You accept the leaflet, and wave your hand in a condescending salute to the sister of Belichology. You follow Isaac past the square, and recycle the paper in the appropriate container. A yellow armored with a pattern of thick black stripes, whose mobility depended on caterpillar legs, picks up the garbage cans with his tongs to carry away the waste.
The street is going uphill. From the windows and cornices of the apartments, flutter the flags of Venezuela and the Alliance. The first is of three colors each with its own meaning, yellow (Wealth), blue (Sea), and red (Blood spilled to care for and protect it), with the blue occupied by at least a dozen white stars, each representing a portion of the territory; The second holds a golden globe (World Wealth), flanked by ears of grain (Food delivered by Mother Earth), on a red background (Still more blood).
For the patriots, sacrifice seems a common theme.
Arrive at the grounds of the great university, with its campuses separated from the street by ten-meter walls patrolled by police.... The arm of the law always breathes in your ear.
Four metal gates serve as entrances and exits, each one destined to a sector of the campus: primary, secondary, university, and the last one is exclusively for the professors and workers of the Alma Mater. The third and last sectors of the aforementioned are the only ones free to wear uniforms, an achievement achieved thanks to more than a decade of dialectic struggle against the Military Junta and the conservative sectors of society.
The passage between the gates is free, and there are no documented cases of fools breaking in without permission and for fun. The security and civil rectitude in Venezuela is proportional to the fear and trust towards its government.
"Who wouldn't accept a couple of freedoms less in exchange for everything working?" Isaac questions. Know he always liked to swim with the current. "Have to be realistic about these things, brother"
They follow the concrete path. The titan waits to swallow them with its reinforced concrete maw. Wide, Babylonian, to have it on top of you is distressing. Attending such a fortress puts a unique weight on education. Now you understand why there are children crying on the level campuses of separate slabs below.
You hear screams.
"Get on, you fucking faggot!"
"Not in the face!"
On one side of the ramp leading up to the entrance, a scrawny blond boy lies on the grass, surrounded by a quartet of taller, stockier young men, all in brown shirts and blue pants. They wear the insignia of the youth of Perejimenizta. With truncheons they beat the young man mercilessly, and the only thing he can do to defend himself is to cover his arms and shout.
"This will teach you not to wear tight jeans!"
"The world is free and so is fashion!"
"World fre-? Tsk! You don't learn!"
The one who seems to be the leader of the quartet is the one waving his baton most fiercely. The rest of the students watch, but no one interferes. To the guards on the wall it is as if nothing unusual is happening. The choker and the colorful jacket that the scrawny man wears increase the number of blows to be received.
"Let's go on" says Isaac.
Intervene (Scene 8)
Enter the university (Scene 9)