International Day of Peace

by Jeff Segal

Belinda has lived in New York all her life, but today is the first time she’s ever been to the United Nations. She and the rest of the kids are excited and a little bit intimidated. They don’t know a lot about history, but they can sense the importance of the colossal building before they even enter. This was where people met to make peace, back when there used to be wars.

A giant banner hangs over the entrance, yellow and white with bold blue letters. Belinda has only just learned to read, but in a few seconds she is able to make out the banner’s proclamation: INTERNATIONAL DAY OF PEACE

The lobby is so crowded Belinda has to squirm in between her friends so she doesn’t get separated. “See over there?” says Lily, indicating an idle bank of hulking machines behind a steel and glass barricade. “They used to inspect everyone who came in to make sure they weren’t carrying bombs.”

“Why would anyone bring a bomb here?” asks Belinda. “Why would they want to hurt people who were trying to make peace?”

Lily nibbles on a piece of carrot. “Who knows? People used to do a lot of strange things.”

Their group follows the throng into a vast room, bigger than any Belinda has ever seen. The General Assembly. She imagines the most important people in the world debating in every human language; pictures one leader after another stepping to the front of the podium, outlining their visionary plans to banish war forever.

Today, of course, the assembly isn’t meeting. Instead, kids like her swarm everywhere, exploring the tiers and tiers of desks, playing with the microphones, racing each other up and down the carpeted aisles.

Belinda is so overwhelmed by the scene it’s a minute or two before she notices the Others.

They keep to themselves along the top tiers of the auditorium, babbling quietly in their indecipherable language. They are so strange, Belinda thinks, so different from us. They look different, sound different, even smell different. Then she remembers what her parents have always told her—no matter how different the Others are, they eat what we eat, breathe the same air, and want their children to be safe, just like us. The city has plenty of room for everyone, as long as we live in peace.

Just then, some inaudible signal triggers an explosion of activity from the Others. They launch into the air as one, a cyclone of grey and white wings, whirling and churning their way to the ragged hole in the ceiling of the cavernous chamber. A few seconds later they’re gone.

Belinda stares a second longer at the sky blue crevice. I’ll never understand pigeons, she thinks, but then again, they probably say the same thing about us rats. Then she scurries over the railing to join her friends scrounging the floor of the United Nations.

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