Light filtering through a slit instead of a window woke Mati, who, though unconscious, was not dreaming. When he finally regained full awareness, he found himself surrounded by children. They were joyfully celebrating the absence of parents, the absence of school, and the absence of anyone who might harm them. He looked from one end to the other, but Robicaela was nowhere to be seen.
Stepping out onto the esplanade, he realized that in this massive cavern lay everything he had been searching for: there were shops, schools, and sports facilities. What surprised him most was the complete absence of people his age or older. He approached the nearest entity—a robot far more intimidating than his beloved caregiver.
"Where is my friend?" "I deeply regret to inform you... her architectural design did not allow for this journey." "Is she alright?" "I am certain she is content: she fulfilled her mission, right down to her final directive."
It took him by the hand, and he allowed himself to be led. The touch felt familiar, though it sounded wrong to admit it; they didn't need to spell out what had become of his friend. Before losing consciousness, he had seen her lying broken in a corner. He wanted to weep for her, wanted to suffer and be angry at those who had brought him here, but everyone around him seemed so happy, and the robots were so diligent... so the protest died in his throat, remaining a buried burden.
They showed him the facilities and explained who they were: modernized iterations of his former caregiver, Robicaela. They informed him of his specific task: to select a wife and eventually procreate. He understood the concept well enough; sex education had been an integral part of his curriculum.
As young adults vanished, increasingly urgent mandates regarding reproduction were enforced. Thus, he understood there was no period for romance. Usually, couples had children two years before turning 18, but his parents, terrified of every outing, had hidden him from the local administration's notices.
The robots informed him they had already selected a match: a sensible girl named Micaela, in honor of his former unit. The girl appeared calm, not resigned. For a moment, Mati found himself at a crossroads; while he acknowledged the necessity of leaving descendants, she looked so young, and he felt it wasn't right.
He politely asked if there was any way to choose someone older, given that he was nearly 18 and she was still a minor. Amber indicator lights flickered for a few seconds before they asked him to consider the rest of the population. They explained that this shelter held nearly a million inhabitants, with many other facilities scattered elsewhere, but among all of them, he was the oldest. They needed him to take a partner and sire children; they needed to understand how Mati had grown under Robicaela's care. They wanted everyone to have the chance to be good children and men full of happiness.
Mati agreed, but requested they wait a while, believing it was not yet the right time for the girl. And so he lived for a couple of months, observing everyone and learning. It was a beautiful place, though discontent existed: mostly 15-year-olds who felt frustrated by their inability to interact with strangers, bored of children, classes, and constant pressure. Some of them reminded him of Miguel, his elder brother.
One night he awoke to blaring alarms. He rushed out and found a group of youths acting out—doing precisely what he had refused to do until his partner transitioned from child to woman. They rationalized their actions, claiming it didn't matter: if children came as a result, they wouldn't be the ones raising them anyway.
The robots began advising them to use contraceptives, to be careful, as they lacked procreation certification. Many were rude, some even turned violent, showing deep aversion toward the idea of actually raising offspring.
The teenagers shouted and hurled insults, protesting that this wasn't what they had been promised. They talked about freedom, desire, and equality—values they claimed were only granted to the mechanized units in the facility.
Mati stepped in and tried to make them understand, but they branded him a Uncle Tom, a turncoat, a Judas, and far worse. Still, he urged them to wait, telling them it wasn't the time; that he understood human impulses, but it was just that—a temporary feeling.
Everyone went to sleep, and the following day the disciplinary measure was posted: those young men were sent to the gardens to be processed into fertilizer until they reflected upon their delinquent behavior.
During that same period, Micaela and he discovered love, and for several months Mati forgot about the others. The children were growing up much more peacefully now that the troublemakers had been transferred to the plantations.
When a soft cry broke the quiet of early morning, Mati finally understood what it meant to be a father, and he thought of the family he missed. He decided to check if any of those young men had also become fathers without his knowledge.
Without telling anyone, he walked down to the orchards. The place was bathed in simulated sunlight, built as a vast greenhouse. He searched with his eyes as he walked, but heard no shouts from teenagers or any other human presence.
A farmer robot passed by, patted him on the shoulder, and invited him to taste the seasonal produce, mentioning that the watermelons would be enormous this year and offering him one to take home. Mati then asked where the young men were. The robot nodded smoothly and replied, "Do not worry. The harvest is all thanks to their labor."
Mati returned feeling somewhat contrite. In previous weeks, he had spoken with the children sent to learn agriculture, and none of them recalled ever encountering those youths. He also remembered from his farming lessons that soil didn't contain rust, nor was it naturally reddish... and he felt a knot of guilt.
It seemed he was the only adult left who was going to care. The problem was growing far too large, and he could no longer keep hiding from it.