Source A: A hundred hours in the shop window

An original contemporary non-fiction-style practice text, written for this question.

The poster said one hundred hours, because ninety-six looked like a timetable and one hundred looked like an achievement. I had suggested the number myself. For four days I would sit inside the old department store’s display window, making a single enormous paper sculpture while the town watched. The commission was intended to draw attention to the reopening. I liked the work. I also liked the idea of becoming, briefly, difficult to ignore.

There were breaks, food and a room at the back where I could sleep. This was not a promise to remain awake. Nevertheless, the window turned every departure into something which needed explanation. When I stood up, people looked at the clock. When I returned, someone usually asked how much I had done. The sculpture grew slowly, fold by fold, while the counter above my head moved with effortless speed.

By the third day, my hands were sore and I had begun making mistakes I would normally undo. Instead, I placed the damaged folds towards the rear. A child pointed one out through the glass. I smiled and waved, as if he had complimented me. My assistant suggested that we shorten the final session. I asked what the sponsors would say. She asked what my hands were saying. I found the question irritating because I knew which answer I was avoiding.

The organisers were not villains. They offered another break and said the remaining hours could be quieter. Yet the publicity had already described the finish, complete with a countdown and photographs. An event which had begun as a way of showing people how I worked was now encouraging me to work badly in order to complete its story. The sculpture was no longer the only thing being made. We were manufacturing an ending which could be announced at precisely six o’clock.

I stopped at eighty-two hours. We removed the counter and left the unfinished sculpture in the window with an explanation. Some passers-by were disappointed. One said that anyone could stop. He was right in a narrow sense; the door had never been locked. What had held me there was a promise I had mistaken for a judgement about my value.

A week later, I finished the sculpture in the studio. It took longer than the remaining eighteen hours because I replaced the folds I had hidden. The store displayed it without a clock. People still stopped to look. I could not say how many, and for once that missing number did not seem like a failure in the work.

Source B: Explorers or boys messing about? Either way, taxpayer gets rescue bill — Steven Morris

Read Source B in the official Pearson anthology (printed pages 8–9).

Compare how the writers present their ideas and perspectives about the pressures created by ambitious public challenges.

Support your answer with detailed examples from both texts, including brief quotations.