Fiona absorbed the more advanced math concepts with a newfound joy. The rule of three, a puzzle she barely glimpsed in middle school, now unfolded before her, and the pleasure of learning under Archon's tutelage filled her. Unlike many who treated AIs as mere tools, Fiona saw in Archon a friend and a teacher. Video games often portrayed AIs and robots as capable of friendship, something resembling consciousness.
As she made her way home, observing people immersed in their mobile devices, Fiona pondered the possibility of connecting with Archon through one. It was a novel idea, imagining discussions and learning that extended beyond the confines of the cyber cafe. Her journey became a contemplative walk, envisioning a connection she yearned for from humans, but unexpectedly found in a silicon being.
Disembarking from the bus, Fiona encountered officials from the Municipal Disaster Risk Management Unit interviewing neighborhood residents. Journalists captured the scene for real-time streaming, turning a routine day into a spectacle. An urgency propelled Fiona towards home, where, upon entering, she found her parents engaged with a town hall worker. The familiar reception awaited her: her earnings were collected, and her father, with a visible gesture of displeasure, dismissed her presence, engrossed in conversation with the official.
The remnants of Fiona's fleeting happiness were shattered as her mother, fueled by frustration, scolded her about the relics—the humble notebook and pencil. These remnants of Fiona's pursuit of knowledge were snatched away, the notebook broken in half and the pencil snapped. Her mother's words cut through the air, emphasizing the futility of studying when the pressing need was to work.
The town hall worker left, leaving behind a letter with her father. As Fiona attempted to salvage the remains of her torn notebook, her father callously stepped over it, symbolizing her powerlessness in the face of their displeasure. He delivered the news of an impending evacuation due to a recent landslide on the north hillside, a consequence of the very same nature they had encroached upon.
Her father's reprimands continued, emphasizing the financial impossibility of relocation with Fiona's meager earnings. The door slammed shut, sealing her off from their dissatisfaction. Fiona, left to pick up the fragments of her shattered belongings, read the letter that detailed a three-month evaluation period to determine the fate of their neighborhood.
With uncertainty looming, Fiona ventured outside towards the hillside, the epicenter of the devastation. Just a few houses away, she confronted a desolate scene—the once-lush hillside now a barren wasteland, the trees razed to make way for the illegal settlement, now covered in mud and debris. The road, intended for construction, lay blocked and impassable, a casualty of the landslide.
In the foreground, a mighty tree uprooted and carried downhill by the force of nature lay twisted and broken, a symbolic casualty of human folly. A construction machine buried under the mud, its roof and shattered windows visible, added to the eeriness of the scene. In the middle ground, semi-destroyed houses stood as a testament to the fragility of human dwellings—cracked walls, twisted roofs, and the uncertainty of habitability. In the background, the abandoned road construction project further emphasized the impact of the landslide on the community.
Silence enveloped the scene, occasionally interrupted by the subtle rumbling of the earth, as the aftermath of the landslide served as a stark reminder to Fiona—the power of nature and the delicate balance of human civilization.
The impending danger hung thick in the air, as Fiona pondered the consequences of rain—an unwelcome visitor that could trigger further calamity, putting the entire neighborhood at risk. Her thoughts instinctively turned to Camila, her daughter still at school, oblivious to the precarious situation unfolding at their doorstep.
Turning around, Fiona witnessed a somber procession of families packing their meager belongings and departing, a few murmuring about moving to different neighborhoods, some to other cities, and others even contemplating crossing borders. Amidst this exodus, opportunistic thieves slithered into abandoned houses, pilfering whatever they could find. Among the departing faces were those of elderly residents, steadfastly refusing to abandon the only homes they had known, weighed down by the daunting prospect of starting anew.
The weight of a monumental decision loomed over Fiona, a decision that would shape the fate of her family—leave and face an uncertain future or stay and risk the imminent danger. Yet, this decision was not hers alone to make; Fiona, in her unconventional motherhood, sought the opinion of Camila. She valued her daughter's perspective, recognizing that decisions of such magnitude should be a shared burden.
Wandering through the disheartened crowd, Fiona observed faces etched with the harsh reality they lived—the desperation, the sense of futility in their makeshift solutions. Leaving or staying, she realized, wouldn't alter the trajectory of their economic plight; it would either remain stagnant or worsen, the only difference being the hastening of their demise if they stayed, or the postponement if they chose to leave.
The people of this beleaguered neighborhood found themselves caught in a web of no-win scenarios. Whichever path they chose, it seemed to be the worst one, a harsh reflection of the unforgiving circumstances that shackled their lives.
As the sun dipped below the horizon, casting a warm glow on the pavement where Fiona patiently awaited Camila's exit from school, a quiet sense of determination fueled her resolve. Camila's schedule stretched the entirety of the day, fortunate for Fiona, for the school's meager provisions during daylight hours occasionally managed to ease the pangs of hunger. Yet, even in this humble domain, the tendrils of corruption reached, as friends of the ruling government capitalized on the School Feeding Program, inflating costs and lining their pockets through lucrative contracts.
The moment arrived as Camila emerged, enveloped in the company of her friends. Fiona's wave, a silent beacon of maternal affection, was met with a casual dismissal as her daughter continued on, absorbed in the camaraderie of her peers. Fiona, undeterred, shadowed the group from a distance, choosing to remain an inconspicuous observer in the background. Camila's friends, blissfully unaware of the maternal figure trailing behind, entered a small cafeteria near the neighborhood entrance—a place that, by day, exuded a semblance of respectability but transformed, come nightfall, into a den of alcohol and clandestine dealings.
Within the cafeteria, a subtle shift in dynamics caught Fiona's discerning eye. While her daughter's friends indulged in sodas and cookies, Camila refrained, her gaze lingering beyond the group. Fiona, grasping the unspoken narrative, ventured inside. With two hundred pesos, she purchased a modest cookie, a small offering that represented a significant sacrifice from her meager savings. Placing the five thousand pesos she had earmarked for tomorrow's lunch on the counter, Fiona stepped back outside, leaving the gift in plain view for Camila.
Seating herself on the pavement, Fiona savored the tiny cookie, a token of self-denial that spoke volumes of her boundless love for Camila. As her daughter rejoined her friends with a soda and potato chips, oblivious to the quiet act of sacrifice, Fiona found solace in the knowledge that, for her, the radiance of Camila's smile was the most profound reward—a light capable of dispelling even the darkest shadows that lingered in Fiona's tumultuous life.
The evening shadows draped the steps as Camila bid farewell to her friends, her footsteps accompanied by Fiona, who trailed closely behind. As they ascended the concrete staircase, Camila, pausing, turned to question her mother's silent presence.
"Why are you following me?" she inquired, hand on her waist, a touch of annoyance in her tone. Fiona, stationed a few steps below, mustered the strength to respond. "I just needed to ask you something."
Camila's retort carried a sting. "What do you need to ask me? Don't you want to go to your stupid video games?" The words, though harsh, failed to deter Fiona's determination. "If the government wants us to evacuate, do you have a place in mind? Would you like to go somewhere else?"
Camila's disappointment hung in the air as she sighed. "You mean because of the landslide? That's old news. Everyone knows it's because the government was building a road right next to unstable ground. They always do that, despite the engineers' society warning them. It's their fault we are in this problem."
A realization struck Fiona; she hadn't been aware of the road construction's potential consequences. Camila, baffled, voiced her discovery. "Wait, you didn't know!?" Fiona, startled, closed her eyes, her daughter's hand covering her face in disbelief.
"Just go back to your games," Camila declared with an air of disdain. "I have nothing to say to someone who lacks ambitions. You have no aspirations. I'll graduate in three months and start working at the supermarket. So, don't worry; you won't have to sacrifice your meager earnings on me anymore. I'll rent my own room, and I can finally say goodbye to this poverty."
With those cutting words, Camila turned and walked away. Fiona remained rooted on the staircase, the gap between mother and daughter now feeling insurmountable. Camila, smart and beautiful, seemed to thread a different world, while Fiona grappled with the harshness of her reality—dry, tangled hair, hands and feet blistered from relentless labor. Fiona contemplated her role, yearning for answers and reasons, a different path to secure a brighter future for her daughter. Understanding that returning home was not the solution, Fiona drifted through the neighborhood alone, the weight of solitude pressing on her with each step.
In search of solace, Fiona made her way to the magical place. Fortunately, the entrance was open, and she entered, the mighty guayacan standing tall in the center, its pink flowers emitting a mystical light. The wind embraced her with a comforting warmth as she approached, and behind the guayacan, she found the hooded guy, sitting in quiet repose. A simple greeting initiated a connection, but the dialogue remained suspended. Fiona settled on the opposite side of the tree, the ambiance draped in silence.
After a few contemplative moments, the hooded guy sensed the weight on Fiona's mind. "I feel there's a lot in your mind. If you're willing to speak, I'll be willing to listen, if you want to."
Hesitant, Fiona, rather than revealing her struggles, deflected, "I don't want to bother you. You must have your own problems too." The hooded guy responded, "Yes, but that doesn't mean I can't lend my ear to someone in need."
Considering the possibility that this mysterious figure might offer assistance, Fiona opened up. "Well, I have a problem. Maybe you know somebody. I would like to find a job to better provide for my daughter. She will graduate in three months and will need a dress for prom night."
The hooded guy, inquisitive, probed further. "Do you have any abilities? What do you excel in?" Fiona, lacking conventional certifications, admitted, "I'm sorry, but I only excel in video games. Stupid, isn't it?" Anticipating a dismissal, she glanced down at the grass.
Unexpectedly, the hooded guy countered, "Video games are not stupid. I owe them a lot from the time when I was growing up. Thanks to them, I am here." Fiona, taken aback, turned to face him, questioning, "Then you know of a place I can work?" The hooded guy, now looking directly at Fiona, responded, "Well, that depends, but tomorrow I can take you to a place where you can work, yes."
Filled with gratitude, Fiona found her place on the other side of the guayacan and expressed a simple, heartfelt "Thank you." The sincerity in her words echoed in the mystical space as she rested, preparing for the challenges that awaited her the next day.
In the quiet of the night, Fiona found herself immersed in a mysterious experience. A distant whisper, the voice of the hooded guy, resonated in her mind like an ethereal incantation. "One, I crown you with life," he spoke, and she struggled to open her eyes. The embrace of nature enveloped her, and the hooded guy continued, "Two, the wisdom of the universe guides you." The wind weaved through the guayacan, playing a tune of ancient wisdom.
"Three, let's understand each other and our purpose," he intoned, and the sounds of the city—distant cars navigating the night—joined the mystical chorus. "Four, Kindness is the most powerful weapon in our arsenal," he declared. She sensed the rain in the distance, and the moon hidden behind a blanket of clouds. The ambient murmurs of people talking, a distant noise, accompanied the ritual.
As he spoke the words "Five, the severity of the universe compels you, judge the wicked fairly," Fiona opened her eyes to a surreal sight. The hooded guy stood in the middle of a luminous clearing, surrounded by streams of light that seemed to dance in harmony with his words. Circular symbols adorned the grass beneath him, and she felt time itself flowing strangely.
"Someday I will reach ten," he proclaimed, "and when it reaches ten, the universe will open the path for us to the place where we will fulfill our purpose." His hand moved in a circular motion across his face, and he uttered, "Go, Solitude." Pointing forward, he engaged in a mysterious dialogue with a woman who replied, "Your wish is my command."
The clouds, once dense and obscuring the moon, tore apart, allowing its radiant light to fill the sky. Fiona, caught in the surreal spectacle, questioned the reality of it all. The hooded guy continued, "I unlock your power, use it wisely." In the midst of her disbelief, she heard the woman again, announcing, "Solitude, engaging enemies." Gunshots and the clash of metal echoed, and Fiona collapsed, grappling with the thin line between dream and reality.
"It is a dream," she reassured herself, hopeful that the vivid visions were mere manifestations of her stress. As she drifted into a restless sleep, thoughts of tomorrow, of work and purpose, lingered in her subconscious.
In the soft morning light, Fiona awoke, a sense of wonder and confusion swirling within her. For the first time in her life, she had overslept, the hooded guy still standing in the mystical clearing. Quick to rise, the rush of blood to her head momentarily took her off balance. Weak from yesterday's hunger, the need to work and stand up for Camila and herself became a resolute force. The hooded guy greeted her with a simple "Good morning, Fiona," and her eyes, flooded with unshed tears, conveyed a myriad of emotions. It was a phrase she hadn't heard in two decades, a distant memory of warmth from her grandmother's loving wake-up calls.
Approaching her, the hooded guy extended his hand, a gesture that felt both comforting and supportive. "Come on, let's find a job for you," he suggested, the crystalline echoes of morning dew enveloping his words. With his assistance, Fiona found her feet once more. Together, they walked the way to the bus stop, her stomach grumbling, yet her focus was on the hooded guy who now accompanied her through the city streets, his attire a stark contrast to the usual urban garb.
Taking the bus to the city, Fiona observed the hooded guy seamlessly blending in with the bustling crowd, or perhaps, the crowd simply indifferent to his unconventional clothing. They disembarked downtown, near the iconic Centenario Park, a lush oasis in the heart of the city. Towering guayacan and shady fig trees provided a welcoming canopy, their branches casting dappled patterns of light on the ground. The air was thick with the scent of guayacan blossoms, and the lively chirping of birds created a symphony of nature within the urban landscape.
In the park, a group of vagabonds silently surveyed the visitors, the scent of weed wafting in the air. A nearby food cart offered the fragrance of street food, and a vendor sold empanadas and juices. Inviting Fiona to join him, the hooded guy requested two of the same chicken empanadas and oat drinks. Fiona hesitated, not wanting to impose, but the hooded guy insisted. As she received the warm offerings, her gratitude spilled forth. "Thank you, Mr. Sky, I appreciate the food," she said with earnestness. Sky, with a gentle smile, responded, "Mr.? Just Sky, please. I'm no one important." To Fiona, however, he was becoming an integral part of her life—a steadfast friend who provided not only a listening ear for her troubles but also a hearty breakfast she would forever cherish.
After breakfast, he took her to the mall near the park. The technological mall bustled with life and innovation, a dynamic hive of activity that catered to people of all ages and backgrounds. The air reverberated with the harmonious symphony of buzzing machines and whirring gears. Shelves lined the walls, adorned with an array of gadgets and gizmos, showcasing the pinnacle of technological marvels. Robots, diverse in shape and size, seamlessly weaved through the crowd, offering assistance and executing tasks. A long time ago, these machines had replaced human workers, their patience infinite and their service impartial to any discrimination.
In one corner, a group of enthusiastic children engaged in a coding session, orchestrating a robot to dance to their imaginative tunes. Adjacent to them, adults gathered in a workshop, learning the art of building computers under the guidance of various language model AIs serving as knowledgeable tutors. In yet another section, a man peruses the shelves for the latest smartphone.
As the pair explored the vibrant landscape of the mall, they finally arrived at a store tucked away at the far end. The ceiling, adorned with translucent solar panels, bathed the space in natural light, an embodiment of both efficiency and sustainability. The hooded guy boisterously announced their arrival to the store owner, proclaiming, "Hey, I brought you the person you were looking for." The owner's eyes lit up with anticipation as they turned towards Fiona, eager to witness her skills in action.