It was late. I remember I was finishing some schoolwork when I became absorbed staring out the window, watching the orange sunset paint the old buildings in the neighborhood with a melancholic hue. At that hour, everything seemed quieter, slower. It was one of those moments when time stops, and there's only the wind, the light... and that hollow feeling in your chest.
"Andrés!" my stepmother shouted from the kitchen. "Come get your food."
I snapped out of my trance and headed to the kitchen. I ate as fast as I could. There wasn't much to savor—rice with lentils and a fried egg, as usual. Then I went to the bathroom, washed my feet, face, and hands, and rushed back to my room.
I closed the door carefully, and as the last ray of light disappeared, I ran to my hammock. I wrapped myself tightly from head to toe, as if the sheets were sacred shields against whatever might be lurking out there, waiting. My heart beat a little harder than usual. Sometimes, when the darkness fell completely, I felt like something was watching me from the corner of the room—right where the streetlight didn't reach. That's why I hid. That's why I didn't want to see if something looked back.
I don't remember the exact moment I fell asleep. I just recall some mocking laughter, disgusted comments—like distorted echoes floating in a formless space.
I woke up. But it wasn't my room.
I was in a strange hall made of blue bricks, lit by torches. The air was damp, heavy, with a faint scent of incense and old metal. I sat up, confused, and looked around. People were staring at me. Some were laughing. Others pointed.
What the hell was going on?
Suddenly, I felt a heavy hand on my shoulder, and a deep voice spoke to me:
"Hey, kid! A little decency, don't you think?"
I followed his gaze and looked down.
I was completely naked.
And what's worse than being naked in public? Exactly—being naked in public with a boner. My expression turned indifferent, almost resigned. I instantly knew I was dreaming.
All I could do was glance at my animated companion and say:
"Seriously? Right now?"
The man handed me a towel—I still have no idea where it came from. I quickly covered myself, trying to preserve some shred of dignity. But it was already too late for that.
The attention shifted when strange clapping echoed from a dark corridor at the end of the hall. The torches flickered, as if stirred by a breeze. And then I saw him.
A tall man—really tall, nearly three meters—stepped out of the shadows. He wore a wide smile, his eyes pure white without pupils, and his voice was deep and resonant.
"Dreamers," he said, spreading his arms. "Welcome to O.N.E.X.U.S."
Everyone was confused. Some stepped back. Others looked around, searching for answers. As for me, a chill ran down my spine. I knew this wasn't a normal dream. This was different.
The man walked to the front of the group, examining each of us carefully. His presence was overwhelming. Like a god—or an actor who knew every line of the script we hadn't even started reading.
"You have been chosen by the M.A.P.A.S. system. Be proud, for you have been touched by luck... or by fate."
Whispers filled the room. Confusion. A boy to my left muttered:
"Is this a game? An experiment?"
But I already knew. This wasn't a game. Something deep inside told me so.
It was a dream... and not at the same time.
And the worst part was—this time, I knew I could die.