The Secret Is Out

It's late in the morning when the power comes back on, and I'm awakened by the fan suddenly turning on, blowing a warm breeze into my face. My bed is damp from all that I've sweated throughout the night, and my throat is dry, clamoring for water.

I want to shower, but mom is using it, so I eat what I find in the fridge and head out towards the barrio. I'm sweaty and I probably stink, and I need to log back into Amoria. Without the charger for the Neural X, I won't be able to continue playing.

It's Saturday, and everyone is out enduring the heat the best way they can. Some people are outside, sprawled in their cable chairs, sipping tereré and listening to the news on the radio. Kids chase soccer balls through the alleys, and the scents of asado and chipa guazú cooking in ovens fill the air. Some people stare at me, but most ignore me as I walk past them.

When I get to the store, it's closed. But the lights are on inside, so I knock on the glass door. No one answers, and I decide to call the number printed on its sign.

"Hello?"

"Hi. Is this Hazard?"

"What?"

"Sorry. Look, I bought a Neural X from you yesterday, but the vendor didn't give me a charger. I need one."

"I'm sorry, we are closed now. Why don't you go back on Monday?"

"I can't. I'm at the store and I need to use the helmet today. That's why I got it, or else I would have just gotten a new one. I'll pay for the charger if you want."

"Wait," says the voice, and the phone is apparently shuffled around until another voice is heard.

"You the Chimstadian?"

"Hazard?" I say. I feel silly calling him by his in-game nickname, but I didn't ask for his real name.

"Yeah. My name is Santino. Santi."

"You didn't give me a charger yesterday."

"Well, you didn't ask."

I want to kick the door but I take a deep breath and calm down.

"You were in such a hurry to leave that I forgot. Could you please come down to the store?" I say, trying to sound sweet.

I hate myself. Depending on other people's kindness always makes me uncomfortable.

"I'll be there in half an hour," he says and hangs up.

I contemplate going home to shower and coming back. Half an hour is at least one hour or even an hour and a half in Paraguayan time, so I might make it back before he arrives. But you never know if the person is going to be the first one you meet who respects the time, so I sit on a flimsy crate next to a trashcan and wait for him.

Half an hour passes, then fifteen more minutes. My phone's battery is dying, since I haven't charged it in ages, and I'm beginning to lose hope that he's going to show up. Then someone pokes me in the head.

I look up and there's Santi, dressed in a soccer uniform and cleats. I never even heard him get close.

"I was playing at the field," he says and unlocks the door. I follow him inside, and he reaches under the counter and pulls out a big clunky charger.

"We don't usually sell them with used helmets, you know?" he says, stretching out his hand, and handing it to me. "But I made an exception for you."

Am I supposed to be flattered or something?

"Thank you," I say, as I turn to leave.

"Hey, you never added me yesterday," he says, catching up to me and locking the door once we're outside. I don't want to have this conversation, so I just shrug and start walking.

"Hey! Wait a minute. You live around here?" he continues, following me.

"Look, I appreciate that you came to get me the charger. But I don't want to play with anyone. I just mind my own business and make money in Amoria. That is all," I say, walking a bit faster.

"I'm just asking because we're having a party to watch the tournament ceremony this weekend, if you wanted to come. Well, they're not REAL parties because we're all online, but you get the gist. Like the olden days. We might even join a hero's team," he says, stopping.

"Thank you, but I don't have time for that," I say, and wave goodbye. He catches up to me. What does he mean by 'joining a team?'

"Why are you following me?" I say, glancing behind me. He's still there.

"I'm not, silly. This is the way to the soccer field," he says, scowling, and then he starts to walk faster, passing me and leaving me behind.

"Ok! I'm sorry," I call out, and he slows down.

It's been such a long time since I've interacted with real human beings other than Ma and María that I don't know how to behave. Last night he was just a vendor. Now he's intruding into my safe zone. But he's just trying to socialize, I guess.

"I need to level up and take care of business before the tournament. I'm at like 2% and it's a long way to level 101. Once the tournament is over, I'll add you and maybe we can go on some raids or dungeons," I say.

He walks fast as if he's the one who's trying to get away from me now. Or maybe I'm just in such a bad physical shape that I'm running out of breath just by trying to keep up.

"Why do you need to level up before the tournament?" he says, turning around.

"Eh… just in case we can join in. Like you said."

I have no idea what he meant.

"Normal players aren't given the option to level up, you know?"

"What?"

"You're a hero!" he says, opening his mouth and stopping again. He grabs his head in disbelief. "I thought you said you were from Chimstad. How did you get the pass?"

Now I truly regret talking to him. The last thing I need is notoriety, least of all from someone who lives close to me.

"I'm not a hero. I didn't know leveling up was blocked," I lie.

"You just said you were at 2%"

"For level 100."

"No, you said 101. Stop lying. What are you so scared of? You could use some allies, you know? I mean, if Desdenia and her cronies are all participating, you'll be the first one they target in the last stages when it's everyone against everyone. I don't know how they'll fix it among themselves, but they certainly won't let a Chimstadian win," he says. "Or are you really one of them?"

"No! I'm not."

"A Starfordian or a hero?" he says, arching an eyebrow.

"Starfordian," I say, sighing. "But I don't know how to use my skills yet. It's daunting to learn how to use a new class and the Neural X at the same time. Yesterday I almost got killed by a hero even before I knew for sure I was participating, so I'm not off to a good start."

So much for secrecy.

"I don't know many people who survived Desdenia's arrows in one-to-one combat," he says.

"Yeah," I say, and then automatically cover my mouth.

Shit, shit, shit.