his attention; perhaps he hadn't heard me - he looked like an old man - after all. 'I said, it's a bit of a bore, right?' The man effortlessly pretended to ignore me. It had only been my first day here, yet I was starting to build a picture of this place in my head. Eye contact was a misdemeanour, conversation, a crime. Positivity was shunned, and sociability was felonious. In this abyss, I found most's priority to fit in - rather than the pursuit of happiness and fulfilment I was expecting. Abashed - but not deterred - I stared straight ahead and continued working.

During mentally depriving intermissions, I relished reminiscing about the better world I saw in my youth—a fleeting view above a bustling city teeming with towers, shops, monuments, people, and smiles, so many smiles. I expanded upon this utopia, characterised it, and empathised with it. Hell, I lived it, and it goes something like this.

'Work's off early!' Rejoiced Sarah, our manager. The subtle celebrations, the fist pumps, the woos and high-fives spread their way across our spacious room. I remained indifferent to these good tidings and continued my work as usual. The office regained its composed, luxurious atmosphere. I took time to indulge in the fragrant smell of exotic wildflowers. The euphony of metal-tipped high heels clicking against marble flooring, the soft hums of computers and the clattering sound of mechanical keyboards captivated my senses. A clear, white light and a constant, crisp gust of wind optimised my attention and focus. It was the perfect work environment.

And it made me sad.

'Lovely to go home early, isn't it?' said a young man amongst a low buzz of voices. I ignored his social advance, still immersed in deep thought. He interrupted again: 'Yeah, this happens every other day though... as you'll learn in a few weeks on the job.' Still unentertained and now bothered, I promptly got back to work. I hated this place. Chat was obligatory, connection praised. Positivity was an expectation, sociability acclaimed. It was a manufactured cesspool of happiness and fulfilment.

It was in the mindless pockets of life like this I often recalled the events of that day. A glimpse into a world below, with mines and factories and dust, blood, sweat, and tears. It was hell. I imagined what it was, why it was there. I might as well have been there. And it went something like this.

By Victor, 9B-ENB