You accept the pamphlet, and with a wave of your hand, you offer a condescending farewell gesture to the sister of Belichology. You follow Isaac past the plaza, and recycle the paper in the corresponding bin. A yellow-armored shell with a pattern of thick black stripes, moving on caterpillar tracks, picks up the bins with its pincers to haul away the waste.
The street is steep; you're heading uphill. From the windows and cornices of the apartments, the flags of Venezuela and the Earth Nations Alliance flutter. You arrive at the grounds of the great university, its campuses separated from the street by ten-meter walls patrolled by police; the arm of the law is always breathing down your neck. Four metal gates serve as entrances and exits, each designated for a specific academic sector: primary, secondary, university, and the last is exclusive to the professors and workers of the Alma Mater. The third and the last of the aforementioned sectors are the only ones exempt from wearing uniforms—an achievement secured through more than a decade of dialectical struggle against the Military Junta and the conservative sectors of society.
Passage through the gates is unrestricted, and there are no documented cases of fools breaking in without permission just for laughs. Civil security and righteousness in Venezuela are proportional to the fear and trust placed in its government.
"Who wouldn't accept a couple fewer liberties in exchange for everything working?" Isaac questions. You know he's always liked swimming with the current. "You have to be realistic about these things, brother."
You follow the cement path. The titan waits to swallow you with its reinforced concrete maw. Wide, Babylonian, having it loom over you is daunting. Attending such a tremendous fortress gives a unique weight to education. Now you understand why there are children bursting into tears in the leveled, separate-plated campuses further down.
You hear shouts.
"Take it, you damn fag!"
"Not in the face!"
On one side of the ramp leading up to the entrance, a scrawny blond boy lies on the grass, surrounded by a quartet of taller, huskier youths, all wearing brown shirts and blue pants. They bear the insignia of the Perejimenizta Youth. They mercilessly beat the young man with batons, and the only thing he can do to defend himself is cover up with his arms and shriek.
"This will teach you not to wear skinny jeans!"
"The world is free and so is fashion!"
"Free wor-? You never learn!"
The one who seems to be the leader of the quartet is swinging his baton with the greatest ferocity. The rest of the students watch, but no one interferes. To the guards on the wall, it's as if nothing strange is happening. The choker and the colorful jacket the scrawny boy is wearing only increase the number of blows he receives.
"Let's keep going," Isaac says.
Intervene (Scene 8)
Enter the university (Scene 9)