Bang—
Lopera: Did you hear that?
Rodrygo: What?
Lopera: A gunshot. But with all the reverberation from these trees, it's impossible to tell from where, or how far.
Rodrygo: Don't look at me. I'm just an ordinary human, and an old one at that. My hearing isn't so sharp.
Rodrygo: But gunshots are not uncommon here. It's always been like this, and it's only gotten worse since the Apostles Brotherhood arrived.
Rodrygo: This is what makes life on the shore so unbearable, and why I escape to the water.
Lopera: Yeah. And, how is life on the water, capitán?
The old man looks away, back to the river.
Rodrygo: Before I came to São Paulo, I knew a man. Older even than I am now.
Rodrygo: He lived beside a wide river, running a simple business. Honest his whole life, beloved by his wife and son.
Rodrygo: Then one day, he became another person, just like that, as if his mind switched with a flash of lightning.
Rodrygo: He went out and made a boat out of mimosa wood—the hard kind that never rots even in a hundred years.
Rodrygo: The day he finished it, he took that boat out and never went ashore again. The day I moved to São Paulo, he was still there, floating on the water.
Lopera: You're full of it, Rodrygo. You could at least try to make your stories sound real.
Rodrygo: Well, it's realistic enough in my eyes. To me, it's the rest of the world that feels like make-believe.
Rodrygo: Maybe he was just fed up with life and decided to leave it all behind. Maybe he didn't want to deal with the troubles of the land.
Rodrygo: I've thought of doing the same myself, but I can't quite give it all up just yet.
The man shakes his head, giving the story a strange and abrupt ending.
Rodrygo: This isn't the time to reflect on old stories. We must find Sandro soon.
Bang—
A distant, almost unreal gunshot echoes through the rainforest.
Lopera: Again?
Rodrygo: I heard it too, this time. That gun ... The caliber sounds like the same gun that Sandro carries.
Rodrygo: We should hurry. He might be in danger.
GAMEPLAY
A small black pellet, like a pepper kernel. Lopera holds it between her index finger and thumb, raising it up to her eye.
Rodrygo: See anything?
Lopera: Looks like a little pill. Only way we'll know what it does is if we try it.
Rodrygo: I wouldn't recommend that. I had a cat once. It died from eating something it shouldn't have.
Lopera: I'm not a cat.
She pops the little "pepper kernel" into her mouth.
Rodrygo: Wait! Don't do that! Spit that out!
Lopera: Don't worry. I've got this.
She crushes the mysterious pill between her molars. The reckless amateur alchemist's face contorts like a tourist biting into a fried ant for the first time.
Lopera: Que bizarro ... This taste, it's like little needles pricking my nose. Oh ...
Lopera: The smell is all up in my nose. I can't seem to swallow it.
Lopera: And I feel a little ... dizzy ...
Rodrygo: ...?
Lopera: Rodrygo, why do you look so different?
Rodrygo: ...? ...!!!
...
Lopera: ...?
Lopera: Where am I?
Father: You can't go out, Lopera.
Lopera: ...?!
Lopera: Papa?
Lopera: Why would I go out? Oh, right, I was going to the carnival.
Lopera: Please, I'm only going to the carnival!
Father: It's not safe outside.
Lopera: But Nydia and Laura have already been to the carnival, and they said it was safe.
Father: They didn't invite you, did they?
Lopera: I-I don't know why! I wanted to join them there to see if we can clear up whatever's bugging them.
Lopera: Nothing bad is going to happen there, Papa. There are police there, and I'm old enough to go now. Please, we could go together.
Father: I said you can't go, Lopera! You are not to go to that carnival!
Lopera: Never? Why?!
Father: Don't question me on this. You are my daughter. You will obey.
Father: Isn't this manor large enough for you to wreak havoc in?!
Lopera: There's nothing to do here! I want to go out.
Lopera: What are you doing?
Lopera: No! Please, don't lock me in!
Lopera: No!!
...
Rodrygo: Lopera, listen to me! Stop!
Lopera: —!
The two of them wrestle on the riverbank, but one has a clear advantage in strength.
Lopera: What's going on?
Rodrygo: Thank God! You almost killed me, little birdie. That's what's going on. Luckily, you snapped out of it.
Rodrygo: You need to stop eating just any old thing that pops out of that cauldron.
Rodrygo: Come. I'll take you to Sandro. Now have some water first.
GAMEPLAY
Long journeys necessitate a little small talk to ease the nerves, and the older the travelers, it seems, the more likely the topic turns to family.
Rodrygo: Kid, you never talk about your parents. You're not Brazilian, so what are you?
Lopera: No. I'm originally from Colombia.
Rodrygo: Bananas, coffee, and a military junta—not so different, really.
Rodrygo: At least you won't get homesick.
She has no desire to engage with the old man's banter. In her heart, she feels far more nostalgia for the dry, yellow steppes of Kazakhstan than for the country of her birth.
Admiral Igor and his children did not have a fixed home.
Lopera: Zeno is my home. As for Colombia, Brazil, it doesn't matter.
Rodrygo stops his pace and turns around to inquire further.
Rodrygo: How can Zeno be your home? It's just an army.
Rodrygo: I once served in the army, too. Really, it's no different from any other job. People from all over bunched together, just trying to survive.
Rodrygo: Many years ago, someone told me, "Join the army. You'll make friends for life, and no one in Rio will dare look down on you again."
Rodrygo: But life after retirement was not so good, and all of those "friends for life" dried up in the end.
Rodrygo: Then I heard someone say, "Go to São Paulo. The soda factory there pays in dollars. Your children will suffer no more."
Rodrygo: Not long after I arrived, the factory closed down. I didn't even get my last month's wages. Worse, I found out my coworkers had taken it.
Rodrygo claps his big hands together, as if creating a dramatic pause.
Rodrygo: At the end of all that, I finally understood. Family is the only thing that matters. No one else will ever truly care about you in this world.
Rodrygo: Once the war is over, once the factory closes, when you leave with empty hands and nothing more than you came with, and you worry every day about what your children will eat.
Lopera: Wait, you have children?
Rodrygo sweeps his large hand lightly over Lopera's head.
Rodrygo: Of course. A daughter, she was about your age.
Rodrygo: But she never made it out of Rio. She died.
Lopera: Sorry.
The man puts on a smile.
Rodrygo: It was my fault. I shouldn't have joined the army, then the cartel wouldn't have gone after her to get to me.
Rodrygo: But I know that she must be in heaven because she used all her persuasion to get God to send me my little boat. See, she has blessed me already.
Rodrygo: Maybe that's why I want to live on it like that old man, just waiting for the day that my own mind will let me flick that switch.
Rodrygo: But now is not that day. I still need to help you find this Sandro, don't I?
Lopera: Right. We need to find Sandro fast.