It's already night, and the streets remain deserted, as they almost always are. The streetlights flicker in their tired gray glow.
Cinthia walks behind Rudy. He moves without hurry, sketching something on a piece of paper.
"So he just disappeared? After the flapping?"
"Yes… there wasn't even a sound afterward. He just vanished."
"That's strange…"
"Do you really have nothing to do with it?"
"No."
"Then why did I see you that same night? You weren't far from where it happened… and on top of that, you avoided me."
"Does it bother you that I avoid you?" he replies without looking at her, still walking and drawing lines.
"Don't start, idiot. And what is that you're doing?"
"The same thing I was doing that night."
Cinthia quickens her pace to walk beside him. She stretches her neck to see.
"Is that… a map?"
"I like knowing everything about the place I'm in."
Cinthia narrows her eyes, suspicious.
"Oh yeah?"
"It also helps me find the first objective."
"Huh?"
"Do you remember what William said?"
"About integrating people from the other side."
"And helping your own."
"My own?"
"There are students who, for some reason, stopped going to Nigella."
"I didn't know that…"
"That's normal. No one even remembers they existed. Not even that they once attended."
Rudy stops abruptly. He turns slightly and lifts his head toward a structure.
"We're here."
Cinthia follows his gaze.
"The cable car?"
It was installed atop a set of steps, illuminated, adorned with chains of flowers. It stood out sharply against the uniform color of everything around it.
"What do you plan to do?"
Rudy scratches his head.
"It's the fastest way to get to the address William gave me."
"We're going up there?"
"Yes."
When Rudy takes a step forward, Cinthia grabs his arm.
"Hey, idiot. Only sponsors are allowed to use this. It's strictly forbidden for us."
"We have authorization from the president."
Cinthia tightens her grip. In her lowered gaze, a flash of fear appears.
Rudy notices.
"Keep your eyes open if I disappear."
"It wouldn't suit me to lose the only witness to Oliver's existence."
"Don't worry. Gary remembers him too."
"Huh?" She shakes her head. "Anyway… no."
Rudy watches her for a long moment. She doesn't look up. The fear there is real. Maybe guilt. He says nothing. He takes her hand and squeezes it firmly.
"What are you doing…?"
"I don't know," he says, looking away. Expressionless.
"That's your best solution?"
"We just have to get on."
He starts moving almost backward, never taking his eyes off her. Step by step.
"H-hey… idiot… what…?"
"I'm not going to let you disappear."
"You think that's enough?"
"Even if we break every rule of this world," he smiles, "I promise."
Cinthia doesn't realize when she takes the first step. She just keeps looking at him, fixed on those emerald eyes.
Their footsteps make no sound. She's already crossed the threshold. There are small stumbles, but Rudy is there to steady her. Both inside.
Rudy reaches behind her and secures the door, careful not to make a sound.
Cinthia only reacts when the cable car begins to tremble, to rise, until it hangs over the rooftops of the highest part of the city.
She looks around. Beneath her feet, a sea of extinguished lights, like endless gray stars.
"Off we go then…" Rudy says, carefully letting go of her hand. "I suppose this is how it works."
He moves one of the three levers, the one that seems to indicate direction.
The cable car begins to move.
It doesn't creak, beyond the inevitable sound of the pulley sliding with elegance. A faint noise, incapable of overpowering the shared breathing inside the cabin. An irregular rhythm. Not the same. One heavy with nerves; the other, with forced attention.
It's too late to regret it. Getting down isn't an option. The drop stretches several meters below—slow but final, even at this contemplative speed.
Rudy never takes his eyes off the map. He traces the lines with his finger, alternating between the layout and the direction control.
Cinthia shifts her gaze between the city spread beneath her feet and Rudy, his hair stirred by the air.
The cables follow the course of the streets: a complicated network, full of turns and detours. Rudy reads it with confidence.
"Is it far?" Cinthia asks.
"More or less…" he sighs. "It didn't occur to me before. With this view, it would've been easier to trace the route."
"If there were uniformed guards, they'd have thrown you out of Craddle already."
"I wish that were the case. They wouldn't—not even if I blew everything up."
"Why wouldn't they?"
"I wish I knew."
"Did they bring you here?"
"Me and Gary… with no chance to escape," he points to the flower on his head with a brief smile.
"Who would want to go back to the other side? Even from here it looks terrible."
She looks toward that vast area of unstable lights, cut through with shadows and gloom.
"I won't deny it. It might smell like rust and you choke on dust when you breathe. But I have friends there." He glances at Cinthia; she notices. "Real friends."
"I don't know what you're implying. I've known Lía forever."
"Then does she usually do that?"
"We're forbidden from hurting each other. Violence is one of the strictest rules…" Her eyes harden. "I've never seen her like that."
"Does she hate people from the other side that much?"
"She always warned me… but never to that extent."
"Her eyes hate me," Rudy says. "It's more like disgust. Ordinary contempt."
"Then…"
"But I saw her eyes when she hit that new girl," he adds, not looking away. "I know those eyes. That's pure hatred."
"What are you saying?"
"Maybe it's something more personal."
"Personal?"
Rudy looks away. He doesn't answer.
"Now I'm afraid to ask her," Cinthia says quietly. "I wouldn't know where to begin."
"I know that feeling well."
"Huh?"
"I have a friend too. He's clumsy and kind. Two things that don't usually go together with his position."
"Who are you talking about?"
"His name is Miguel. An idiot who's always dreaming. He's been with me for as long as I can remember… though that's not saying much. I barely remember two years back."
Cinthia raises an eyebrow.
"Are you saying you don't remember your childhood?"
"Nothing," he answers easily, almost ironically. "Since then, I've always been with him."
"Then how can you say you know him well?"
"My other friends, yes." His gaze grows distant. "But him… there's something I can't read. He's always naïve, always kind. And yet, sometimes I'm afraid of him. Sometimes all I can do is look at his back and stay silent."
Cinthia keeps those words to herself. A shiver runs through her at the change in his tone.
"I guess it's the same thing that happens to me with Lía…"
"Give it some time," Rudy says. "Talk to her when you notice she looks at you and then immediately looks away."
"You seem to know a lot about this."
"I'm learning."
The cable car continues on in a silence that doesn't seek to discomfort. It serves to observe every corner and every empty street of Craddle.
They don't take long. Or at least, that's how it feels.
The cable car stops abruptly, though without violence.
"We're here…" Rudy says.
The cabin descends slowly to the ground, in the middle of an ordinary street. Even so, there's something lugubrious in its stillness. The buildings lack interior lights.
It's time to get off. Rudy takes Cinthia's hand when he notices a slight tremor and helps her down. The darkness is thick.
They walk a few steps and look up.
"Is it really here?"
"Yes… I didn't expect it either."
The house in front of them is marked by fine cracks. The curtains hide the interior. The garden, withered, looks forgotten.
"It's abandoned… no one could live here," Cinthia says uneasily.
"We'll have to check."
Rudy moves forward. Cinthia tugs at his clothes.
"Entering other people's houses is forbidden too."
"I think we've already broken enough rules," he replies without stopping.
The door opens without resistance. Inside, the darkness is even deeper, forcing them to stop.
"It's useless. Give me your portable."
She turns on the device's light and hands it to him. With that minimal glow, they begin to explore.
Everything is in place: tidy furniture, clean hallways, a thin layer of dust covering everything.
The kitchen, however, shows slight disorder. A table, two chairs, two empty plates.
They go up to the second floor. Nothing different. Only one room remains.
When they open it carefully, it takes them a second to understand what they're seeing.
"Curious…" Rudy murmurs.
Lying on the bed is a boy their age. Motionless. He breathes slowly, eyes open, fixed on the ceiling. He doesn't look at them. He seems sunk into something they can't see. But he could clearly move if he wanted to.
"How long have you been like this?" Rudy asks.
The answer comes out rough, barely audible.
"Three… years…"
Something tightens in their chests. They say nothing more. They can't. They remain there, trying to understand.