After another long day of working, Fiona practically skips to the cyber cafe. A rare smile graces her face, a fleeting celebration of another day's hard work. In the labyrinth of streets, she's like a phantom, unseen and unnoticed. The people who catch a glimpse of her might assume the worst—a thief, perhaps. But Fiona knows the value of honest labor, and video games have taught her the joy of earning, not just money, but the genuine happiness reflected in her daughter's eyes.
Entering the cyber cafe, she catches her breath and heads straight to the owner. In the midst of animated kids and teenagers engrossed in games, there's an unspoken camaraderie. Though not friends in the traditional sense, Fiona is a fellow gamer—the 'old lady' in their playful banter. It's a title she wears proudly, a nod to her grandma and a badge of honor among these young enthusiasts.
Today is different. Today, Fiona will ask for a job from the owner and play a game she's been saving for a special moment. A game known to only a handful of players who have navigated its psychologically intricate landscape. It delves into themes of darkness and light, good and evil—a journey that mirrors her own struggle against fate. The poster hanging in her cubicle features a noble knight, his image carefully preserved. A knight fighting against the encroaching darkness, corrupted by it, yet still holding on to his nobility.
The knight is a symbol, much like the Guecha warriors she admires. Symbols of hope and resistance, facing insurmountable odds with unwavering resolve. Fiona senses that she's matured enough to grasp the deeper layers of the game, to understand the knight's internal battle. She's heard tales of his struggles, and the anticipation fills her as she thinks of facing her own inner demons alongside him.
With a trepidation fueled by determination, Fiona embarks on a quest to meet the powerful knight—the Abyss Guardian. The poster, a beacon of inspiration, urges her to keep fighting against fate. No matter how many game overs she encounters, no matter how many days it takes, Fiona is determined to reach him and learn how to rekindle hope in her heart, just as the game aims to rekindle the fire within its players.
The owner contemplates the job request with a hint of a smile, promising to get back to her. He shares ownership with a partner who handles the morning shift. As he wraps up the conversation with a casual "What are you going to play today?" Fiona responds with a smile, "I want to play the game on the poster in the cubicle I usually use, please."
Her request surprises the owner; Fiona, known for her preference for colorful and emotional games, is now seeking something dark and intense. She walks to her familiar cubicle, gazing at the poster and the screen displaying the title against a black backdrop. With a sense of reverence, she picks up the controller, a gesture akin to drawing a sword before a duel.
Creating a character resembling herself, she opts for the vagabond background, a reflection of her current state. Although unfamiliar with the game, she selects the binoculars as her starting gift, intending to use them to observe the marvelous landscapes this game promises. The adventure begins with a cinematic featuring the Original Flame—a towering inferno radiating a pure white light, the source of all life. Yet, the flame is fading, the light dimming, and the once pure fire darkening.
In this visual symphony, the inhabitants of the game world come to life—the undead, the dragons, the demons, and the godlords of the ashes. Groaning undead wander aimlessly, dragons soar through the sky breathing fire, and demons, twisted and grotesque, hunger for human flesh. The cinematic crescendos with her player character, the Marked Undead.
As the narrative unfolds, Fiona feels a surge of excitement. Eager to immerse herself in a game that promises to test her will like never before, she embraces the challenge, ready to navigate the depths of this digital realm and confront her own metaphorical flames.
In the digital realm, she embarks on her journey armed with a broken sword, a reflection of her own shattered dreams. The prison she navigates mirrors the oppressive darkness within, with sporadic torches offering scarce illumination. Shadows dance and flicker, evoking a sense of unease and dread. In this desolate place, the only sounds are the groans of the undead and a distant bell tolling ominously.
As she treads through the labyrinthine halls, the undead lurk in the shadows, relentless in their attacks. "This game is set to nightmare difficulty," she muses, embracing the challenge with a determined smile. Defeat becomes a familiar companion against the weakest mobs, yet she perseveres. Finally, she reaches the heart of the prison—a large chamber with a bonfire at its center.
A bell, perched atop the chamber, tolls slowly and incessantly, its haunting echo reverberating throughout the prison and beyond. The mournful sound serves as a poignant reminder of the fate that befalls the trapped undead. The Undead Prison, like her neighborhood, is a realm where hope is lost, and dreams are shattered.
Seated by the bonfire, mirroring her in-game character, she gazes at the poster and touches it with her left hand, drawing strength from its symbolic presence. The journey has just begun, and the challenges are formidable. Yet, with a resilient spirit, she faces the darkness, determined to emerge victorious, much like the struggles she confronts in her own life.
In the decaying halls of the Undead Prison, her character rises, embarking on a thorough exploration of the forsaken place. The air reeks of decay, and the only apparent route leads through large wooden doors. As she pushes them open, a vast hall reveals itself, complete with a balcony above and another set of doors on the opposite side. Proceeding cautiously, she nears the doors, only to be startled as a colossal monster crashes down, blocking her escape.
Jumping in her seat, fear grips her, and she instinctively tries to retreat to the safety of the bonfire. However, the doors seal shut, leaving her no option but to face the towering boss. Armed with only a broken sword and clad in meager rags resembling a loincloth, she confronts the monster. Trembling hands clutch the controller, and her focus narrows to the screen. Yet, her reflexes, weathered by time, cannot match the agility of younger gamers.
Determined to face the colossal adversary, she engages in the battle, but with a single swing, the monster defeats her, casting her back to the bonfire. Placing the trembling controller on the desk, she contemplates, "How am I going to defeat it, let alone face this thing?" Crossing her arms, she leans back in her seat, gazing upward. Her broken sword inflicts minimal damage, and she lacks the means to withstand the looming attacks. Every attempt ends in defeat, yet she persists, trying again and again.
As two hours pass, the owner calls out. She must leave, as her time and money are spent. Reluctantly, she accepts defeat for now, knowing she needs to return home and deliver her hard-earned wages. Yet, a glimmer of determination remains, a resolve to save for her own PC—one that holds the promise of a future where she can embark on her digital adventures and her daughter can study comfortably.
As the last rays of sunlight fade, Fiona finds herself on the bus stop. Here, the cold reality of discrimination replaces the camaraderie she experiences at the cyber cafe. Ideologies, politics, and beliefs collide in the battleground of the real world, a place where no one emerges as the victor. Only the rich and powerful seem to savor victories, while the struggling population contends to survive each passing day.
Observing the tired salary men and women around her, Fiona imagines their stories—tales of triumphs and defeats. In her eyes, these workers are the modern-day warriors, sacrificing their happiness to secure a better future for their children. Climbing onto the bus last, she stands in the midst of weary passengers, clutching the metal tubes meant to offer a semblance of security.
Despite glimpses of technologically advanced cities online, Bucaramanga's transport system still lags behind. The bus journey home is lengthy, traversing the city where people, immersed in their cell phone screens, are disconnected from each other. Fiona, unable to afford one, contemplates the unnecessary nature of such a device for someone like her. Her family's prophecy echoes in her mind, asserting that even if she had one, her contact list would remain empty.
The memories of walking her daughter to school, hand in hand, talking about their day, feel like distant echoes. Now, her daughter, a teenager, seeks independence. As the bus empties, Fiona remains, sitting alone against the window, observing the city lights that seem to flicker with purposelessness.
Upon entering her neighborhood, the last stop, decay and shattered dreams permeate the air, resembling the Undead Prison in the game. When the bus stops, darkness engulfs Fiona. A feeling of being observed causes her to quicken her pace, yearning to reach home. Suddenly, an assailant grabs her arm, demanding everything she has. Terrified, she insists she has nothing. The thief pushes her to the side, kicks her, and runs away after taking the little money she intended to save.
Defeated and bruised, Fiona looks up at the blurry sky, reminiscent of the twinkling lights in the game. Slowly, she rises and heads home, where her mother awaits. With arms crossed, her mother takes the money without acknowledging her bruises or tears. A disappointed reprimand follows, "Just twenty-five thousand?" A slap and accusations ensue. Fiona, humble and honest, admits to playing games. Angry words of no food and wasted money echo as her mother retreats indoors, leaving Fiona alone on the dark doorstep, sobbing in silent defeat.
As Fiona struggles to calm herself, the pain of her battles still festers within, particularly in the battleground of her heart. The door to her home is closed, locked and sealed against her. Trembling, she hears the distant voices of her family inside, mocking her, while her mother criticizes her perceived lack of responsibility. The desire to knock on the door surges within her, but she refrains. Instead, she steps back and retreats, feeling the coldness and darkness of the night envelop her.
Alone, cut off from familial warmth, she walks to the highway, fearing the worst—that she is incapable of doing what everyone else seemingly can. In the quiet of the night, with the houses illuminated but deserted streets, she contemplates her solitude. "Being with family is more fun than being by myself," she muses. She walks aimlessly, her doubts echoing in her mind. "Is there someone just for me? Does such a person exist?"
After a long, directionless journey, she finds herself in a magical clearing surrounded by greenery—bushes, flowers, and ethereal fireflies dancing in the night. Tall guayacan trees with pink flowers stand strong, offering a surreal escape from her harsh reality. As if out of a video game, this place beckons her. She sits beneath a guayacan, its sturdy branches not pushing her away, and the wind, warm unlike the coldness of her neighborhood, caresses her.
The guayacan showers her with pink petals, creating a spectacle exclusive to her. Looking up, she marvels at the Milky Way, a canvas of stars. Despite her humble education, she recognizes some constellations, feeling insignificant yet pondering, "If the stars are like our souls, then can I be as luminous and radiant as one of them?"
Drawing from the lessons of video games, Fiona keeps a tiny reservoir of hope deep within, regardless of catastrophes or heartbreaks. Lying down beneath the guayacan, exhausted and refusing to accept defeat, she closes her eyes and surrenders to a peaceful slumber. Here, in this magical sanctuary, perhaps she will find the strength to face the tomorrow that is just a few hours away.
As the sun begins its ascent, casting a warm glow on the still-waking world, Fiona awakens in the midst of a serene, magical place. The dew-kissed grass and the cool, crisp breeze greet her. Amidst this tranquility, a lone dandelion stands tall. Its petals, adorned with dew, shimmer in the sunlight. The yellow center of the dandelion radiates like a beacon. Though a humble flower, the dandelion symbolizes resilience and hope, thriving even in the harshest conditions, its seeds capable of traveling far and wide. Nature seems to convey a message of perseverance to Fiona.
Silently, Fiona rises, reaching out to touch the guayacan, thanking it for sheltering her through the night from both the world and the gentle night rain. Slowly, she ascends the concrete steps, stealing a glance back at the mighty guayacan in the heart of this otherworldly sanctuary. Perhaps, it could be a haven for her—a retreat from the struggles of everyday life. She vows to remember the entrance, promising herself to return.
Her stomach protests loudly, a fiery beast craving sustenance. Fiona heads to her grandma's place. Upon reaching, she greets the nurses and retrieves her grandma's medications from her pocket. Inside, she finds her grandma relishing a breakfast far superior to Fiona's usual fare—a hot beverage made of chocolate, a piece of bread, and a tiny triangle of cheese. Fiona, willing her stomach to remain silent, sits beside the bed and shares her tale of starting the game her grandma mentioned years ago—a classic masterpiece in this day and age. Her grandma, sipping slowly and not touching the cheese, waits attentively for Fiona to finish her story.
As Fiona wraps up, her grandma pushes the cup and the untouched piece of cheese toward her. "Eat, Fiona Maia. You need it more than me," she insists. Fiona, knowing the serious tone when her grandma employs her full name, reluctantly eats the cheese and sips the blessed chocolate. The humble piece of cheese becomes a divine source of strength, quelling her hunger. It will sustain her for today. Fiona smiles, kisses her grandma on the forehead, and steps back into the real world, where her struggles persist but where she now carries the resilience and hope of the dandelion and the warmth of her grandmother's care.
Today's plan unfolds with a different market in mind, one at the other side of the city, where Fiona hopes to secure a humble cart to sell avocados or mangos across Bucaramanga. The Rosita market place, with its bustling atmosphere and middle-class patrons, becomes her destination. She seeks out an old couple whom she often assists in supplying their stand. As she approaches, the couple greets her warmly, asking for her help in stocking their store. Fiona gladly obliges, arranging the vegetables meticulously, making them appear freshly harvested.
The old man struggles to stand, and Fiona, with kindness, aids him and offers her arm for support. Today, however, he insists that she ventures alone, pointing towards a box of mangoes priced at five thousand pesos for the larger ones and two thousand for the smaller ones. She nods in agreement and starts preparing the cart. Cleaning it thoroughly with soap and water, she ensures the platform is spotless. Afterward, she delicately sets up the umbrella to shield the mangoes from the sun. Pushing the cart uphill on the avenue La Rosita, she contemplates the transformation of what used to be a tiny river into a thoroughfare traversing the city from east to west.
With the sun scorching her skin and beads of sweat forming, Fiona pushes the cart, her thoughts centered on her daughter. She reaches San Pio Park, an oasis in the midst of the city. Lush greenery, tall trees, students bustling to nearby schools, and people of various backgrounds enjoying the space surrounding her. Bikers, a recognized alternative to traditional taxis, weave through the park. Setting up her mango stand, Fiona spends the day selling the fruit. The city's residents favor it, enjoying it with salt, lemon, or even pepper. When the sun begins its descent, she readies herself to return the cart to the market.
Descending the avenue is easier, the weight of the cart less of a burden. Back at the market, the old couple counts the earnings and surprises Fiona with thirty-five thousand pesos, more than she expected. Puzzled, she looks at them, and they respond, "You did a good job as always, go play a little before going back home." Grateful, she smiles and runs off, eager to reach the cyber cafe, a sanctuary where she can momentarily escape the harshness of reality and immerse herself in the world of video games.
As the day draws to a close, Fiona arrives at the cyber cafe, the urgency to return home before nightfall pressing upon her. The owner greets her with good news—she can work on Sundays, earning thirty thousand pesos for the day, but the catch is an early 6 am start. Undeterred, she agrees, her commitment unwavering. Eager to immerse herself in the virtual world, she requests the game.
The owner prepares her cubicle, and as she steps inside, she notices the new headphones—a pleasant surprise. The scent of fresh leather and plastic envelops her as they mold snugly to her head. The crisp sound quality reveals layers of detail—the wind whispering through the decayed walls of the Undead Prison. Today promises a new experience.
She takes her time, savoring the sounds of the prison—crumbling walls, distant footsteps, the ethereal tolling of the bell, the mystical rustling of the wind, the distant groans of the undead, and the menacing growls of the boss lurking behind massive walls, awaiting her challenge. A pang of sadness crosses her face as she contemplates the brilliance of the game's designer. How did he capture the essence of her neighborhood so accurately? His talent strikes her, almost like an indirect message, a reminder never to surrender.
Her eyes fixed on the screen, the dilapidated walls of the prison come to life. Debris and trash clutter the paths, mirroring the state of her neighborhood. Yet, amid the decay, she discerns a subtle beauty. Snow-covered walls and overgrown ivies infuse a sense of mystery and wonder, beckoning her to explore beyond the confines of the prison.
Fiona closes her eyes, taking a deep breath. "Thank you, Mr. Miyazaki," she whispers to herself. "Thank you for creating this game."