???: In the narrow streets, violence is so often more than just a means to ending conflicts. It is a tool, and one all too readily used.
???: I must note, however, with some relief, that the segregation so commonly observed in other regions is absent here. The arcanists of São Paulo live alongside humans, with the latter often displaying traits more common to their arcanist neighbors—passionate, if a bit touchy.
???: Life here is incomparable to the comfort, security, and freedom of New England.
???: Hardship, violence, and oppression are the fundamentals of life, as constant as the sun, and as heavy as the rain.
???: This country is renowned for its coffee and sugar. It is a land of beauty and bounty, treasures too often extorted. Whether by the princes of Europe and their donatários, or now by the bankers and corporations.
???: Despite all the centuries of treasures extracted from the land, desperation remains everywhere you look. It is a place where insurmountable wealth and the deepest deprivations are neighbors—sometimes they lie only a street across from one another.
???: The multinationals have cut open the country's throat, and now they drink it dry—
???: leaving the people struggling with poverty and chaos. It is a bleak existence.
???: Dear readers, I share this with you, so the story of these people might be heard.
The doctor sits by the riverside, a small group of children gathered around her. They watch in awe as her typewriter hammers the letters onto the page.
Doctor Dores: Shippy, do you know, has life always been like this here?
White Rum: If you ask me, Doc, São Paulo in 1990 isn't much different from Nassau, 1681.
Doctor Dores: It's a shame. Between the sunshine and warm sands, there is a good life to be lived here, if only they were free enough to live it.
The summer is long, just like the suffering of these people.
Doctor Dores: I used to dream of traveling to all sorts of fascinating places.
Doctor Dores: A foggy city by the Thames, and a little town blanketed in snow and sunflowers. I met so many different people, though I find I can no longer recall their voices, I have only their words left, only my records of them.
White Rum: Have you heard of a weed down at the bottom of Lake Ilopango? The people there turn it into a polenta with cornmeal.
White Rum: Supposedly, if you have it, you'd recall every last thing that's ever happened to you. Every bit of it!
Kid in the Favela: Wow! What's the weed called?
The children turn to the ship in the bottle, their eyes filled with curiosity.
White Rum: They call it "La hierba del tonto," Spanish for "the fool's weed," ahahahaha!
White Rum: You see, lad, only a fool would want to remember everything. Sometimes, a little forgetfulness is a blessing in disguise.
Doctor Dores: I beg to differ, Shippy. To forget the past—its lessons, in pain and joy alike—that isn't a blessing. It's oblivion.
Doctor Dores: But let's not argue over some mythical weed. For all the claims, no one has ever seen it, just another myth, like the succubus or the minotaur.
White Rum: Aye, aye, let's talk about succubi instead. That's sure to get the lads pricking up their ears!
At the mention of this, the little ship goes off again.
White Rum: Back in '88, I mean 1688, of course, our chief mate, Mr. Morgan, had an encounter with a succubus after he found her seal while carousing in Porto Belo.
White Rum: If the rumors tell true, once he got a hold of it, she grabbed a hold on him too. I couldn't say what transpired, but we never saw hide nor hair of him again.
No one can debunk her stories, but no one really believes them either.
The children's curiosity fades, and their eyes start to wander. One of them spots two "big fish" floating in the water.
Kid in the Favela: Look over there! Something's in the water!
Two figures float among the trash in the river, spluttering and choking.
One is clinging onto the other as they struggle to swim to shore.
White Rum: What the devil is all that commotion?
Vertin: ...
Ms. Kimberly: Hey. Wake up.
Ms. Kimberly: Hey, hey! Stay with me!
Ms. Kimberly: Can you hear me? Hello?
Kimberly pats her fallen companion's face.
No response.
Ms. Kimberly: She's still breathing. Why won't she wake up?
White Rum: Oh. What happened to the lass?
The little ship makes its way over, followed closely by the children and the doctor.
Seeing the group of strangers approaching, Kimberly tenses up.
Doctor Dores: Miss, are you alright? Is there anything we can do?
Ms. Kimberly: Yes, I'm fine. Our ship went down.
White Rum: Blow me down! These waters are getting rougher by the day.
The little ship sways back and forth in its bottle, showing off its excellent condition.
Ms. Kimberly: And we drifted down the river until we reached the shore here.
A long way to go, only to end up in the favela.
Ms. Kimberly: I know she's traveling with her friends, but I don't know where they could be now. Everything happened so fast.
Doctor Dores: Shippy, what's going on? Are there people that need care? What's their condition?
White Rum: Just one. A lass. She's still breathing, but she looks like she's been keel-hauled for a bit too long.
Doctor Dores: Miss, please lay her down on her side.
Kimberly does as she is told.
Ms. Kimberly: What are you going to do to her?
The doctor kneels down, skillfully clearing the girl's mouth of any residue before starting chest compressions.
Doctor Dores: Save her, if I can.
One push. Another.
It's a professional instinct. The duty of a doctor.
An unexplainable impulse drives her to revive the drowning girl.
Doctor Dores: Huh ... Huh ... Huh ... Huh ...
The girl coughs up some water. The doctor continues.
Doctor Dores: Good, good. She'll make it. Please, make sure her airway's clear.
She coughs out more water, but she still lies there, unable to move.
White Rum: Errh, are you sure about that, Doc? The lass looks paler than a ghost. I think she's burning up.
The doctor touches her forehead. It's burning hot.
Doctor Dores: You're right. We'll need to take her back with us. I'll fix some medicine for her.
Doctor Dores: Would you give me a hand, Miss? Help her up on my back.
Kimberly obediently helps the blind doctor lift the feverish girl onto her back.
Doctor Dores: Oh! She's almost as light as a child.
The children run ahead, pulling aside the hanging clothes for them to pass.
Doctor Dores: I need to run some tests and see if it's just an ordinary fever, or if she has contracted something from the water.
Doctor Dores: Don't worry. You're safe with us.
The doctor speaks to herself, or perhaps in reassurance to the unconscious girl.
Ms. Kimberly: Where are we going? Wait up!
Doctor Dores: Home.
Kimberly catches up to the doctor, only now realizing how far they've walked.
She steps into the doctor's "home."
