Arcadio laziness

A week has passed. A whole week. Seven days that have felt like seven years.

If you ask me, surviving state bureaucracy and uncomfortable social situations has been almost as exhausting as fighting abyssal monsters in a pocket dimension.

A lot has happened, yes. Too much, perhaps.

First, the reward.

We were given a nice sum for our "heroic deed," which is infinitely appreciated, because heroines, magical as they are, also have to eat. And buy clothes. And pay for a place to sleep that isn't a cave or an abandoned building.

We spent a considerable portion on securing a decent roof over our heads and buying basic things that, when you're a single man, you don't consider vital, but which now, being two women with mysteriously expanded needs, seemed like life and death.

Then, thanks to Arcadio and his infamous "levers", we managed to get on the volunteer force.

So far, everything was going smoothly. A solid plan, with no apparent cracks. Get in, train, get paid, live.

But of course, life is never that simple, and Arcadio, with that cat-like curiosity that will probably kill him someday, had to get the whole story.

We couldn't help it. Lies had short legs and he was asking too many intelligent questions.

It was the exact moment when we told him the truth about our origin. We sat across from him, with the heavy air of confession, and dropped the bombshell: that before the powers awakened we were just one man, an ordinary guy, and that when we woke up.... well, some kind of magical mitosis happened.

There was a gender switch, a supernatural cell division, and now we are two different people sharing the memories of a single life.

Chia and I expected amazement. Maybe a little existential confusion. We were even prepared for scientific questions about the conservation of mass or the ethics of identity.

What did we get?

A grown man, a high-level civil servant, giggling like a teenager in anatomy class when someone says "penis."

Arcadio laughed so hard that I genuinely thought we would have to call a doctor or an ambulance.

He was turning red, short of breath, slapping his knees.

"Were you a man!"

He would repeat with laughter, tears in his eyes, pointing a trembling finger at us as if we were the main attraction in a freak circus.

"And now it's two? That's the best joke I've ever heard in my life!"

Chia was fuming out of her ears, literally. Her skin was turning a shade of blue with indignation, completely offended by the lack of seriousness.

And I... well, I was mentally calculating how much thermal force it takes to wipe the smile off a government ally's face without completely incinerating him and losing the benefits of his friendship.

Because, admittedly, as insufferable as he is, the guy is useful.

In the midst of his fits of laughter, and probably to keep Chia from turning him into an ice statue or me leaving him as a rotisserie chicken, he used his contacts in the government to solve our little "identity problem."

In record time, and skipping lines that would take a mortal months, he got us citizenship cards.

So now, officially, we exist before the Colombian state. We have numbers, we have names, we have registered fingerprints.

We have papers and everything. We are citizens who pay VAT.

Although, to be honest, I think Arcadio still lets out a sly chuckle every time he reads our female names on official documents, reminding us of the man we used to be.

And speaking of benefits from the lack of regulation and the legal "grey areas" in which we move....

We flew to Arcadio's temporary office in downtown Bogota.

Yes, we flew.

Because, technically, no one has written a specific law that says "unauthorized human air traffic by magical propulsion prohibited". Yet. I guess it's a matter of time before the Aerocivil fines us, but in the meantime, the sky is ours.

The experience of flying over Bogotá is... unique. The icy wind of the savannah cuts your face, mixed with the unmistakable smell of diesel and rain. Seeing the gridlocked traffic on Avenida Caracas from above gives you a sense of moral superiority that is hard to describe.

Of course, freedom of flight doesn't include a GPS built into the brain.

Let's just say we took a couple of unplanned "touristy" turns. We got a bit disoriented in the foggy eastern hills and almost ended up waving to the Fallen Lord at Monserrate before we found the right building.

But we made it, which is what counts. We landed on an empty terrace, fixed our hair (which had been left looking like a bird's nest by the wind) and went down to his floor.

The office was what you would expect from something "temporary".

Unpacked cardboard boxes in the corners, furniture that looked like it had been borrowed from three different decades, and that distinctive smell of stale coffee and old paper.

We were talking about nothing in particular, rambling on about silly things to kill time while he signed some papers, when Chia, with that subtlety that characterizes her (that is, none, because patience is not her virtue), blurted out the million-dollar question that had been going around in our heads:

-Hey, Arcadio.

She said, crossing her arms and leaning on the desk.

-And what exactly are "law monsters"?

There was a small silence in the room. The scratching of Arcadio's pen stopped.

As far as we understood from the brief reports we had read, the menu of supernatural threats came in two main combos.

First, the normal monsters. Those that come out of random portals like interdimensional tourists without visas: beasts, chimeras, things with too many teeth and not enough friendly intentions. They're dangerous, yes, but predictable.

And then... then there were these others. The "law monsters."

Who, it seems, were a different kettle of fish. They were the VIP category of nightmares.

Arcadio, clad in jeans, a simple shirt and a thick wool roan that contrasted with the office environment, didn't even flinch. He left his pen on the table, leaned back in his leather chair that squeaked protestingly, and maintained that relaxed, carefree smile that was already beginning to seem like his natural state to me. He looked at us as if we were asking him about the weather forecast and not about supernatural abominations that devour people.

-Ah, that.

He said, rocking gently in his chair, interlacing his fingers over his stomach.

-Well, the government has an interesting theory cooking about it. The scientists and the mystics have been at each other's throats, but there seems to be a consensus.

He paused dramatically, probably for effect, enjoying our attention.

-Most likely they are monsters born of human fear.

We looked at each other. Chia arched an eyebrow.

Okay, that sounded... charming. And terribly problematic.

-Fear? -I asked. So we created them?

-Exactly.

He replied, nodding.

-They are physical manifestations of the collective psyche. If enough people are afraid of something... poof, it shows up.

-Curiously.

Arcadio continued, like someone giving a curious trivia fact at a boring party to break the ice.

-Colombia is doing quite well in that respect. We are a resilient country, or maybe we are just so used to real horror that we are no longer afraid of imaginary monsters. We don't have so many problems with monsters of the law here.

He stood up and walked to the window, looking out at the gray city beneath his feet.

-But I've heard that in Asian countries it's much more common. Over there the social pressure, the stress, the urban legends... it all feeds these things. In fact, it's so common that the Colombian government, in an attempt to look good diplomatically and fortify its relationship with Korea, wants to send gifted people to help there.

He turned to us and shrugged, downplaying the importance of sending us to the other side of the world to fight living nightmares born of someone else's anxiety.

-Well, it's not decided yet, though. It's just a draft on some bureaucratic desk. But if I were you, I'd practice saying "hello" in Korean, just in case. Annyeonghaseyo and all that.

Then Arcadio returned to his desk, leaned back in his chair again, folded his hands behind his head and looked at us with an expression that oscillated dangerously between cold scientific assessment and.... Was that a flirtatious look?

No. It couldn't be. I refused to believe it.

-You know.

He said, slurring the words with a half-smile, that smile that portended trouble.

-I was thinking about what you told me a while ago. About your... manly past. That former life as a boring guy.

Chia tensed up next to me. I could feel the temperature around her drop a couple of degrees. I gritted my teeth, expecting another fit of hysterical laughter or some derisive comment about our existential identity crisis.

But Arcadio didn't laugh this time.

He scanned us up and down, cheekily, nodding with slow approval, as if he were inspecting a used car that turned out to have a Ferrari engine under the rusty hood.

-Honestly, I don't care.

He blurted out with astonishing coolness, as if he were choosing what to have for lunch.

-I mean, biology is capricious, isn't it? Magic is a mystery. And at the end of the day, the results speak for themselves.

He leaned across the desk toward us, lowering his voice to a tone that was meant to be seductive, or at least charming.

-And let me tell you, as an impartial observer... they looked pretty good. The change suited them wonderfully. If I didn't know the context, if I didn't know that a week ago they shaved their beards... I'd even dare to invite them to dinner.

He paused, looking at one of us and then at the other.

-Or both of us. Why limit yourself? I'm an open-minded, modern man.

The silence in the office was absolute. It was so thick you could cut it with a knife. You could hear the buzzing of a fly and the distant traffic on Carrera 7.

Chia turned pale, her eyes widened like saucers. I felt my breakfast churn in my stomach and a surge of warmth rose up my neck.

Was she flirting with us? After laughing at our misfortune?

Suddenly, Arcadio couldn't take his own joke any longer and let out a thunderous laugh, slapping the table with his open hand.

-For God's sake, you should see their faces!

He exclaimed, wiping a tear of laughter from the corner of his eye.

-They're terrified! They look like they've seen a ghost!

We stood blinking for a second, processing the information. Disbelief gave way to understanding. He was mocking. Again.

And then, confusion turned to pure, simple, distilled volcanic anger.

-A joke?

Chia hissed. Her voice sounded like the crack of an iceberg breaking. The temperature in the room dropped ten degrees all at once, fogging the window panes. Frost began to climb up the legs of the desk.

-Shock therapy? You think that's funny?

I growled. My hands began to glow with an intense heat, an orange glow that lit up the gloom of the office. The air around me began to vibrate from the thermal distortion.

Without warning, without the need to coordinate verbally, and in perfect sisterly (or clone, or whatever we were) synchronicity, we reacted.

Chia raised a hand and threw an ice stalactite, sharp as a diamond razor, straight at his face. She was aiming for blood.

And I, at the same time, fired a concentrated fireball, a burning plasma projectile, into her chest.

Any normal human would have died. Or at least would have ended up seriously wounded.

But Arcadio was not normal.

He didn't even get up from his chair.

With a fluid, almost lazy movement, like someone shooing away an annoying fly, he tilted his head to the left just in time.

It was a matter of millimeters.

Chia's ice stalactite whizzed past his ear, clipping a few hairs, and took his hat, pinning it to the wall behind him with a thud that rattled the concrete.

At the same time, he swung his torso to the right, with surprising flexibility for a bureaucrat, letting my fireball brush past the bangs of his roan and scorch the back of his expensive leather chair. The smell of burning leather filled the room instantly.

-Whoa, whoa!

He shouted, raising his hands in surrender, but still laughing, with that damned smile on his face.

-Careful with the decorations! It's rent! This is coming out of my pocket!

We didn't stop. Anger was driving us.

Of course, we didn't want to kill him. The paperwork for murdering a government official would have taken forever, and deep down, deep down, we liked the guy. He had charisma.

But we were determined to teach him a painful lesson; a couple of second-degree burns or a good icy smack seemed like more than just, karmic even, revenge for his tasteless prank.

Chia, her eyes glowing an intense icy blue, almost white, launched another blast of icy wind and ice shards.

I charged my fists and fired a continuous tongue of flame, like a human flamethrower.

Arcadio, seeing that the thing was serious and that his physical integrity was in danger, jumped to his feet.

The air around him began to swirl visibly.

Using his wind powers, he began dodging around the office with supernatural agility. The ruana fluttered around him like an Andean superhero's cape as he didn't run, but glided. He spun and rotated on himself to escape each attack by millimeters, as if he were dancing an invisible waltz with the air currents.

-Be still! Beasts!

He would say, propelling himself with a gust of compressed wind to leap over a jet of flame that melted the carpet, and swerving through the air with impossible acrobatics to avoid freezing his feet.

-It was a compliment to his versatility! Don't kill me! I'm a valuable national resource!

Papers flew all over the office like confetti in a hurricane. Pictures were falling off the walls. A lamp exploded.

Finally, after we nearly set his mahogany desk on fire and froze his ornamental plant to the core, we stopped.

We were panting, our chests rising and falling from exertion and adrenaline. Steam was rising off my skin and Chia's breath was condensing in the cold air.

Arcadio, who miraculously didn't have a scratch on him, landed softly on his feet. He shook some imaginary dust off his shoulder and looked at us with an even wider, almost proud smile.

-Wow.

He said, looking at the mess in his temporary office. Burned walls, frozen floor, overturned furniture.

-They have character. I like that. That's good in this business.

He walked to the wall, pulled his hat off the ice stalactite that still held it and put it on.

-And aim... well, the aim we can work on. A little more to the left and I would have been hit.

Then, with an astonishing naturalness that bordered on psychopathy, Arcadio adjusted his ruana over his shoulders, dusted off his jeans and changed the subject, as if we hadn't just tried to turn him into a mixed human skewer of fire and ice.

-Anyways, already knowing that they used to be men?

He said, ignoring our murderous looks that promised a second round of pain.

-And assuming that adapting to this whole business of being women, with all that it implies socially and physically, must be, to say the least, complicated and uncomfortable... I took the initiative to call a friend.

Chia and I bristled again. The tension rose again.

-Did she tell anyone else?

Chia demanded, stepping forward, her voice rising an octave in indignation.

-Don't you know how to keep a secret?

-Why did you do it, Arcadio? -I added, annoyed, feeling the confidence cracking. It was supposed to be confidential.

Arcadio waved his hand, playing it down with a dismissive gesture.

-Please, girls. Don't be dramatic. The government already knows all about your situation. How do you think your new papers came out so quickly? Magic? Well, yes, but bureaucratic magic.

He made an exaggerated hand gesture.

-What's the problem? Besides, she's here to help them. She's reliable. Believe me, you need her. Not only to orient you to your new gender and keep you from making embarrassing mistakes, but to help you better integrate into the volunteer forces. She will explain how it all works from the inside.

-And why don't you do that?

I asked, skeptical, crossing my arms over my chest.

Arcadio smiled broadly, showing all his teeth.

-Me? Explain things? Be patient? Nah. It's a lot of work. And I'm not good at empathy.

Chia crossed her arms, looking at Arcadio with an expression somewhere between amused and exasperated. She didn't know whether to punch him or applaud him.

-Unbelievable.

She said, shaking her head, making her hair move.

-The man literally admits he's too lazy to do his job and doesn't even have the decency to look embarrassed.

I let out a nervous chuckle, joining in the mockery. The anger was dissipating, replaced by resignation to Arcadio's personality.

-It's a talent, really. Managing to rise to a position of power only to delegate absolutely everything that requires real effort.

I looked at Arcadio with false admiration.

-I should write a book: "How to be successful while being incredibly lazy and manipulative."

-Chapter One.

Chia continued, playing along with my game, sarcastically.

-Get competent friends to do everything for you while you drink coffee.

-Chapter two.

I added.

-When confronted, smile and act like it's all part of a master plan incomprehensible to mortals.

-Chapter three.

Chia held up a finger.

-Repeat until you get to the top without lifting a finger, except to sign checks.

Arcadio listened to us through the whole spiel with that relaxed, satisfied smile on his face, as if our teasing were the best compliments he'd gotten in years.

When we finished, he simply leaned back further in his chair, folded his hands behind his head and his grin widened until it resembled that of the Cheshire Cat.

-Are you done?

he asked with astonishing calm.

-Because everything they said is true, absolutely true, and I don't see the problem. What's more, I'm flattered by your powers of observation.

He shrugged his shoulders with total nonchalance.

-Efficiency is not in doing everything yourself, girls. That's amateurish. True efficiency is in knowing who to ask to do it for you. And so far, my system is working perfectly. Look at me, I'm here, alive, in charge and with you guys taken care of.

We stared at him, dumbfounded. The guy had just confirmed everything we had said with the utmost brazenness and without a hint of shame. He was incorrigible.

Just at that moment, three dry knocks sounded at the door.

-Come in!

Arcadio answered immediately, before we could object or ask who it was.

The door opened slowly and a woman entered.

And she was not just any woman. She was impressive.

She had slightly tanned skin, like golden cinnamon from the sun, and black, straight, shiny hair that fell down her back like a waterfall at night, but with strange green shimmers when the light hit it.

But her eyes... her eyes were the most striking. Vivid green, like 2 shimmering emeralds.

She wore simple clothes, but moved with a natural elegance, as if floating.

-Chibu yswa.

He greeted, in a serene, melodic voice that made the air in the office vibrate, instantly calming the remaining tension from our fight.

It was strange, but I noticed how the scorched plant in the corner, the one we had frozen and burned a few minutes ago, seemed to stretch slightly toward her, its leaves regaining their green color at the mere sound of her voice, healing.

The woman looked at Chia and me with a soft, motherly but powerful smile.

-My name is Zulia. I am gifted and my link is with nature. Arcadio told me you needed... guidance.