MACEIÓ, FEBRUARY 2066
It was a cold and rainy night when Maicon finally arrived in town. A few minutes after sunset, the surrounding landscape was already changing from agricultural plains to a densely populated urban area. That neighborhood was the periphery of the boundaries of the municipality of Maceió. In it, small carpentry houses attached to each other clustered forming extensive corks and towers embedded with pipes and loose wires connected to the ground. Surrounded by these imposing and depressing concrete walls, a sense of claustrophobia timidly grew in his chest as the landscape passed at high speed out of his car.
The young boy had waited long weeks for the day when the Maceió Civil Police would call him for his first day of service. His grades in the academy exams and in the competitions he had given were all excellent, and he spent the last month patiently waiting for a response from the department about when he could finally begin his post. The euphoria he felt when he heard of his acceptance was instantaneous, but gradually it was fading away and turning into anxiety. Every day he saw himself checking at least three times his email, cell phone and computer looking for any notification that was, and whenever he found nothing but tax notes, he suspected that his position had been reassessed, or that it had somehow been rejected. It was on one such day that the man was at home when his cell phone stung with the notification of a message from an unregistered number. In it, the sender claimed to be from the capital's office, and he asked Maicon to appear as soon as possible to officially occupy the post the next day. The text itself was quite strange: it was written in a lousy way, it was poor in detail and it did not explain why the response was delayed. The boy did not pay much attention to it, however, and quickly distracted himself with his bags and the car trip.
Small and rapid rays of water hit the glass, and the headlights illuminated a crowded and turbulent road. In the opposite direction of Maicon, on the other side of the highway, huge traffic was moving out of town in an unusual congestion for that time of night. On the other hand, the road on which the boy was driving was completely free and empty. At first, he was able to distinguish the chaos that was spreading next door: people shouting and arguing with each other, cars colliding with one another, and bells ringing all at the same time. Everything made it seem that, for whatever reason, people had moved in haste and without any organization, as if they were fleeing far away.
Maicon had the courage to face them for only a few seconds before ignoring them. Anxiety broke in his chest and disturbed him for the rest of the journey. He tried to distract himself by turning on the music station on the radio, but no matter how much he tried, he could not help thinking with fear about what awaited him in Maceió. Despite his inexperience, he did not consider himself a fearful recruiter. Even so, a squeal went through his spine just thinking that he might be driving into a much more serious problem than he had imagined. The recruit knew that kind of city, so fragile and flawed that it seemed to have been built on clay feet. Accidents in these places happen almost every day and almost no precautions are taken by the authorities. If an evacuation order had been issued by the city council, Maicon would have more than enough reasons to really worry.
Accelerating along the road, the car finally crossed the peripheral neighbourhood and reached the city center. Low and cork houses gave way to larger and wider buildings; the once clean night sky was now perforated by high buildings with towers enclosed at the top. The streets looked like asphalt corridors stuck between giant concrete and steel structures and poles interwoven by confused wire-wrapped upstairs.
Before turning on an avenue, Maicon stopped the car when he noticed the chaotic traffic. On the perpendicular street it was, an extensive queue of crowded vehicles was practically parked in the middle of the road. From inside, the drivers argued and yelled even louder than the last time. The bells sounded frenetic, and city guards tried to drive the traffic and organize it.
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The Happiness of an Orphan's Mother
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