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Author’s Note:
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A blue, clear sky over an endless expanse of water spreading in all directions, no land or clouds in sight. A bank of fish splashes near the old fishing boat as it cuts wavelets across the near-flat ocean, undeterred by the engine’s deafening buzz.
A round folding table with a selection of sandwiches, energy bars, beers, and water bottles stands under the shadow of the gantry’s metal structure. Around the plastic table, three bare-chested female crewmembers eat and laugh, each one sporting a different combination of breast sizes, old battle scars and intricate pixel tattoos.
The muscular woman with a buzz rolls little balls of bread which she throws over her shoulder as she retells a nasty sex anecdote to her laughing coworkers, fish spiral in a whirlpool whenever another piece of bread hits the water.
"Hey, hey dude…" she waves at the thin woman with braided hair once their laughs diminish "Check this."
She rolls another piece of bread, aims theatrically, and throws it to the other side of the deck lit by the sun where it sticks to the sweat-drenched skin of one of the nude preteen boys hanging by their wrists under the gantry. The three women burst out laughing.
The boy doesn't seem to notice, his body and head —still covered with the golden sack— hangs limp, his fighting energy having been depleted a long time ago. The sweaty bodies of four boys sway and smack with one another as the boat bobs in the water. Another piece of bread lands in the chest of one of them, then the next piece barely misses his small penis, the three women boo and laugh.
Inside the boat's cabin, the Boss watches the scene with an expressionless face, a hand in the wheel while the other holds the phone which displays a nautical map with big white digits changing constantly. Despite the overwhelming heat, the old woman is still wearing her blue foul weather jacket, only now with the zipper down to her clavicle, allowing more of her intricate neck tattoos to be visible.
She looks at the phone and sees the decimal point on the largest number in the map change from 9 to 0. She grabs the binoculars, scans the horizon for signs of any other vessels, and cuts the throttle.
The diesel engine slows down in a long series of languishing coughs until it stops completely, returning the calm to the ocean. The hot, soupy air is left silent except for the sound of wavelets against the hull, the groans of metal and wood as the old vessel sways, and the ongoing competition between the three women playing darts with the captured boys.
The Boss steps out of the cabin typing non-stop on the phone. The three women immediately cut their laughter and stand up.
"Have they pee'ed already?" the old woman asks to no one in particular, then continues without waiting for an answer "Good, prepare this new batch for introduction." she points at the tall woman in blue pants “And that dumb toy inside your eyes better work this time. I’m getting tired of repeating myself again and again."
The woman in blue gulps and nods, taps her temple causing red rings to flash in her pupils. The Boss sighs, shakes her head, and continues typing non-stop on the phone while the three crewmembers readjust the gantry’s wires and hooks to separate the hanging boys, forcing them to stand in a line with their arms held up facing the aft of the vessel.
Once in place, the women kneel behind each boy, separate their legs, and tie PVC pipes about 2 feet long to their ankles. The kids squirm and jump in place trying to stop them from holding them in this new more vulnerable position, but their attempts are half-hearted due to their sheer exhaustion.
Once all the captured tweens stand spread and ready, the women put back their bulky foul weather jackets and smooth, featureless masks with no mouth or eye holes. One of the women offers a mask to the Boss but the elder woman shakes her head, barely acknowledging her as she continues typing.
"It's easier when they see your face." she murmurs.
The woman nods, puts the mask away and starts removing the golden sacks off the kid’s heads. The boy’s faces scrunch and turn away one after the other as they're hit by the bright light, hissing against the rubber balls stuffing their mouths.
Then, as they blink and their eyes slowly re-focus, they become increasingly horrified as they realize the gravity of their situation, standing naked unable to move with four scary-looking adults in a semi-circle in front of them. Of particular concern to the boys is the thin old woman in the center with long white hair and pink highlights, her face as expressionless and dehumanizing as that of her masked accomplices. The boys begin to struggle and grumble once again.
The Boss smirks, walks to the folding table nearby and grabs a sealed sandwich and bottle of water. She returns and hovers the sparkling container and square of bread in front of the boy's faces, harvesting their attention.
"Make no mistake, your ordeal is just getting started…" she starts to say in a controlled, dominant tone of voice, silencing the boy’s muffles "Not just because we’re still many hours away from our destination, but because you need to be… eased into the right state of mind before we arrive at our farm.” she starts to unwrap her sandwich “The other reason we stopped in the middle of nowhere is that we’re finally far away enough from shore that we can remove your Faraday cages without worrying about any remaining devices in your skulls sending a signal.” she shrugs “Not to mention that if we don't hydrate and feed you soon, you'll probably dither and die under this heat. And that’s a lot faster, and cheaper, if we untie you first. Those feeding tubes are expensive. Particularly the smaller ones…”
She lets her words linger in the air as she takes a bite off her sandwich, continues talking with her mouth full.
"Now… before your small, little drone brains start to think too much about what you'll do the second after we untie you, you should know that I’m NOT worried about the dangers from you roaming free around my boat, waving your little dicks around or pressing your dirty little asses on surfaces. I have three baby girls back home, so I know how to deal with some shit-stains." she shrugs "I'm also NOT worried about the possibility of you conspiring or teaming up to try and overpower me or my associates. They have plenty of experience dealing with rowdy children and will make sure you behave at all times."
She motions at the three masked women behind her who wave and throw air-kisses at the boys. The nude children instinctively recoil and bend their knees in a futile attempt to protect their exposed groins.
"Moreover...!" the Boss says before pausing to swallow "If your minds are now scrambling for alternatives and you’re weighing the jump-off-the-boat route, be warned that we'll do nothing to stop you if that's what you choose to do." she smiles in an I'm-serious kind of way "But remember before you leave this boat that you're dehydrated, sore after standing all morning under the sun, and that the nearest shore it's 24 miles in... that direction" she points at the open sea behind her "You should also remember from ecology class —in case you even go to school—how most shark species are no longer under threat of extinction and are thriving all over the Gulf." she takes another bite off her sandwich "So... take that into consideration."
Most of the kids are whimpering now, their eyes clouded with tears. The Boss smirks, pulls the phone out of her pocket and starts navigating the apps. As she scrolls, she throws glances at each boy who instinctively recoils and looks elsewhere whenever their eyes meet. All except for the tallest one, a dark-skinned preteen with Indian features who doesn’t flinch whenever she stares directly at his greenish eyes seething in ire.
The Boss smiles to herself and takes a sip off her water bottle.
"So, with the first part of the introduction out of the way," she taps the phone screen a couple of times "I'll now show you a couple of videos. And once they’re over my associates will untie you and we’ll all enjoy a nice continental breakfast at sea. Sounds good?"
The boys don't move, too stunned to react. The Boss doesn't seem to notice.
"Good!" she clears her throat, readying herself. Behind her the three masked women have gotten more comfortable to enjoy the show, standing with their arms crossed or leaning against the boat’s railing "See... I've been in this business for a long while, which means I've seen firsthand what works and what doesn't. And the unfortunate reality is…” she turns and smiles “Being ‘nice’ doesn't work. Here, let me show you what I mean..."
She turns the phone around and steps closer, allowing the tied preteens to watch the grainy video playing on the small screen more clearly.
The kid's eyes pop open, they squirm and recoil, their limbs shaking as they pull on their restrains with renewed vigor. The Boss’s smile widens.
"I know! It's quite an impressive rig, wouldn’t you say? You would think it’s very expensive to design and build a machine capable to keep a person restrained like this for long periods, but it turns out they’re sort of commonplace nowadays! Albeit for older users, so some modifications were necessary at the end..." she starts pacing in front of the whimpering boys while looking for another video “This here is just one of many rigs at our farm made for drones like you who do not…” she tilts her head "Cooperate during their stay at our facility… A stay which by the way, can be as short as six months and as long as three years, depending on how quickly you reach spermarche and how much motile sperm you manage to produce before it withers and dies as you enter puberty." she waves a hand dismissively "What happens once you become infertile like everyone else? Don’t worry, we’ll just throw you —near-ish— the closest shore from where you can restart whatever sorry life plan you had in mind before we captured you. Pretty simple, uh?"
She pauses to take another bite off her sandwich, waits for the muffled cries and bawls of the tied boys to die down.
"Or at least that's what’s supposed to happen,” she says raising a finger “What drones who cooperate at all times can expect at the end of their stay at our farm. Because if you don't cooperate. Well..." she shrugs "If you feel tired and sore and extremely distressed from being immobilized for a couple of hours, just imagine how the drone in this video felt after being held in this rig and milked dry for... mmh... how long was he...?" she looks at the other three women who shrug and shake their heads "Two weeks or something…? I forget…” the Boss says waving a hand.
She continues to fiddle with the phone as the nude tweens struggle and fight against their restraints in all-out panic, their legs separated by the PVC pipes swinging wildly. By the time their tantrum finally dies down the old woman has finished her sandwich and drank the rest of her water bottle.
"See... the BIG problem in our line of work…” she continues as if nothing happened “The problem around which everything seems to circle, is that boy's testicles are really, really delicate things!" she chuckles "And worse of all, they're attached to some really, REALLY unreliable caretakers. Namely, you!"
She points at the boy’s exposed genitals, causing them to instinctively bend their bodies.
"Ah! See what I mean?" she shakes her head "I know it's hard to believe after spending a decade taking care of your little eggs that you would ever think of hurting them. But! —spoiler alert!— once you're inside our farm and forced to produce more sperm than you thought was possible; it won't take long before it dawns on you that the only thing stopping you from being taken back home are those darn huevitos glued to the bottom of your body!" she chuckles, her finger taps the screen finally finding the video she was looking for “And once a drone arrives at this realization, he becomes really, really determined to eliminate the source of his troubles..."
She turns the phone around and shows the boys another video, this time a slideshow with some sharp, close-up photos, burnt with the characteristic glow of a camera flash triggered way too close to its subject.
The boys immediately jolt and twist away, gasping in disgust and shock from the morbid pictures the old woman holds near their faces. The Indian boy seems like he's about to throw up, his face turning green.
"Oh, I agree, it's quite a shocking thing to see.” says the Boss with a chirpy voice “But it’s also a bit impressive wouldn’t you say? I mean, drones come up with all sorts of —frankly— ingenious ways to sterilize themselves! Can you believe he did this without any tools?” she motions excitedly at the screen “And this other one even managed to concoct anesthesia using household items! Where the HECK he learned to do that?”
She turns the phone around and stops the video, searches for another file as the tied preteens calm a bit.
"So, as you can imagine, this conflict of interests around the health of your testicles is a BIG headache for people like me. And over the years we've designed and tested many, many ways to stop our drones from hurting themselves, even while under constant surveillance. I can show you some more photos of our chastity belts and immobilization rigs if you want." the boys yell and shake their heads no, she shrugs "Yeah, I also don’t think it’s necessary. Because the fact is, all our systems failed! The sad truth in this business —or perhaps the reality many of my peers refuse to accept—, is that most drones will eventually succeed in their quest to become infertile, which I say is a BIG reason why most farms nowadays are barely profitable!” she waves a hand “And yeah, yeah, there’s the rising operational costs from state orphanages and group homes basically turning into military fortresses nowadays, or the flood of new competitors in the drone milking business like pharmaceutical companies, sperm banks, third-world governments, and even fucking S’Jays!"
She says this last part with growing anger, spits on the ground at the end. The three women raise their masks a little and spit too.
“It’s as if people were conspiring to destroy us! And we can’t let that happen. No, small drone farms like ours must evolve if we’re to thrive in this new cut-throat world that has run out of frozen sperm reserves. We got to raise to the next level! Sum efforts and streamline processes. Stop wasting our time in red tape, our money in bribes, and our influence on short-lived political favors. But above all I say, we got to cut on waste!”
She turns the phone around showing the last video. The boys instinctively flinch and look away, with only the Indian kid keeping a side-eye on the small screen.
From the phone speakers comes the sound of waves and the distant cheers of a group of women, yelling and teasing someone to hurry up. After about half a minute of droning ambient sounds, the boys start to open their eyes and stare at the blurry images on the screen with confused expressions, unsure about what they're looking at.
"See, when I was in the Air Force and got my first wing to command…" the Boss says as the video plays "I quickly learned that the KEY to managing large groups of people is by managing their incentives. So... if drones are doing everything in their power to hurt their testies, it's because they have a powerful incentive to do so. Namely, to return home by turning themselves into worthless prisoners."
The cheers on the video grow louder. The boy's eyes open wider as they start to decipher what the crowd is cheering on.
"And they're right! I have no use for a bunch of unclaimed, infertile, poor, and unskilled adolescents who don’t even own clothes anymore!” she smiles “Thing is, neither do your home governments! Can you believe the largest ransom we've been able to secure for one of you was 3,000 dollars?" she snorts, motions at the muscular woman behind her "This goon charges that amount per day! One of the contractors for our Thorium reactor bills as much per hour!"
“Shit…” murmurs one of the masked women “Is it too late to change my major…?”
The Boss raises a finger, readying herself to sync with a certain moment in the video.
"I know most of what I’ve said so far has flown past your heads, so if there's ONE thing you should remember from our little chat is that hurting your testicles won't make you worthless… You're already worthless!” she lets her words linger for a second “Think about it. If you were valuable, it would have been nearly impossible for us to capture you. Try to snatch a child with actual parents —let alone rich, white parents— and you could trigger a massive international manhunt! Nobody got time for that!"
The cheers in the video grow to a crescendo. The eyes of the four boys open wide in recognition. The Boss’s lips curve in a sardonic smile.
"So… As we populate our new farm with fresh drones, we've introduced a new set of rules: No more restrains, no more overwhelming surveillance, no more cages, or pens, or other crowd control methods originally designed for cattle. No. Drones at our farm will be free-range, able to roam wherever they want so long as they keep their testicles safe and healthy.” she tilts her head “The only rule is, they must fulfill their sperm quotas. Every day without fail. From the time they hit spermarche to the time the Great Infertility hits back —such a stupid name by the way—. And if they don’t fulfill their quotas? Well…” she shrugs “They'll be expelled."
A gunshot sound from the phone speakers. The four boys jolt in unison and freeze with eyes pop wide open. Then comes the sound of a loud water splash followed by the roaring cheers by the crowd of women.
"So… What do you think? Can we count on your full cooperation once we remove your restraints?"
The gagged kids start nodding furiously, their eyes closed shut and their cheeks wet from pouring tears.
The Indian boy however looks like he's about to faint, his face pale. One of the women rushes to his side and releases his mouth gag seconds before he bends his body and pukes all over the deck.
The Boss takes a step sideways protecting the phone with a hand, an amused smile across her face.
"Good! I think you'll find your stay at our facility much more bearable this way. Just keep your boy nuts safe, my associates happy, and in a couple of months to a few years you'll find yourselves swept by the waves back on some beach hugging an empty water jug, free from this whole ordeal.” she turns the phone around, sighs as she watches the end of the video “Otherwise, you may end up on that same beach all bloated, rotten, swarmed by seagulls, and scaring the bejesus out of some innocent tourists taking a morning stroll..."
She shakes her head, regretting the memories of that episode. Waves at the masked women to release the kids.
"Poor folks... especially the small girls. I can’t imagine how traumatic that should have been..."
A river of pedestrians, shoppers, bicycles, and couriers —both human and robotic— descends like a lava flow through a commercial street under the harsh midday sun. A collection of restaurants, specialty stores, vending machines, and offices border both sides of the road, barely able to contain the overwhelming swarm of people.
The back door to an indie movie theater opens with a metallic clank, a smaller crowd of people pours out and rapidly dissolves into the human solution waiting outside. Most of the moviegoers are old folks, the couples engaged in heated arguments around the movie they just saw, with the only two kids among them being no exception.
"Oh! And how about that fight scene in the end!?" Miguel says with wide-open eyes and big arm gestures, his red cap worn backward and the crumpled remains of soda and popcorn under an arm.
"Oh my God, YES!" Carolina says making little jumps in place "I don't know if you noticed, but I was sitting like this all the time!" she raises her arms and imitates someone inside a fighter jet, both kids break into all-out laughter.
She wipes tears off her eyes and remembers something "Oh! And that sex scene in the end! I mean… Wow!"
"I know!" says Miguel still laughing, turns his red cap forwards "That was pretty cool too. I think it’s the same Sex Coordinator from the prequels."
They stop to let a group of service machines roll past. Miguel waves at one of them and throws the empty food packages inside.
"Uh, you may be right…” Caro says looking up, her fingers brushing her hair “Those close-up shots DID seem familiar." she suddenly remembers something and grabs Miguel’s arm "Oh! And that thing in the end? When they make a sort of… triangle? Can boys really do that?"
Miguel's smile falters for a second from feeling her hands on his arm, he shakes his head "Nah, that's just special effects. We would need like, FOUR arms to do that!"
They break out laughing once again, drawing curious glances by passing shoppers. Caro's giggles stop when she notices how people’s eyes land on Miguel and stay fixated on the boy, weighing their options. She pulls him by the arm and beckons him to hurry, squeezing between the forest of adults towards their bicycles chained to a public bike rack on the next street corner.
Once they free their bikes Caro checks her phone and gasps. She turns the screen to Miguel who also panics when he sees the hour. They look at each other, nod, and hop on the bikes, speeding along the next avenue towards Miguel's second house visit of the day.
Gulls squeak as they hover high in the sky above a mid-income hotel squeezed between two large office buildings, the birds held in place by a warm and steady ocean breeze, betraying the street’s proximity to shore.
Two bikes screech to a stop in front of the hotel. Miguel immediately steps out of his bike and runs up the stairs while yelling: "I'll be right back!"
"Hey wait!" Caro yells standing near the boy’s abandoned bike "Don't go inside all by yourself! I gotta check if it’s safe!"
"No time!" shouts Miguel as he removes his red hat and enters the hotel’s revolving door. He pulls his oversized white shirt off as he walks inside the glass cylinder and steps naked out the other end, rushing across the dusty lobby towards the farther service door, drawing curious glances by the few guests waiting to be serviced by the robotic butlers.
The nude boy runs holding his NASA shirt in one hand and stroking his penis with the other. His huaraches clapping loud in the bare, beige corridors as he moves from one open door to the next.
"Come on... come on..." he hisses as he peeks inside each room, his hand stroking himself even faster.
He flies past another door, stops, and runs back inside, finding himself in a small office where a young woman with glasses and a hijab sits behind a desk talking with a middle-aged white man on the other side.
Both adults turn and look quizzically at the naked Hispanic boy wearing a MAGA red cap, holding a white shirt in one hand, and stroking his small erection with the other.
"Uhm, we said Saturday, right…?" Miguel murmurs as the awkward silence prolongs.
The young woman blinks returning to Earth. She smiles at the man and stands up "Excuse me for a second Mr. Müller, I'll be right back..."
She walks around the desk motioning Miguel to hurry out of the room. The boy nods and steps outside, his hand still stroking his penis.
"I'm sorry I'm late! There was a lot of traffic and..:"
"Miguelito, you have to leave. I..." the young woman begins with that tone of voice adults use when easing bad news to a child.
"I know! I'm sorry! It won't happen again señorita, I promise!" he releases his penis and joins his palms in front of him "I'll wait here till you finish, and then we can have sex! Won't take a minute!"
The woman waves her hands "No, no, that's no longer necessary Miguelito. You see..."
"Please!" the boy squirms with a tinge of desperation "I-I'll make you cum if you want! N-no extra charge! Please!"
The woman snorts and shakes her head, not believing it. She looks back inside her office and gestures the man to give her another minute.
Then she grabs the skinny shoulder of the eleven-year-old boy and directs him to the next corridor corner where they can talk more privately.
"No Miguel, you're misreading the situation. You did nothing wrong." says the woman with a softer voice "In fact, quite the opposite… That's why you need to go. I don't need you anymore..."
The nude boy shakes his head not understanding, his eyes pleading. The young woman rolls her eyes and takes a deep breath, preparing to explain herself.
Suddenly Miguel understands. His face relaxes and his hands drop.
"Oh..." he mutters, a mixture of relief and disappointment in his voice.
The woman nods and smiles. She straightens her body and takes a moment, still not quite believing it herself.
"Yeah…! I'm finally going to college. It's so surreal..." she motions back to her office "In fact, I was interviewing my replacement. It's been a hectic month since your last visit. I got the news soon after we had sex, but I got so caught up with the paperwork, lab tests, and all that, that I…” she shrugs, embarrassed “I kinda forgot to let you know..."
Miguel nods and scratches the back of his neck. He puts his NASA shirt back on, his erection already deflating.
"It’s okay s-señorita, no need to apologize. Um... Congratulations on your pregnancy..." he says with a forced smile.
Caro steps inside the glass revolving doors just as Miguel steps in from the other end. She waves trying to draw his attention, but the boy seems to ignore her. He exits the glass cylinder and heads straight back to his bike chained to a rack nearby. Caro can only wait for the revolving doors to complete a full turn until they deposit her back on the scorching heat outside.
"Hey! What happened!? Are you ok?" she yells as she catches up with Miguel who struggles to dislodge his rusty bike from the rack.
"I'm fine." the boy blurts shoving his rusty bike from side to side. He finally manages to free the wheels and walks away pushing the bike by his side.
Carolina hesitates, unlocks her bike, and follows him.
The two tweens walk pushing their bikes for several blocks without sharing a word, heading nowhere in particular. Miguel walks with his eyes on the floor while Caro walks behind him in silence, unable to decide whether to ask him what happened.
The sun is high in the sky leaving few shadows along the bare sidewalk. Miguel peeks over his shoulder and sees Caro fanning her green hoodie to give herself some air, her face blushing red. He sighs, reads the nearest street name, and turns on the next corner. Not long after they enter a small park dotted with puffy trees and cast-iron benches.
The moody boy drops his bike in front of a bench shielded from the sun and sits on the headboard with his feet on the seat. Caro huffs and lowers her bike on the ground, then sits next to him.
The two sit in silence for a long while with their elbows on their knees. The girl sporadically throws glances at the boy who keeps staring at the dead leaves on the floor with a thousand-yard stare.
She huffs, holds her chin in her palms and lets her eyes roam around their surroundings. She studies the trees, the hotels, the pedestrians, and then back at Miguel. She cycles through these objects of interest until she realizes she has just spent nearly ten minutes straight biting her lip and staring at the boy, analyzing his skinny body barely covered by the oversized NASA shirt, guessing the shapes and contours underneath.
Miguel turns and looks at Caro with a questioning look, shaking the eleven-year-old girl out of her stupor. She coughs and looks elsewhere.
"Money problems?" she ventures.
Miguel smirks and nods "Money problems..."
Caro nods too, used to it. She wets her lips before asking "Um... Am I still getting paid for today…? Or...?"
Miguel jolts. He smiles and shakes his hands "No, no! You're still getting your share. The money for my third house visit is all yours, just as we agreed."
"Ah! Ok...! G-good to know!" Caro says with an awkward smile.
Miguel nods, his smile alternating between genuine and forced. He scratches the back of his neck.
"B-but she’s available until 7:30. And… we don’t have enough money to eat until then. I mean… 22 bucks isn't a lot for two people..."
"Ah! Um... It's $12.5 in fact…" says Caro with a whisper. She pulls out her phone and shows the big —yet small— green number crowning her online wallet "I may have agreed to that extra popcorn the bot suggested..."
Miguel's eyebrows raise, Caro's guilty smile widens. Suddenly she remembers something and buries her hands inside her hoodie's kangaroo pocket, extracting the wrinkled bills and rusty coins the old woman gave her.
"Hey! What about these?"
"Wow! Are those real?" the boy says amazed moving closer. He touches the old bills with the tip of a finger as if they were delicate butterflies. Caro giggles.
Miguel murmurs to himself as he counts the money, leaning unconsciously even closer. Caro swallows and tilts her body away until he finally realizes how close they’ve inched together and slids back.
"Oh! Mmh… It's just 29 bucks, still not a lot." he coughs on his fist and looks away "And we would have to exchange them for real money first, but most pawn shops are on the other side of town."
"Ah...” Carolina says, deflating “I thought the bill with the bearded guy was valuable."
Miguel chuckles "No, you're thinking about the ones from before the war. It's a common misconception from all the bots mixing in new bills into old movies." he moves his hands as he explains further "That's actually a way to tell if a movie is unmixed: check if it has the correct bills and coins."
"Ah, wow!" Caro says with a smile "And… How else can you tell if a movie is unmixed?"
"Oh, tons!” he says with raising enthusiasm “Like with blood special effects! There's this 'x' shape that was very popular in old libraries that bots today also erase. So when you see the 'x' on the screen, it means the movie is unmixed!” he stutters as his excitement bubbles up “O-or this other glitch in bird flocks...!"
Caro nods and smiles as Miguel continues to dig further into movie trivia, rapidly forgetting his past hurdles. Their conversation gradually evolves as they start to one-up each other with more and more obscure facts and hard-to-check factoids.
But after about an hour of back-and-forth conversation, the first strings of hunger appear during a silence between laughs. And with it, the kids are reminded about their economic struggles once again and get serious.
"Uhm, I was thinking..." Miguel says taking off his red cap to scratch the top of his head "What if we message your parents and ask for some lunch money? I can pay you back next week when abuelita... Hey, why are you laughing?"
Caro has a hand on her mouth suppressing her giggles. She shakes her head.
"Sorry, I'm not laughing at you. I was just imagining my mom's face, in the middle of her second shift, reading a message asking for money." she straightens her back, smiles a cryptic smile "I would rather starve the rest of the weekend than give her an excuse to shoot more of her venom."
Miguel nods and raises his palms, apologizing for his suggestion. Caro shrugs and pats his bony knee, forgiving him.
"You're lucky for not having parents. They suck."
The boy seems taken aback. He speaks with measured words "I'm... not sure I agree. I think you're... um... lucky to have parents."
Caro laughs "You can have them if you want! I'm not using them right now…"
They both chuckle without much enthusiasm, then sigh at the same time and rest their chins on their fists when their stomachs gurgle again. The pedestrians passing by throw furtive looks at the miserable-looking pair of tweens. One even considers for a moment giving them a couple of dollars, but when they see they have no QR code on display they walk away.
"How about other clients? Don’t you have more houses to vis…?" Caro begins to ask, but Miguel is already shaking his head.
"No, none of my clients is ovulating this weekend, and unless they tell me, most don’t appreciate me showing up unannounced. I learned that the hard way..."
"Ah... Mmmh..." she snaps her fingers "Can we go back to the market and take the twin’s offer?"
Miguel groans and pulls his red cap to cover his eyes "I don't want to have sex inside a hot van that smells like cheese! I have standards!" they both laugh, he pushes his cap up "It’s also probably giga crowded right now. And on top of that, they can only pay me with morecheese! You really want that for lunch?"
Caro gags and shakes her head. She groans and looks up at the sky while brushing her black hair with her fingers.
Miguel waits for her to speak, but as the seconds pass his eyes begin to wander on the eleven-year-old girl. He watches her fingers splitting apart the rainbow colors on the tips of her hair, explaining the alternating faded sections. He lets his eyes linger on her smooth thighs and stares at the soft skin of her neck poking out her green hoodie, the vellum contour sparkling under the sun.
He re-shifts his weight, both from sitting on a hard surface for too long and to re-accommodate his growing erection mercifully hidden under the folds of his shirt. He coughs.
Caro glances back at him and raises an eyebrow. Miguel diverts his gaze. He joins his hands in front of him and grinds his knuckles together.
"I-I'm sorry you're stuck with me all day. We can call it the day if you want… That way you can return home."
Caro shakes her head and moves closer, wiggles him by the shoulders in a playful way "No! No way! This is just a hiccup! We'll figure it out!" she laughs "And I don't feel like I'm stuck with you! Escorting you for these past few weeks while you visit houses has been very... entertaining."
He laughs, his face burning "Yeah, it has its moments..."
"I would hope so!" Caro says with a laugh, releasing him. Miguel’s body trembles slightly from missing her touch "There's all the sex you're having for starters...!"
He rolls his eyes, she laughs. Once she stops another awkward silence falls between them.
A couple of yellow birds land on a tree nearby, catching Caro’s attention. She raises her phone to record them while Miguel scratches his head, gathering up his courage.
"And… Do you...? Do you want to have sex?" he finally asks, then realizes what he just said and hurries to add "At some point I mean! With someone you fancy! Not like... right now!"
They both laugh. Caro puts her phone down and lifts her body an inch off the bench.
"I would hope not! These things are sticky!"
The two laugh again, but the awkward silence soon returns. Miguel's knuckles keep turning and twisting as his forearms rest on his skinny knees.
"Yeah, I'm curious how it's like…" Caro murmurs, looking up at the blue sky while brushing her hair with her fingers "I mean... it seems fun!” she shrugs “And if a penis feels HALF as good as my bunny vibrator, I guess it’s worth it." she smiles "Especially with the right person…"
Miguel nods, knuckles rubbing hard against each other.
"And do you... Have anyone in mind? You have a... 'right' person you want to have sex with?"
Caro shrugs and holds her knees, balancing herself.
"I have some prospects... There's this girl on my street that has asked me if I want to share his boyfriend." she shrugs "He's kinda bland, but she's cute." she giggles, clicks her tongue "But I'm not sure I want to have sex with him as much as I want to have sex with her. And beyond that, she says she's still not sure if she'll grow up to be queer… in which case, what’s the point?" she shakes her head "Other than them, there's this guy from Iran I met in Wiki School that’s pretty up-front about asking me. We’ll probably have sex someday."
"Oh! I see... Iran uh…?” Miguel murmurs, his knuckles pale “He sounds, um, cool."
"Yeah, he's cute. Oh my God, those eyelashes! You get lost in his eyes.” Caro giggles and shrugs again “But he's sixteen and mom says I have to wait two more years until I can accommodate a grown-up penis.” she huffs “And even then, I don't think we’ll be a couple. I mean..." she leans closer to Miguel and whispers in a conspiratorial way "When he asks me for nude pictures, he wants them to be, like... real."
"Uh?"
"Yeah, yeah! He wants... ‘real’ photos of me. No filters, no avatars, nothing at all! I'm supposed to just..." she lifts her phone to take a selfie "Aim it at my pussy and click send!" she clicks the screen, tilts her head “Uh, the phone was recording...”
"Oh wow!" Miguel says with a laugh "That's... old school."
"Ha-ha, yeah!" Caro says pocketing the phone "He has many old-fashioned quirks like that. It's as if he still lives at the start of the century or something."
"Yeah! Like... the thirties?"
"If not older!" she says with raising enthusiasm "I should ask him if he uses a face-mask when he goes outside!” she pumps her arm “Gotta watch out for that corona!"
Miguel laughs "Or the pedophiles! He better carry a gun to protect himself from them! Oh, and the zombies! There's always zombies in the movies from that time for some reason..."
Caro gasps, both hands over her mouth. Miguel's eyes open wide as well.
They look at each other and smile.
"The sequel!" they chant in unison.
"Corona infested...!" says one.
"...Zombie pedophiles!" finishes the other.
They break in all-out laughter, drawing even more curious looks by nearby pedestrians. A few even suppress smiles as they walk past, infected by the kid's horse laughter.
When their laughs eventually die down, they're both sweaty and bent in pain from their aching stomachs. Miguel smiles at Caro who smiles back. They hold their gaze for some seconds before sudden self-awareness forces them to avert their eyes.
A family of five with minimum clothing passes by. Two adults in speedos carrying surfboards followed by a row of nude toddlers. Miguel turns and looks at Caro with an excited look.
"I know what we can do! Let's go to the beach!"
Caro's smile vanishes. She straightens her body and pulls her green hoodie further down.
"The beach? At this hour!?"
But Miguel has already stood up and jumped out of the bench. He raises his bike off the dusty soil with a big smile.
"No, no, you don’t get it! It's the perfect time! There's always money to be made at the beach at this hour. It's how I found my first clients! And with the money we make, I’ll take you to eat to a place that will KNOCK your socks out!"
Caro looks unconvinced, steps off the bench with hesitant steps "I-I don't know Miguel... It's tera hot today and only getting hotter. We don’t have anything to shield ourselves from the sun… How exactly do you earn money at the beach?"
"You'll see!" Miguel says with a grin turning his bike around, the maneuver momentarily exposing his brown butt under his white shirt, freezing Caro in place "And don't worry about our deal! You won't have to do anything sex-related. Just keep an eye out." he hops on the bike "Come on!"
Caro doesn't move at first, still struck from glimpsing the boy’s bubble butt.
She shakes her head and hops on her bike, giving him chase.
To be continued…
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