Until he woke up and immediately realized he felt better. The feeling that his brain was melting on a spinning wheel had gone away.

Adam was a new person. The pains had ceased to weigh; his muscles had relaxed.

It took him a few seconds to place himself in space, and a little longer to do it in time. He was in the apartment room. What day was it? He didn’t know exactly. Malin? The blonde girl had been right next to him, and…

“Welcome back to the world of the living, fights prince,” she saluted him. She was sitting at the opposite end of the bed, watching him with a calm smile.

“Hi,” he saluted back, untying the last ties that sleep had woven over him. “What day is it?”

“Friday.”

Adam sat on the bed and discovered he could do it without getting cramps.

“Did you sleep next to me?”

She laughed kindly.

“You would have to be on the brink of death for me to grant you such a favor,” she said and took him by the hand.

Adam had his bladder about to burst, so he went to the bathroom and unloaded it without closing the door. The noise of the urine falling into the water toilet lasted for several seconds.

“I’ve learned to get used to that sound,” Malin said. “Doesn’t mean it’s nice, though.”

The color of the expelled liquid was dark yellow, and its odor was pungent. It was the meds, Adam knew, and he ran the water. He looked in the mirror and discovered with pleasant surprise that the swelling had gone down and that the bruises had lost prominence on his face.

He closed his eyes, and by the time he reopened them, the bathroom mirror had gone from being a small square over the sink to something huge that went from floor to ceiling. He saw himself in front of it, sitting in a barber chair and covered with a white cape from the neck down. He was Juzo, and he was at a hair salon outside business hours; most of the lights were off and the blinds facing the street were closed. There was only him and Malin.

“The cargo will pass at 0800 hours on Route 226. The guys and I will go first,” he said. “I’ll need you to stay alert. When I give you the signal, you’ll shoot a Photia in front of the truck, and then you’ll position yourself above us. With the thruster, it’ll be a lot easier for the plan to work. Understand?”

Malin, who was behind him, cutting his hair, raised her chin so that both looks could meet in the mirror.

“I won’t go,” she said.

“Come again?”

“I won’t go.”

“Malin, you’re the only Grenadier among us. I have no powers. And according to Rigel, this will be our only chance to—”

“Juzo, I don’t care what Rigel said. I’m not going hunting anymore. And lemme tell you, I’m sick of that thing going on between you two. You know well that, if there’s anything that makes Rigel tickle besides his sick obsession, which both of you share, it’s me; another thing you guys have shared.”

“What do you mean?”

“That I don’t like you feeding Rigel’s addiction to nose around by asking him for information, even knowing that if they catch him, they’ll lock him up. Rigel doesn’t measure how dangerous his endeavor is, Juzo, but you should; and I want you to stop because he won’t, not as long as I’m with you.”

“Malin, Rigel is a big guy who can make his own decisions.”

“He’s not, that’s the point,” she said without stopping working on his head. “Rigel still is an idealistic teenager, only he is too old to dare to abandon the service and live the hobo life that many of those he admires lead. His problem is that he still fantasizes about clearing his conscience by playing spies, and that’s where you come in because you’re also stuck in the paradox of the eternal idealistic teenager. You keep having dreams about overthrowing the Empire, and you don’t realize it’s a machine way too big that won’t bite the dust at the moment; not for your efforts, not for those of the zealots you call comrades.”

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Juzo’s jaw hardened. “I remind you that many of those zealots are also your comrades, and they’ve offered you shelter more than once,” he said.

“I know, and who said I’m guilt-free in all this mess? I just want you not to get Rigel into this. He gets to you because it’s a twisted way to get to me, y’know?”

“So, what, Malin? Why are you with me? Why did you get into this revolution?”

“Those are two questions with the same answer, Juzo,” she said. “I’m with you because I love you, and I’m part of this revolution because I love you; because I’m terrified of you getting shot in an altercation without me around to help you, and then finding it out when I have to go to recognize your body among the casualties.”

He sighed, annoyed.

“Then,” he said, “you don’t do it for our ideals.”

“Juzo… Look, it’s not that easy.” Malin stopped, holding up the scissors and the comb. “Yes, I do believe that this military dictatorship must end, but tell me, if democracy were to be established, what kind of place would you get? The whole country has operated in the same way for five centuries, not decades, centuries! Also, I remind you more than fifty percent of the inhabitants of this territory work for or are related to the army. Hell, even I stayed in the army almost by osmosis! Because there is nothing to do after the mandatory service period ends. People are not prepared to take responsibility for their decisions, and that’s something people know. Otherwise, you would have had everyone on the street raising banners and setting tanks on fire. If that’s not the case, it’s because they know that the cost of that freedom will be much higher than the benefit that they would get from it.”

“And the alternative is—what, Malin? Accepting mandates with our heads down for another five hundred years?”

Malin shrugged.

“No… I-I don’t know,” she said and continued cutting his hair. “But keep something in mind, Juzo: The only way to win is to take the Imperial Citadel by force and take command, right? Well, guess what, that city is a fort guarded by legions of soldiers, and Grenadiers, who have weapons you people have only carried in your dreams. Do you think the assault on a convoy will scare them? How many robberies would have to be successful for the old men of the Imperial Council to take you guys as a serious threat? And in the event that you succeed, which politician is qualified to take the reins of the city without the help of the military?”

“Malin, I’m hearing the same nonsense that cowards say.”

“And I’m watching you do things only fanatics do, Juzo. Why don’t you question your motives from time to time? Didn’t you realize our only success in the last confrontations with them was getting out alive? The other time, following a false lead, we walked right into the lion’s den; and what for? Just to say we were able to get out of there to tell the story. What sets us apart from a teenager playing car racing, when victory is a mere adrenaline rush?”

Juzo glared at her through the mirror’s reflection.

“Our ideals,” he said.

“Which ones? Feeling too macho for tickling a beast too lazy that doesn’t even bother to take a swipe to keep us away from her?” Malin put the scissors and comb away, covered her forehead, and took a long breath. “Look, I’m so exhausted. That’s all.”

“You need a break from this madness,” Juzo agreed.

“That won’t do,” she denied. “What I need is for you to do something to take a weight off my back. And you know what weight I’m talking about.”

He stood up, yanked the white cape off his neck, and flung it on the chair. He hated when Malin touched that subject so lightly!

“I won’t. I won’t put myself through that,” he said. “I could die.”

“Oh, of course!” Malin jumped, upset. “It’s better for me to die out of the wear and tear than you for trying, right? You selfish bastard!”

“Nine out of ten men fail to survive treatment.”

She shook her head.

“That’s BS,” she said and continued in a low voice, as if afraid that whoever was passing by on the street might hear them. “There’s a way to know if your body is ready to resist treatment.”

Juzo stared at her, interested.

“It’s classified information,” Malin continued, feeling the heat of shame on her cheeks, perhaps from keeping this a secret for so long. “Only the Imperial Council and some of the High Command know about it to avoid crowds lining up to test it. Though, well, being the General’s daughter, there are things I’ve learned. The truth is that if 70% of your genetic profile comes from the Pannotian Lowlands, y’know, from the Middle Ecuadorian area to the south of the continent: New Somalia, the Edda Peninsula, all of that, you have a 99% chance of resisting treatment. And judging by those cute features of yours, I’m sure you will. I mean, that tanned skin, that brown hair, and those green eyes, they can only come from there, right? It is just a matter of taking a DNA test to confirm it.”

Juzo hesitated.

“C’mon! I wouldn’t lie to you about this,” Malin said. “The genome of those of us who have survived has that particularity. Everyone who died didn’t have it.”

“It doesn’t matter. I won’t do it.”

“Yes, Juzo. If your ideals are as high as you say, that would be little less than a small sacrifice to fulfill them.”

Juzo got enraged and stormed out of the salon, slamming the door like a spoiled teenager.

But all of a sudden, he realized he was making a fool of himself by being so stubborn. Malin was right to ask him to do that. Damn right she was! How come he hadn’t seen it before?

Right. Because he had been Juzo Romita, but now he was Adam White, and his nature and way of thinking had changed.

“And the cargo?” he asked. He felt his mouth pasty, and his throat hurt a little. “It was crossing Route 226 at 0800.”

“What are you talking about?” Malin’s voice came from somewhere not far away.

Adam woke up and sat on the bed; he was alone in the room, in the temporary apartment.

“Forget it,” he shook his head, sleepy. “Is today the summons?”

“To go to the dentist, not the Satellites,” Malin answered from the kitchen. “Today is Saturday.”

“Oh! Sure, of course.”