It was 8:30 on Monday morning. Gabriel was running along the train platform. Once again, he would be late for the office, and he had no valid excuse to justify himself. After his conversation with Don Anselmo, he had walked back to the boarding house. The old man's words echoed in his head over and over again, keeping him awake for most of the night. It wasn’t until five in the morning that sleep finally overtook him, and he didn’t hear the alarm clock that always woke him at seven.

He managed to catch the subway an hour later than usual. By then, the crowd was much larger, and passengers were packed together like cattle. His destination was the offices of Supermarc, a major chain where he performed routine administrative tasks. Once again, he would have to deal with the head of personnel, Pedro Bruguera. Gabriel had been working there for three years, and from the very beginning, his relationship with Bruguera had been poor. They never spoke; Bruguera was always lurking, waiting for Gabriel to make a mistake so he could unleash all his arrogance and hostility. Today, he would have the perfect excuse.

After leaving the orphanage, Gabriel had drifted from job to job until he landed this one, which was the best he had been able to find. His daily routine consisted of eight straight hours at the office. He finished work at four in the afternoon, went home, grabbed a bite to eat, took a shower, reviewed his coursework, and at seven, left for the university. He wouldn’t return home until after midnight, eat a quick snack, and collapse into bed.

Many times, he had been tempted to throw everything away, but "And then what?" he always asked himself. He wanted to escape from this exhausting world, from this society that, with all its rules and laws, had become the most perfect and cruel jungle—one from which no one could escape. The absolute monotony repeated itself day after day, not only for him but for the vast majority of people.

As he approached the supermarket, he could already imagine Bruguera’s face filled with satisfaction. This time, he had all the cards in his favor. Gabriel reached the entrance, punched his time card, and headed to his desk. Almost immediately, as if propelled by a spring, Carlos Bruguera shot out of his office and marched straight toward Gabriel’s desk. This time, he would enjoy reprimanding him in front of all his colleagues.

—Good afternoon, Mr. Lozada!

Gabriel tried to come up with an excuse, but Bruguera kept talking.

—Do you know what time it is?

—Well, I believe it's nine twenty, sir.

—Don't just believe it, Mr. Lozada! It is nine twenty in the morning! What excuse do you have for such a failure!? —Bruguera shouted, turning purple.

—I overslept.

—You overslept! —Bruguera repeated, looking around to make sure all the employees had heard—. Mr. Lozada, leave at once. You are suspended.

Gabriel had been reprimanded many times before and had never reacted, but he was tired—tired of so much humiliation.

—You know what, Bruguera? I'm sick of you. Sick of hearing you, sick of seeing your stupid face every day. Sick of this miserable job. And sick of my own lack of guts to stand up for myself. So, you can take my job and shove it right up your ass! I quit!

Bruguera didn’t react. He stood frozen, like a statue. He had never expected such a response from an employee, least of all from Gabriel Lozada, who had always been so quiet.

Gabriel stood up, grabbed a few belongings from his desk, and without saying goodbye to anyone, walked away under the stunned gaze of those who, until that moment, had been his coworkers.

When he left the supermarket, he felt strangely good—free from pressures, from the stupid burdens imposed by an unjust society. He felt good about what he had done, even if he would regret it later. It was like going against the current, flipping the board, if only for once in his life. He walked aimlessly for a couple of hours. It wasn’t cold. The sky was cloudy, and a light drizzle had begun to fall. He entered a bar and ordered a coffee.

He thought about his life up to that moment—sad, devoid of anything that could motivate him. He was alone in the world, without family, without friends. His one great dream was impossible to achieve because he had no money. Traveling, discovering, observing the different cultures of the world was nothing but a utopia. Work had served only to help him survive. Suffocating, exhausting jobs that fulfilled him in no way. He often wondered why he had been born in this era. He wished he had lived in a time when the world was still unexplored, when much of the Earth remained an attraction and a mystery—a world waiting to be discovered.

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As a child, he had imagined himself as a great adventurer, setting sail toward unknown lands in a fragile vessel, driven only by the fortuitous mercy of the wind. But no. He had been born and raised in a fast-paced, technological, and utterly materialistic world, where magic, fantasy, and the excitement of the unknown had given way to struggles for economic power, environmental destruction through industrialization, and the arms race. Wars, hunger, misery, diseases, and utter disregard for human dignity had replaced old values like friendship, solidarity, loyalty, and respect for others. Everything was permissible as long as the goal was personal gain.

Conquer, subjugate, plunder—these seemed like words from ancient times, yet never had they been more relevant than now. These actions had only grown, disguised under false facades portraying great powers as victims in need of defending themselves—justifications for the suffering they inflicted upon weaker nations.

People today lived in absolute apathy, constantly seeking fleeting glimpses of amazement in technological advancements—amazement that lasted no more than an instant. How far would humanity go with its technology? And if it reached its limits, then what? Would people sink into endless lethargy, an eternal lack of interest in everything? Sometimes, too much superficial knowledge could be harmful.

He thought about the old man, and his words repeated in his mind over and over again. Could it be true, or was he just a crazy old man obsessed with fantastical stories? Now that he had been given this strange opportunity to escape from this sick world, it sounded irrational, out of place. But what if it were true? And what if it wasn’t? What did he have to lose by trying? Saying “yes” just to see what would happen?

He shook his head in denial. Smiling to himself, he thought it was all nonsense—delusions of a man who had lost his sanity.

Now, without a job, he would have to start searching again. Long lines of applicants competing for a miserable position—one that, sooner or later, he would manage to get. Another job, more absolute tedium—an office, paperwork, bureaucracy, falseness, boredom. He would take a few days to rest and reflect. Read a little, watch some television, and maybe, just maybe, entertain the old man's madness. He smiled. What else could he do? He had no other options, and he knew it. He could only bow his head and keep moving forward.

A swarm of customers crowded in front of the bar’s television. At first, Gabriel paid them no attention, but they were so agitated by what they were watching that he had no choice but to look.

Breaking news had interrupted every channel’s programming. The screen showed a terrible explosion in the United States, in New York City—an event reminiscent of the attack that had brought down the Twin Towers. But this explosion was monstrous. Every update was confusing, and aerial footage showed a devastated city. Gabriel stood up and approached the television, dazed by the report, just like everyone else who was only now learning about it.

He continued watching as the information kept changing. The United States had not been attacked by terrorists—though that’s how they would see it. They had been attacked by a coalition of Arab nations, fed up with American arrogance. It was the beginning of a new war—the war over oil, one that could drag the rest of the world into a global conflict.

—“Something is going to happen. Something that could bring about the end of the human race. I don’t know when or where, but within this week, something will happen. Stay alert, and if that convinces you, I will be waiting for your answer.”

The old man’s words echoed in Gabriel’s mind.

—The old man… the old man knew, —he thought, shocked.

He tore his gaze away from the television and stepped out onto the street, hypnotized—not by the images he had just seen, but by the prophetic words of the old man, who had promised him proof. The proof had arrived, bringing with it a glimmer of truth in everything the elder had told him that night.

The street was packed with pedestrians rushing to find a store window where a television might be showing the images of the disaster—images that, instead of frightening them, were treated as just another form of entertainment. People had grown accustomed to watching death unfold on their screens. Attacks, murders, suicides, even full-scale wars were broadcast live, providing amusement through horror and the suffering of others—watched as if they were mere movies.

They had no idea that these massacres affected the entire world, or that, sooner or later, it would be their turn. At first, you are just a spectator in this Roman circus, watching as the lion devours its prey. Later, you are the prey.

Gabriel kept walking as if blind to everything around him. But suddenly, clarity struck his mind like lightning—an absolute divine revelation of what he had to do. A unique sensation filled him—the undeniable understanding of why he had been born.

Decisions formed in his mind, clear and spontaneous. He would go immediately to tell the old man that he accepted his offer. If Don Anselmo was crazy, then Gabriel would be even crazier for saying yes. But everything inside him told him that this was no madness at all.

He hurried down the stairs leading to the subway station. Halfway down, he stopped. An elderly woman, her leg amputated, was begging on the ground, leaning her weary back against the wall.

—Here, Grandma. This is all I have, and I’m sorry I didn’t notice you earlier.

—Son, you have nothing to apologize for! Come closer!

Gabriel knelt down. The old woman fixed her dark eyes on his, stretched out a frail, wrinkled hand, and brushed his cheek.

—You are not like anyone else! I can see it in your eyes, my son! You are not like anyone else!

Gabriel took her hand in his, smiled in gratitude, and walked away.