Elements of Earth: The Element Trials

Chapter 1a Kira, Rio De Janeiro, 1957: The Girl Captured

"Olá Geraldo." I spoke quietly after landing a few feet behind my assigned handler. Geraldo gasped in surprise as he spun around. So much for his macho gang member image.

"Where'd you come from?!"

I simply pointed up in response. I'd been spying on him from the roof overlooking the alley for the past ten minutes. To make sure he'd be alone. Usually, I would have only watched him for five. Probably paranoia, but the whole night seemed shady. The whole favela felt something was off. They shuttered themselves away in their homes, leaving less light to flow into the streets.

"You have a job for me." Not a question. Before all the words left, my mouth Geraldo shoved the missive into my outstretched hand.

"Give it to the man in black in the quadrado in the lower quarter. Be there in fifteen minutes Papelita." Little Paper, my nickname as a pequeno avião, or little airplane; what the gang calls their child messengers. If some kid got caught by the policia or rival gangs, it's not a big deal to the gang. Street rats are expendable. There's always more, of them. But they have never caught me. I planned ahead too much.

I always scheduled drop points near the middle top of the favela. If I had to run, it was easier to run downhill. And, since I know these streets, easier to get away. I'd approach from the top of the hill, hopping rooftop to rooftop, staking out the drop site from all sides. I'd fold the message into a small paper airplane and let it sail, staying safe and hidden on a roof. Given that my title, like others, is 'little airplane' I don't understand why no one thought of doing that before. Maybe I was uniqely great at folding them. I could make them dive and bank and turn in precisely the right way. Even if there was a building between my target on the street and the rooftop I stood upon, my little plane would glide around it to land right at their feet. They'd think I'm right around the corner at street level. Even if they bothered to check, I'd already have been halfway down the favela slope, hopping rooftop to rooftop.

I turned to leave Geraldo behind until his following order stopped me. "Make sure you hand this off in person, Papelita." He sniggered. Delivering the message in person was never a requirement before. The best way to never get caught is to not be there at all. I looked down at the red envelope Geraldo handed me for the first time. I can argue and tease Geraldo, even scare him a bit, but I knew better than to refuse. However...

"If I have to give it in person, then I want to get paid upfront." I said this with feigned arrogance. If he didn't refuse, he might reveal something... or just give me a beating. From his expression and the way he raised his hand, it looked like he was about to do just that. But he hesitated. He cooly followed his hand through his hair and sighed as if I couldn't tell his mood had changed. "Business has been too good to me tonight to say no to you Papelita." He had slipped his other hand into his pocket and he flicked two coins into the air with his thumb. They sailed up in two different directions. I caught both of them with one hand sailing through a broad gesture and turned as if I'd just waved goodbye. When I was out of sight, I shimmied up the side of the nearest shanty. I leapt downhill, roof to roof, and then veered to the side. I hid and watched until I could be certain no one followed.

When I looked at the coins, my mouth fell open. Not because it was a lot. No. I was paid the same as ever. But the coins were clean, and the year, 1957, reflected light from the moon. I looked up into the clear sky, into space. A place where a stray dog died and people never lived. I shook my head out of the nonexistant clouds and returned my thoughts to the coin. The price of everything is growing. Our government decided copper and tin were too costly for coinage. The switch to aluminum would happen soon, it was in the newspaper. I'd swiped a it from an empty table at an outdoor cafe when traveling between favelas to sell pipas. The paper would've been suitable to make more kites, if I dyed it and sealed it with wax. But then I saw the brief article on the front page. "Química dos metais e o custo das moedas," [Chemistry of metals and the cost of coins.]