It's a no from me - Simon Cowell

Social anarchism: the belief that a perfect society can be built out of simply equality, community, and mutual aid. **Bill Davison** had lived by that belief - by Goldman and Most and Kropotkin - for almost thirty years now; when he'd first come across a copy of Bakunin's *God and the State* in the university library, as a tender yet somehow jagged nineteen year old. Twenty nine years later, here he was, staring at living proof of that concept.

Formally, they were the Westminster School Book Club, a title that would carry some significant weight if it weren't for the group's membership. That was where the informal title came in, the name given to them by every student and almost every member of staff: the Outsiders Club. Bill didn't approve of the name himself, but he couldn't help but to agree when **Anika Kamdar** (known to most as Doc) suggested that they choose S. E. Hinton's Outsiders as their first recorded talk subject. Emphasis on the word "recorded", as in the past six months they hadn't discussed a single book.

He knew that it was unlike a Christian school - especially one as prolific and posh as Westminster - to have a nominally antitheist organisation; but a school like this attracted some of the finest teachers in the country, and he struggled to believe that they all wished to pay daily tribute to some all-powerful imaginary friend. Of course, the other teachers looked down on it, and some students' parents tried to shut it down; but **Dr Lawson**, their *beloved* headmaster, was rather keen to keep his affair with the Head of Mathematics out of the press.

When Anika had first suggested the club to him, Bill had thought it was ludicrous; he didn't think that any rich kid would want to associate with the sort of rebellious thought that might deprive them of future Bullingdon membership; but she'd quickly reminded him that there weren't just rich kids at Westminster. There were the charity cases too.

These kids had flocked to him like hippies to a protest; him and Anika and good old **Jim Bentley**. They weren't the students you'd imagine seeing at Westminster, but rather the kids who'd been lucky enough to grab a scholarship handed out with pity. His Book Club was made of orphans, abuse victims, and Jim's rebellious granddaughter; with the added touch of **Steve Taylor** and his young protege, a lad with an athletics scholarship named **Carson Monroe**. They just wanted to get out of the mandatory church services to do more training, but Bill still found that to be a much more worthwhile activity.

He'd been sceptical at first, thinking that a group dedicated to debating and free thought would never take off while the rest of the school knelt in prayer just a few hundred metres away; but it did. He'd underestimated the effect that a destroyed childhood could have on a young person's belief in a benevolent overlord. All these kids had a story to tell, far more interesting and personal than he could ever have imagined; and they'd agreed early on to take it in turns to share them.

Jim went first, him and his granddaughter **Claire**, to set the mood. When his son and daughter-in-law had eloped and left Claire in his hands, he'd taken it into his stride and raised her with just as much enthusiasm and love as her parents ever could have done. Of course, Bill had known the story for all of the past twelve years now, but it was the reactions from the rest of the group that surprised him. Never had he seen a group of more empathetic individuals in all his life. He knew that these kids could've made a far more moral attempt at government than Labour and the Tories could ever have dreamed of.

The next one to go was Anika, aka Doc, once a working class girl from Birmingham who defied expectations; and now a successful teacher with three doctorates (Philosophy, Arts and Education) and a three-legged pet cat. It was a far different story to the one the previous week, and even more different than what was to come later, but both Bill and the students had thoroughly enjoyed listening to Doc's tale of overcoming the system.

What was revealed in the following weeks were some of the most haunting stories he'd ever heard in his life.

**Lance Taylor** was the next one to go, and Bill appreciated his volunteering, especially since he had an air of maturity about him. The group sat and listened, in patience and awe, as he told them of hiding in a closet while his parents were murdered in the next room. To say that was a shock was...well, an understatement. After that, a rule had been put in place: what happens at Book Club, stays at Book Club.

Carson and Steve both offered to speak the following week, obviously wanting to contribute before they buggered off down to the gym for the rest of the session. The former was lifted from a children's home to glory after he won a silver medal at the Youth Olympics, while the latter had struggled to hold onto both jobs and girlfriends for the majority of his adult life. Steve had also muttered something about Wimbledon, but Bill had felt as though prying would do more harm than help.

After that brief moment of lightheartedness, it was back to misery once again. They'd learned that **Maxine Crayton** was a rape survivor, having only escaped that life due to the fortunate murder of her abuser, none other than her older brother Robert. She wouldn't let her little sister **Rachel** say a word. Then the Smith twins, **Anton** and **Caitlin**, spoke up; having been fostered by a pair of gay soap actors that no one had heard of as a publicity attempt and then promptly dumped in a boarding school when it failed. After hearing these tales, Bill had no reason to wonder why these kids didn't believe in a deity. After all, what loving overlord would let them suffer in that way.

The only refusal to talk had been a about two months in, sadly being from the member whom Bill found to be by far the most intriguing. Her uncle was on the news a few years back, his name began with a B, it might've been Bob or Brad or even Bill; but she wouldn't even confirm the widely reported story that the man, B, had spent all fifty eight million pounds of his lottery winnings on bunkers and end of the world stuff. She wouldn't answer anything, not even when asked about those coppers who had fetched her out of school six months before; shortly after she'd ran away for a few days. According to Jim, her uncle was forced to "donate" a handsome amount of his fortune to the school in order to prevent her expulsion, and a somewhat neater sum to that corrupt bastard Lawson's back pocket.

The others had pressed her, and in fact, so had Bill and the other teachers. They'd told her that it wasn't fair, after the others had all laid themselves bare, but she wouldn't budge. In fact, the week after, she'd started joining Carson for his extra training session with Steve. But that was the thing about **Lilly Mason**, you couldn't pin her down.

The stories had died after that, conversation moving on to more serious things. Anika had wanted the group to be based around theological debate, but they'd soon figured out that any debate of that kind would be rather one-sided; more of a rant than anything else. So instead, they'd moved on to discussions of all sorts. They'd sit and chat, each with a glass of rose wine that could've easily landed Bill in prison if Lawson had found out. Well, not really, they still had the pictures of him boning Mrs Nasmith during lunch break. Ah, blackmail was a beautiful thing.

Their society was exactly what Bill wanted for the rest of the country, based on the principals that he and Bakunin alike so heavily cherished. Equality, community, and mutual aid were the cornerstones of their group. Each week he'd hear stories about Maxine helping Anton with his physics coursework or Claire defending Rachel from some bullies in PE; as well as the obsession Lilly had with the new English teacher's arse. These were little things, microscopic things, but things of a sort that Bill adored.

So this week, he had an offer for them; an offer in the form of a new book. They could be his study, of course remaining anonymous to protect their identities, and in return the profit would be split between all twelve members; even Steve, Carson and Lilly - who'd already left for a bout of jogging. In all honesty, he wasn't sure what they'd say; he was just hoping for the best. Regardless of whatever happened - regardless of the riots in the news and all that talk of an epidemic - he'd always have his little corner of anarchy.

Wouldn't he?