Woke World: The Wake World Series, #1

By Amanda Sibilia

Seventeen year old Stella Relucet was supposed to enter the Quantum Fields art contest and skyrocket into the Elite life, saving her family from poverty. 

 

Her dream of winning is shattered when her grandmother is scheduled for an unexpected Demise Day, the technocrat's so-called voluntary euthanasia for unproductive citizens. 

 

 After her grandmother's unfair death, she receives an inheritance gift– a crystal necklace with unexpected powers– and is told to seek out someone named Starr, Stella's life takes an unexpected turn. 

 

Furious over the technocrats' unjust laws, Stella embarks on a quest with her protective, street smart, best friend (and secret crush) Faqster to carry out her grandmother's last dying wish 

 

But the closer she gets to the truth, the more attention she's grabbing from the technocrats who want to harness the necklace's power for themselves.

 

Then she and Faqster discover a dark secret about her grandmother and the world they are living in.

 

WARNING: This intensely dark, and gripping techno-dystopia story has a life shattering family secret that will make you wonder…what if this was actually real? 

 

 

"Woke World" is a YA dystopian novel that explores the resilience of the human spirit in the face of oppression. It's a coming of age story of one girl who decides to defy the odds and take action from the power of truth.

 

Fans of "Ready Player One," "Black Mirror," and "Shatter Me" will find themselves immersed in this thrilling journey of defiance and destiny.

 

• Language: English
• Publisher: Amanda Sibilia
• Release date: Aug 31, 2023
• ISBN: 9798223321835

Book preview

Woke World

Book One of the Wake World Series

Amanda Sibilia

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Sovereign Witch Press

Copyright © 2023 by Amanda Sibilia

All rights reserved.

No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior written permission of the publisher, except as permitted by U.S. copyright law. For permission requests, contact Sovereign Witch Press at www.amandasibilia.com

The story, all names, characters, and incidents portrayed in this production are fictitious. No identification with actual persons (living or deceased), places, buildings, and products is intended or should be inferred.

Book Cover by Rachel Overhand

First edition 2023

For Brian, my magick flame,

Who illuminated my path when all seemed dark,

Who taught me how to believe in myself again,

Who helped pull each word from the depths of my imagination

And showed me through example and unwavering support

That anything is possible when your heart is set on its attainment.

This book is a testament to your enduring faith in me

And our shared vision of what I am capable of creating.

Table of Contents

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58

Author's Note to Reader

Read More

Acknowledgements

About the Author

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1

The news that the highly anticipated and revered Demise Ceremony had been advanced to an ASAP level hit Stella like a ton of bricks. In a society where an individual's worth hinged solely on their productivity, it was not surprising that Gran had been deemed expendable. However, the sudden escalation of the ceremony by the Council of Prosperity without warning left Stella feeling helpless and overwhelmed. This was Stella’s first.

Osiris, her ever-absent father, had told her the previous night, warning that Gran was the next one. The Council simply said that production levels had gone down and insisted it was for the greater good.

Wanna know what I’m gonna do with the inheritance credits we get today? chimed Ori, Stella's twelve-year-old brother, as he emerged from behind the breakfast bar. Since their arrival at Gran’s spacious, single-bedroom apartment in the middle of the night, he had been rummaging through the gray cabinets in search of snack pills to shove into his greedy little mouth to satisfy an insatiable appetite.

No thanks, Stella whispered softly. Blood credits. They’d only be proof that her favorite person was, well, gone forever. It was a forced death. The HAL Officer standing guard in the doorway, weapon in hand, was a menacing reminder of that. Was Ori cold and indifferent, or was Stella the outlier? She didn’t know if she could let the demise happen.

Transfixed by Gran's portrait displayed on the mounted smart TV, she found it hard to believe that she would never hug her again. Every beautiful laugh line, her glossy silver curls, and those soft delicate hands that had held Stella's after her many encounters with bullies were vividly present. A green gemstone pendant hung around Gran's graceful neck, but Stella couldn't recall ever seeing her wear jewelry. Once bright yellow walls of the TV room, which had previously evoked joyful childhood memories, now stirred a pang of unease and guilt. Fancy white crown molding, a remnant from their old home, seemed distant and unattainable. The only remaining piece of furniture in the room was an old brown leather couch, worn and softened by love.

What did one wear to a demise ritual? With respect for Gran, she wore the latest Elite holographic skin her closest friend Gemini had gifted her, a white snake print body con dress. It shimmered with splashes of pinks, oranges, and blues. Stella thought it elegant and tasteful, standing out as one of the rare outfits that didn't expose her butt cheeks.

No one could see the clumsy mess hidden beneath the holographic glamour. It concealed her frizzy brown hair, her mismatched blue and green eyes, or her lanky figure that boys seemed uninterested in. Stella never questioned wearing the silver bodysuit and wristband, or how they synchronized with her brain chip, because their union could revolutionize her appearance so dramatically. Not even the elite dress could alleviate her profound sadness today.

I found some expired dessert pills! Ori’s head bopped up, breaking Stella out of her trance. His brown curls spilled in front of his eyes as he shoved pills into his mouth. Want some?

She shook her head as some coated in saliva stuck to the bottom of his palm. No. Thanks. You better be careful. You’ll get sick from all those sweets you’re swallowing.

I’ll be fine. Ori stared at the left-over mangled pills. Chocolate pudding is my favorite one.

You wouldn’t want to swallow them if you remembered what the real deal tasted like. The way the silky sweet texture induced all those feel-good molecules when it hit the tongue. It had been years since their last proper meal. She doubted he remembered.

Rays of sunlight beamed in from the narrow balcony and landed as a square patch smack dab on the tv.

Her parents, Lucy and Osiris, rushed around the place, along with township workers, throwing Gran’s precious belongings into either cardboard boxes or vacuum-seal bags. They tossed the boxes into the hallway and stacked them into a row.

You can have my credits, alright? She said, careful so no one would hear.

Really?

Well, yeah. Ori ran for her at full force, squealing, sticky palms out. She shrank back and willed for him not to touch her. He stopped dead in his tracks.

She side-eyed the brown leather couch. Whenever Gran played Bach's Prelude No.1 in C, Stella loved to sink into the cushions and doodle on her tablet. The broken yet hypnotically beautiful melody inspired Stella to create her best artwork.

Relax, alright? Stella tried wiping the tears from her green and blue polychromatic eyes. You don’t have to be happy.

We’re supposed to be happy, He replied reflexively. A part of Stella repulsed over her little brother’s lust for credits. The only indication of his humanity reflected in his use of ‘supposed.’

Memories of their days stuck in the reformation center lingered. The personnel trained them to reject ‘negative’ emotions. Anger, lust, greed, jealousy—were the true culprits for poverty and crime. Banning sadness too. The C.O.P.’s first official law. Who was she to talk shit? She didn’t know how to feed the masses. She felt her mind trying to usher the muscles in her face into a smile. Just grin and bear through it all for three thousand credits to score an atomic outfit for tonight’s date with Antares. For some strange reason, the hottest surfer of Sunset Beach High wanted her, well holographic her.

Smile or I’ll tell Mom, Ori said.

Stella's insides twisted at the mere thought of their mother or the ever-vigilant HAL Officer catching a glimpse of her true feelings. Letting any hint of dissent towards C.O.P. policy slip through was like signing up for an old-school brainwashing session. Ori had a weird way of having her back, even if it meant playing by their twisted rules.

Lucy, Stella corrected. No more paternal language. Remember? That too had been banned.

Ori stood; arms crossed. Okay… fine.

A flush of heat surged to Stella's cheeks as tiny electrical signals raced through her brain chip implant. Her lips twitched, fighting against the automated expression she yearned to resist. Tears glossed over her eyes, but after a fleeting moment, she surrendered, allowing a forced smile to stretch across her face.

Happy?

Absolutely! Ori pointed two fingers at his eyes. I’ll be watching you.

Ori’s protective brother side often came with empty threats, but he meant well. At least someone had her back in their home. Not everyone was so lucky.

Stella's smile returned, this time unbidden, as she made her way toward Gran's art studio. Countless hours had been spent there, creating Stella's entry piece for the Quantum Fields digital art contest. Osiris stumbled out stacked to the gills with cardboard boxes labeled art supplies and black contractor bags with white drop cloths peeking out.

How’s it going, Stellarium? Her father’s weathered face peeked out from around the boxes. Hot tears edged Stella’s eyes. Gran’s bedroom all packed?

Almost… Stella bit the inside of her cheek.

As Osiris stumbled past Stella, a contractor bag dropped in his path. Movers are supposed to get everything after the Windfall.

Stella squeezed her eyes shut. Please don’t say it. Want some help? She hurled a bag towards the door. Afterwards she searched his face for heartache. He had always been hard to read. You alright?

Of course, sweetie. His brown eyes softened. Thanks for helping.

How is this not bothering him? His own mother up for involuntary suicide.

You good?

Fine. Stella crossed her arms, imagining ripping the boxes out of his hands and sprinting back home with them. Stella yearned to keep Gran’s art materials, the most personal items one could possess. Her paintbrushes, watercolor trays, and mixed media journals held not only sentimental value but unique fingerprints, favorite color combinations, and unfinished sketches brimming with infinite potential. Their love for art was something they had always shared. Stella knew it was selfish, but with the Quantum Fields contest only a month away, she wished Gran would be there to continue to help finesse her entry piece.

She’s lying, Ori volunteered. You can tell by the way—

Alright, Ori! Osiris snapped, his eyes fell on Stella. With a quickness, she avoided his gaze. Can’t allow the dam of tears to crack. You can tag along with me. His Adam’s apple bobbed as if he had swallowed down some hard feelings, too. I have to set these outside the door. Afterwards, we can get some fresh air.

It hadn’t dawned on her until recently, Gran had become the only working-class woman to be awarded a level thirty-three apartment. Barely anyone in the working class had windows, never mind a balcony.

Outside, an older man sat sucking on a vape mod and pretended not to stare, waiting to occupy his new home.

I don’t think so. She half smiled.

Parents, Guardians, whatever they were called now, bought the smile. A magic code for leaving her alone when her world would explode in the next breath. Osiris nodded while handing over more of Gran’s shattered pieces to uncaring township workers.

2

The next few hours dragged on like a slow death for Stella as she watched Lucy discard more of Gran’s belongings. She sat on the couch, lost in thought, while staring at Gran’s portrait. Ori's insensitive remark interrupted her thoughts, She's going to die soon, anyway. Stella felt her cheeks flush with anger but quickly bit the inside of her cheek to stifle any response. Reacting would only lead to another family credit deduction. Unlike Ori, Stella had a heart, and the thought of witnessing her grandmother's socially acceptable murder made her stomach churn. How long will we be here? Stella asked, her voice barely above a whisper.

I'd say about five more hours, Osiris replied. Why?

She half smiled while her sanity threatened to unravel. She wanted to stay back at their apartment complex, Daleth, down the street, and immerse in a much-needed distraction. Like mulling over which skin to wear to the party tonight from the safety of her bedroom. From what her friends said, Demise Days were ‘fun’, and it was ‘an enormous relief to witness family members contribute in such a selfless way.’ This was rich because elites don’t have D Days, they’re the superstars of the world who get to live their days out till the end. What did they know? A loud sniffle escaped Stella. Her eyes widened and prayed to the Universe no one heard.

Are you crying? Lucy, her mother’s voice, boomed from the art studio.

No, Stella cringed. It’s the damn bleach and all this plastic being sprayed everywhere. Making my eyes water. Why can’t they wait to prep Gran’s place later?

Time is costly.

Stella’s fine. Ori skipped to Lucy. His chocolate brown curls bounced around pill-stained cheeks. Before he could get within hugging distance, she pushed him away.

You’ll ruin my designer skin. Though her holographic image was pristine, she was a mess in real life. The real Lucy, sloppy Lucy, would have spilled out over the top of the pencil skirt. It was far too small to contain her true self. In reality, she had stringy and unbrushed hair, and when behind closed doors, clothed her body in a tattered, stained, dingy gray bodysuit. It was a true miracle that the holographic bodysuit still managed to maintain the illusion of her put-together appearance.

Aw, mom—I mean Lucy, Ori winced, all I want is a hug. He held his arms out with sweet almond pleading eyes.

Out of the question. She brushed her pseudo perfect blonde hair out of her eyes. Don’t you have a wrestling match to synch into?

No. I’m excused today. Ori’s face fell in defeat. Guess what Stella said.

Lucy shook her head. What?

I can have all her credits.

Liar! Stella’s eyes narrowed. Why did he tell her?

It’s true. He stepped back with a look of disbelief, his hand over his heart. She looked away. If Lucy knew the truth, she’d pulverize Stella.

Excuse me? Lucy stormed over to the couch.

He’s lying! Stella shot up. I want those credits to buy a new skin for the bonfire tonight.

She wondered if she could go through with it, becoming what she didn't want to be, just to climb the social ranks. It didn't seem fair to compromise her morals, but she felt like she had no choice.

You promised them to me, Stel! Ori said.

Committed to the lie, Stella ignored him. She knew Lucy couldn't resist spending credits on new skins, so it was the best way to prevent her from throwing punches.

Whatever. I have something more pressing to ask you. Lucy nodded toward the female HAL Officer, decked out in her dress blues, by the front door. We discovered Grace had a necklace worth a lot of credits. Do you know where she might have kept it? The green gemstone in Gran’s portrait.

No, I don’t know. Stella blinked twice and forced out a smile. She never wore a necklace around me. During her many visits, Gran didn’t have jewelry on, ever. The HAL officer stared back, as if ensuring no unlawful transaction took place, not without first paying credits to the C.O.P.

All the time spent together… Lucy closed her eyes. You’re telling me you’ve never seen a necklace?

Correct.

It’s here somewhere. Lucy pursed her red lips as she mulled something over. Find it and I’ll give you a reward.

Stella nodded. If I find it, I’ll let you know.

What’s the matter with you? Lucy sniffed Stella, as if she possessed an innate negative emotion detector just because she had given birth to Stella.

Nothing. Stella lowered her gaze to the floor. Lucy hated to hear excuses or ‘non-compliance,’ as she called it.

Fine. Just grab a bin and get to work. The Demise kicks off in under an hour.

As the countdown continued, it was obvious that Lucy was getting a thrill out of it. She bustled around, carelessly tossing Gran's belongings into either plastic bins or clear bags, treating them like mere trash. The homemade quilts, the cheerful oil paintings that held memories from the Old World, and even Gran's favorite books, including her cherished Book of Stars - everything that Stella held dear - were callously stacked up for auction.

Aren’t we going to keep some of this? Stella's hands cradled the oil painting of her childhood home - a grand Victorian mansion with surfboards lined along the porch. Osiris?

Excuse me? Lucy stormed over to Stella. Don’t ask him. You know better.

I’m sorry. These are the last things we have. Can we keep a few? The painting was a touchstone to the three-hundred-year-old house they lost.

Lucy smashed a mineral spirits can down onto the ground, landing inches from Stella’s feet. And where would we put it all?

I don’t know.

In case you forgot, we don’t live in a mansion anymore. There was a faint note of pain in Lucy’s voice. Stella felt a slight twinge of pity.

Point taken. Their micro-apartment wouldn’t be able to house even a quarter of it. The man on the balcony pressed his face against the glass. Alarm spread over his face as Lucy’s hand raised.

Stop standing around! Lucy held her hand, ready to swat.

As her nerves jolted, Stella's celebration skin rippled. She pressed a palm to her head, helping the government-issued black sol chip in her brain to readjust her holographic dress.

Make yourself useful and set out the appetizer pills. I splurged and got the puff pastry collection. We can’t forget it.

Did you pick them out? Stella recalled the time Lucy bought off market beef wellington pills, giving everyone diarrhea for a week.

Never missing a dig, Lucy narrowed her eyes. Go.

Yes, Lucy.

Make it snappy. Lucy handed her the small box. You don’t want to miss out on the festivities.

Stella read the label: three cheese quiche, spinach and mushroom strudel, ham, and cheese pinwheels. She couldn’t read anymore. She wanted the flaking, buttery, crisp pastry against her tongue. Her mouth watered from an experience they could no longer afford.

Call it mother’s instinct, Lucy watched Stella with a scrutinizing eye, hot for evidence. When Osiris made the big announcement last night, Stella let her guard down. Panic flashed across her face while Lucy stared.

Once you’re done with the appetizers, Lucy called out, Drag these awful paintings out to into the hallway. Lucy kicked the house painting and tipped it on its side.

In a fury, Stella dumped the pills out onto the metal serving tray. An array of synthetic flavorings and smells twisted her gut into knots. Imposters. Without caring, Stella rocketed to the paintings, grabbed the house portrait, and fumbled for the leather-bound Celestial book.

She blew past Lucy.

Where are you going?

To pack up the rest.

Before Lucy could get a word in, Stella swiped the bedroom door closed. She wished it would lock.

Her body quaked with a painful sadness as silent sobs of tears sprung out. Stella clutched her chest.

Get it together. Don’t give in. Fight it!

Lucy wanted her to be in pain, she lived for the torment. Stella held her mouth closed and forced a cycle of deep breaths through. It cleared her mind enough to figure out what of Grans she would keep. The Book of Stars flipped out of her hand and opened to a chapter titled The Celestial Adept.

3

The moment Stella stepped into Gran's bedroom, the familiar fragrance of stargazer lilies and baby's breath engulfed her, causing her stomach to twist into knots. More guilt. A queen-sized bed with a wood mahogany frame pressed against the wall. A pristine ivory quilt pulled tightly over the mattress, ruffled layers of soft pink roses embroidered atop it. Lamps stood on either side of the headboard, golden light spilling out to cast shadows against the wall.

Stella placed the painting against the wall and gently closed The Book of Stars before face planting into the plush bed. Her fingernails dug into the goose down mattress as she inhaled the last traces of Gran into her deprived lungs. She didn’t want to revisit Celestial fairytales about a false savior promised to awaken humanity. Humans, she had learned, were a sleeping giant who preferred living in the dream. Rouse them awake? Suffer the blow.

Stella sat and committed to memory the way she wanted to remember Gran’s bedroom. There had been many sleepovers of Gran reading her stories about a seventeen-year-old girl, activating the Celestial Magick trailing through her blood.

I don’t hear you packing, Lucy said through the door.

I’m checking the drawers, then the bed. Stella darted to the large cherry wood vanity to the left of the bed where she played makeover at, with real clothes. One last time she sat in the vanity’s chair. The cushion, a velvet dusty rose, was vintage as unconditional love.

Don’t forget to tag the quilt. It’ll go for a fortune at auction this weekend. Stella ran her hand along the smooth wood, enjoying how it glided along the surface.

This isn’t happening.

Except it does.

One Friday of every month of every year. To infinitum.

Think, think, think.

Stella pressed her hands into her eyes till tiny white dots danced in front. A stern-looking woman emerged, hands clutched around Gran’s neck. She was a whirlwind of strength, unceasing in her efforts as she siphoned Gran’s breath.

Breathe.

Stella inhaled a stream of air and forced it down into the belly. Every heartbeat pumped with impending doom.

Breathe.

Without letting the breath go, she took another inhale, this time into her diaphragm.

Exhale.

Her posture softened as she let out a long, deep breath. An image of rescuing Gran appeared in her mind-maybe in a dream world, it was possible. The C.O.P. had enforced strict obedience without any questioning, and nobody had openly opposed them yet. However, Gran would do so for her.

Her body relaxed as she released another slow, controlled exhale. The idea of rescuing Gran formed—in a fantasy world. No one spoke out against the C.O.P. From the start, they drilled into their heads, do as told. No questions asked. Still. Gran would do it for her. Wouldn’t she?

An unfamiliar voice floated in, ‘Speak from the heart. Show your true feelings.’

Easier said than done. Gran had been the one person Stella could get real with. Fears of judgement, ridicule or shame didn’t exist here. With everyone else, emotions were weapons of manipulation to be used against one another.

Stella laid back and shut her eyes. Reeling over what she couldn’t—or wouldn’t do. After a few more cycles of conscious circular breath work, her heart quit pounding.

The sound of twinkling bells filled Stella's ears, signaling an incoming message. Who was pinging her now? She quickly glanced at herself in the mirror, wiping away any tears and adjusting her hair. Using the advanced technology of her black sol chip, she honed in on the transmission. Suddenly, a boy with sandy blonde hair and piercing emerald eyes appeared before her, as if from another dimension.

Faqster, she said as casually as possible.

Her online friend. They met four years ago in a coffee chat room. It became friendship at first sight when he asked if she had picked her handle after Rainbow Brite’s horse. One of these days, she’d find the courage to meet in real life.

Starlight. Instant swoon in full effect. How’s it going?

It’s good, I guess. She wanted to tell him she planned to save Gran. What are you doing?

Not much. I got home from work. He twirled his hand around. And wanted to check on my favorite person. His face got serious and wouldn’t stop making eye contact. You alright?

Yeah, she said through wet eyelashes. I’m tired of helping Lucy prep all morning.

Stella jumped off the bed and paced the room. She needed to vent over how they treated Gran’s life as a door buster sale, as if it were something of little value. No one cared if she died.

The C.O.P had made their message abundantly clear - they were the ones in charge, and no one would dare stand against them. Even if it meant handing down an unjust sentence to Gran, they had their agenda set in stone and refused to tolerate any form of opposition or resistance to their power.

In desperation, Stella wiped away the tears streaming down her face. I’ve never seen you this shaken before.

I guess I expected it to not be so bad.

Stella opened the vanity’s drawers and held her breath in a silent prayer for left over relics. A perfume stopper or a tarnished compact mirror. Lucy hadn’t overlooked a thing. Empty as a bone.

Gem said Demise Days were fun. But what does she know? She’s never been to one of her own. It’s not fair! Stella pressed her lips together. Great. She said too much.

Trust me, I get it. Faqster paused as if he wanted to tell her a secret, too. What you’re experiencing is normal. Losing someone you love is the hardest thing in the world. The C.O.P. is delusional to expect us to be happy.

For a moment, she sat and absorbed his words as her guard dissolved.

None of this feels real to me. It’s like any moment I’m going to wake from the nightmare. She pinched her hand hard. Nope. Still awake.

What do you want to do?

Stella shook her head. Say it. Tell him you want to save Gran. I’m so confused, Faqs. She stood and paced some more. Everyone wants me to be cool with all this. When all I want is to rage against the system. I want to scream and cry and scream some more. I can’t lose her.

What will happen if you do?

My life will never be the same. I have no one to stand by my side and face this world with. Osiris checked out of life. He pretends to be asleep while Lucy... The pain growing as she continued to keep her mother’s abuse to herself. Ori can’t do anything; he’s not strong enough to help me fight through my pain. The world around me feels cold and empty without Gran.

You have me. His eyes went from razzle dazzle to a soft glow. Stella’s face warmed. I’ll always be here for you. No matter what.

Stella pinched the air and minimized Faqster’s view and looked under the bed. A small box sat square in the middle.

It doesn’t have to be like this, he said.

What do you mean? Stella opened the ping’s window, Faqster beamed the sunny smile she loved so much.

You’re not alone in this.

Okay, so what can we do? Demises are C.O.P. policy. ‘Mandatory’ for everyone.

Except for Elites. Such a crock of shit.

Sure, but even policies have loopholes.

Stella retrieved the box from under the bed, wrapped in cherry blossom fabric with a card tucked inside.

What is that? Faqster leaned forward.

I don’t know. She closed her eyes and held the package close to her heart. "Do you know a way to stop it?"

"Each demise is assigned three women called Angels. As if it’s supposed to be an homage to the actual angels."

Stella rolled her eyes. Angels don’t exist.

Anyway. Faqster grinned. The lead angel is in charge of everything. All ya gotta do is form a good enough reason to get her to call it off.

Stella’s eyes widened at a solution she could do. Like what? Write them an email?

Faqster shook his head. No. Right when the Demise starts, you state your case. Explain why they should spare Gran’s life.

What could I say to sway a devoted C.O.P. ally?

Why are they calling for the demise?

Her production levels are down.

Then prove she can contribute still.

If it was that easy, Gran would have tried it herself.

Demise candidates can’t champion for themselves. It needs to come from others.

How do you know this? Stella raised a brow.

Faqster shifted in his seat. I’m well versed in C.O.P. policy.

From personal experience?

Isn’t everything?

This is ludicrous. Fear laced her voice as she forced a smile. She tried to hide her fear of taking a stand against the government.

People are worth fighting for.

She needed to think. Impossible when he stared her down and met gripes with something inspirational. Fortune cookie Faqster. I never said they weren’t.

Gran was worth all the risk in the world. But to speak out against the government? Disturbing flashbacks of the reformation center crept into Stella’s mind, but she fought them back, refusing to let them control her.

If you were me, Stella said. How would you do it?

By using the Law of Three.

Stella wrinkled her nose. What?

We create everything through three things: thoughts, words, and deeds. In that order.

Can you expand on this?

Visualize what you want to make happen. Speak it with emotion. After that, take action. Without it, mental and emotional energy isn’t much.

Simple enough.

What’s the catch?

When you plea for Gran, you’ve got to put every ounce of emotion into it. Make the Angel care.

She had to conquer her fear of speaking in front of everyone and contend with her emotions, too. An impossible feat.