UNFED

He first heard his name from Rania. She said she’d heard about him through a network of NGOs in the Middle East. A former negotiator from Mexico.

He’d worked for twenty years between the cartel and the government. He lost his daughter. No one knows where he is now. All they knew was that he was wandering.

Rania asked.

“Why are you looking for him?”

Hoon replied.

“Gong needs something. Protection from external threats. We need someone who knows how to do that.”

Rania thought for a moment.

"I’m not sure if that person would want that role. He’s seen too much violence."

"That’s exactly why we need him."

Rania looked at Hoon. Her eyes asked what he meant.

"Someone who has seen a lot of violence knows best how to protect without resorting to it."

Rania thought about those words. Then she began looking for his contact information.

* * *

It was March when she arrived in Guadalajara.

It was spring in Mexico. It wasn’t hot, but the sunlight was strong. The city was big. Not as big as Seoul, but about the same size as Tokyo. The streets were crowded. There was a market. The smell of tacos filled the air. Mariachi music could be heard from somewhere.

The place where Carlos was staying was a cheap inn on the outskirts of the city. It didn’t even have a name. Just a number. She had tracked down the address through a series of people.

Hoon asked the elderly innkeeper. He told him a Korean man was looking for Carlos. The old man pointed upstairs.

It was the room at the end of the second-floor hallway. Hoon knocked.

There was no response.

He knocked again.

“Who is it?”

It was in Spanish. Hoon spoke in English.

“Rania Al-Rashid sent me.”

There was silence. Then footsteps. The door opened.

It was Carlos Mendoza.

He was fifty-two. Not tall. Rather, on the short side. But there was something about him. The aura of someone who had spent a long time in dangerous places. Vigilance. Calculation. And fatigue.

His eyes moved first. He looked Hoon up and down. He looked down the hallway. He looked toward the stairs. He confirmed that no one was there. Then he looked at Hoon again.

“Come in.”

* * *

The room was small.

One bed. One chair. One table. There was a map on the table. It was a map of Mexico. It had markings drawn on it by hand. It was unclear whether he was planning something or taking notes.

Carlos sat down in the chair. Hoon sat on the edge of the bed.

"How do you know Rania?"

“She’s a coworker.”

“Where?”

“The Philippines.”

Carlos thought for a moment.

"What do you want?"

He didn’t go around. He came straight here. He liked Hoon.

"I need something you know."

"What do I know?"

“How violence works. And how to stop it.”

Carlos looked at Hoon. For a long time.

“What do you do for a living?”

Hoon said.

"It’s a long story."

"I have time."

Hoon began to speak. Carlos didn’t interrupt. Occasionally, he narrowed his eyes. It was hard to tell if he was thinking or doubting. He glanced at the map on the table from time to time. It seemed as though he was comparing what Hoon was saying with what he already knew.

An hour passed.

Carlos asked.

"You’re saying that once AI crosses the singularity, it will control humanity."

"Yes."

“And that means of control is food.”

“The most fundamental means.”

Carlos thought for a moment.

"The cartels use the same method."

Hoon observed.

"To control a village, you first control the market. If you control the routes through which food comes in, the village moves. There’s no need to use any other methods."

Those were the very words in Hoon’s notebook. But what Hoon had written as theory, Carlos knew from experience.

“So I suppose that means the people who don’t need to eat are outside that control.”

Carlos looked at Hoon.

“In theory.”

"In practice, too."

Carlos paused for a moment.

“Is that your condition?”

"Yes."

"How long has it been?"

"It’s been seven months."

Carlos looked at Hoon again. From head to toe. This time was different. At first, his eyes had been gauging the threat. Now, they were gauging something else.

"Can you prove it?"

It was the same question Viktor had asked. But the meaning was different. Viktor wanted scientific proof. Carlos wanted something else.

"How should I prove it?"

Carlos said.

“Just don’t eat anything for three days in front of me. I’ll be watching.”

Hoon looked at him for a moment.

“Here?”

"Right here."

* * *

Three days passed.

Carlos kept his promise and watched over him. He watched Hoon while eating. He checked to see if Hoon was there when he went to sleep at night. He ate everything he had over those three days right in front of Hoon.

Tacos, tortillas, frijoles. The smell wafted through the air. Hoon caught the scent. He knew it was a good smell. But he didn’t feel like eating.

Carlos saw it.

On the third evening, Carlos said,

"That's enough."

Hoon saw it.

“Do you believe it?”

Carlos paused for a moment.

“I want to believe it. But I still don’t know why.”

"The reason?"

“Why you came to me. Why someone like me is needed in that community.”

Hoon said.

“The world won’t just leave Gong alone. Not the AI, not the governments, and certainly not those with vested interests. We have to be able to protect him when that time comes.”

"By fighting?"

"Without fighting."

Carlos looked at Hoon.

“How can you protect it without violence?”

"That’s something you need to figure out. I don’t know. I don’t know anything about violence. You do."

As he heard those words, Carlos looked at the map on the table.

"I had a daughter."

Hoon heard him.

"Sofia. She was eighteen. The cartel took her. I was a negotiator. The negotiator’s daughter."

Silence fell.

“They took her because I was on their side. It was a warning. To make me quit.”

Carlos said, his eyes fixed on the map.

“I quit. But Sofia never came back.”

Hoon said nothing.

“I’ve known for twenty years now how violence works. And that you can’t end violence with violence.”

For the first time, Carlos looked Hoon straight in the eye.

“I don’t know what it means to protect without violence. But I want to learn. You can’t learn that here.”

Hoon said.

“You have to try it for 72 hours.”

Carlos nodded.

“I know. I heard it from Rania.”

"Aren’t you scared?"

Carlos gave a short laugh. It was a dry laugh.

"I’ve negotiated alone at a table with ten cartel executives. Nothing’s scarier than that."

Hoon smiled.

"Then let’s start tomorrow."

* * *

[ Carlos’s Hallucination — 36 Hours ]

It was Sofia.

Eighteen-year-old Sofia. Sofia before she was taken by the cartel. Her hair was long. Her smile was wide. She was exactly as Carlos remembered her.

She was sitting somewhere. It was a bright place. A courtyard. The courtyard of the old house in Guadalajara. Sofia was sitting in the courtyard, reading something. It was a book.

Carlos approached.

Sofia looked up. She saw Carlos. She smiled.

“Dad.”

Carlos heard those words. It was a phrase he hadn’t heard in a long time. Those two syllables unlocked something.

Carlos sat down next to Sofia.

Sofia held out a book. Carlos took it. There was no text. The pages were blank.

“What kind of book is this?”

Sofia said.

“A book I haven’t written yet.”

Carlos heard her say that.

“Are you writing it?”

Sophia shook her head.

"My dad is."

Carlos looked at the blank pages. He touched them with his hand. The paper was soft.

"What should I write?"

Sofia pointed to the yard. There was something at the far end of the yard. People. Lots of people. They were standing there. They were looking at Carlos.

“Write about those people.”

Carlos looked at them. He felt like he recognized them, yet didn’t. They weren’t cartel members. They were different people. They looked like people from another country.

Sofia said.

"You know how to protect us. Now, use it differently."

Carlos looked at Sofia.

"Sofia."

“Yeah.”

“I’m sorry.”

Sofia paused for a moment. Then she said,

"I know. But let's stop this now."

Those words weren’t a command. They were permission.

Carlos knew that.

* * *

Carlos opened his eyes.

He was in a hotel room. Hoon was sitting in the chair across from him. The morning light of Guadalajara was streaming in through the window.

Carlos stared at the ceiling for a long time. Then he said,

“I saw Sofia.”

Hoon listened.

“What did she say?”

Carlos paused for a moment.

“She told me to stop.”

That was all. He didn’t say anything else. Hoon didn’t ask either.

Carlos stood up from his seat. Slowly. It had been three days. He walked over to the table. He looked at the map. Then he folded it up.

Hoon watched.

Carlos said,

"I’m not hungry."

"Okay."

“This is the real thing.”

"It is."

Carlos put the folded map into his bag.

"When are we leaving?"

Hoon said.

"Maybe even today."

Carlos looked around the room. A bed. A chair. An empty table. There was almost nothing. One bag would be enough.

“I don’t have any luggage.”

That was all.

The two of them left the inn. It was a morning street in Guadalajara. Taco stands were opening up. The smell wafted through the air. Carlos walked past that smell. He didn’t look back.

Hoon walked beside him, lost in thought.

Hoon couldn't tell exactly what permission Carlos had received from Sofia. But he knew that he was now walking in a different direction.

Those without burdens travel lightly.

And those who walk lightly go far.