Is an academic life really your destiny? It is true that your mother always insisted that you and Isaac take an intellectual path, perhaps hoping that a job among books would take you away from the reverie of war. But now, without a tremble in your pulse, you choose to leave that aside and return home. Isaac, who was already halfway up the stairs, notices your detachment and turns to face you reproachfully.

"What?"

You make it clear that you've decided to reconsider your options.

"You're kidding, right?"

Reaffirm your new intention. He shakes his head.

"You always need attention"

He leaves for college without you.

You return to your designated seat. You hear the hiss of the heat, it's the train yawning in relaxation and waiting for new passengers to arrive. You take your laptop out of the luggage, and take the opportunity to read a novel by Jesús A. Olivo, your favorite author. You were deep in the story, when you hear a voice.

"May I sit down?"

It's the attendant. But in a few minutes you would begin to know her as Melody. It seems that, in passing, she recognized a couple of lines from the novel you review. Such a topic of conversation is the opener of a substantial conversation. You exchange laughs, impressions, stories. The chemistry is almost instantaneous. You talk about your village of green forests and pens with plump pigs. She tells you about life in the snowy mountains of Merida.

This tale has been pilfered from Royal Road. If found on Amazon, kindly file a report.

"That's impressive"

It's not clear to you what she means, but you enjoy hearing her speak, her accent is lilting, worthy of a majestic bird.

"That. Receiving a scholarship. You must be very smart. I didn't make it through high school, so I had to go to work. And between making cheese and churning milk, I decided to move to the sky branch"

She looks out the window and her clear eyes wander towards Petare, where brutalism is growing.

"I never understood why they call Caracas such a thing. Back home I felt closer to the stars and the Almighty"

So why doesn't she come back? She sighs when you ask her, and forms fists on the hem of her skirt.

"I'd like to arrive with hands full. Any accomplishment, first. Anything to count on avoiding that look.... The I told you so refrain. We're all scared to admit resignation, aren't we? All the decent ones, I mean"

The train is almost full. Melody leaves you to do her job. Each time she passes by your seat, you muster another shred of courage to ask for her number.

The train, now with all the seats filled, chimes harmoniously again and closes the doors. The power of the atom, harvested in a mighty reactor, pushes the gleaming steel cars onto the rails. Magnets remove the friction, giving speed and imperturbable stillness all along the way.

Until the peace is broken by the shout of....

HOMELAND, SOCIALISM, OR DEATH!

You, like the rest of the passengers in the carriage, tilt your heads with frightened eyes, only to discover a man taking off his coat and revealing a green uniform, loaded with a belt of explosives.

Flee (Scene 6)

Attack (Scene 7)