The main gymnasium looked spectacular. Booths with professional lighting, drones flying overhead, robots speaking in synthetic voices. Parents in designer suits chatted enthusiastically. Álvaro searched for his table.
It wasn’t there.
At the reception desk, a woman with a surgically perfect nose and a frosty stare checked a separate list.
“Ah, yes. Fields. The inclusion participants,” she said without lifting her eyes. “You’re not in the main pavilion. Your area is Gymnasium B.”
Gymnasium B was hardly a gym. It was a storage hall hastily cleared out, dimly lit, tucked beside the restrooms. That was where the “others” were placed: Álvaro, an Indigenous girl named Lucía who had brought a collection of medicinal plants, and Pedro, a boy with Down syndrome proudly displaying his rock collection. They were hidden away so they wouldn’t “disrupt” the high-tech image of the main event.
Álvaro swallowed the lump in his throat and quietly adjusted his pipes. His father stood in the doorway, still in his janitor’s uniform, because his shift started in minutes.
“I’ll see you later, son. Just do what you know how to do.”
An hour passed. No one came. From the distance they could hear applause and dramatic music echoing from the main hall.
Then the door opened.
Mauricio Estrada walked in, followed by a group of friends. He was the thirteen-year-old son of the owner of the country’s largest construction company—and the main sponsor of the event. Mauricio wore a cutting-edge smartwatch and carried the confidence of someone who had never heard the word “no.” They had simply been looking for the bathroom, but the humble projects gave Mauricio an opportunity to entertain himself.
He stopped in front of Álvaro’s table, chewing gum loudly. His eyes moved across the dusty pipes and plastic bottles.
“What’s this?” he laughed. “Did a garbage truck dump its load on your table?”
His friends burst into laughter.
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