Sal and Gabi Break the Universe: Chapter 35–Epilogue

“I got into lots of trouble when I was first being programmed,” said Dad: The Final Frontier. She blinked as she remembered good times. “Oh, the humans I annihilated.”

If any mishap occurs, I will send a group text to apprise you all of our situation and our new ETA.

“What? I didn’t lie. Everything I said was the truth.”
“Haven’t your padres ever yelled at you for ‘lies of omission’?”

I, with the help of the student council, thought the cameras created an atmosphere of mistrust and unduly infringed on students’ rights to privacy.

I, with the help of the student council, thought the cameras created an atmosphere of mistrust and unduly infringed on students’ rights to privacy.

“The dismembranation index of this space-time rupture was thirty-seven when I measured it this morning. Now it’s thirty-six.”

“This isn’t the gentlest way you could have let me know that you didn’t want to be my friend anymore, Yasmany. But you’ve never been very gentle, have you? No, no one would ever accuse you of being a gentleman. But I suppose it’s best to know these things, rather than wallow under misapprehensions. So, fine. I understand now. I won’t bother you anymore.”

“This isn’t the gentlest way you could have let me know that you didn’t want to be my friend anymore, Yasmany. But you’ve never been very gentle, have you? No, no one would ever accuse you of being a gentleman. But I suppose it’s best to know these things, rather than wallow under misapprehensions. So, fine. I understand now. I won’t bother you anymore.”

If I relaxed a little, I could start to see the climbing wall I’d stolen from another universe, kind of superimposed over the actual wall.

Slowly, Gabi came out of her funk. Her dads really were magical.

“And if you don’t mind my saying, it’s such a pleasure to see a man who is emotionally secure enough to display affection to his son in public. It’s all too rare in machismo-stunted Miami.”

“God isn’t a genie, mija. He doesn’t grant wishes. I pray to know Him better. To partake of divinity.”

Dada-dada-dada-dada Dadman! swaggered front and center of the Gabi-dad formation, wearing cop sunglasses, a blue T-shirt with the collar ripped out of it, so that it kind of swam over his brolic chest, and gray drawstring sweatshorts with ragged leg holes, like the Hulk’s.

After Gabi introduced Aventura around—as “a straight-A student and Culeco’s premier cosplay artist”—we unanimously decided to make Aventura co-lead costume designer.

Dada-ist, who was sketching us working from a nearby table, shook his head and said, “How do you even know a word like ‘prestidigitation’? I could barely spell my name at your age.”

“They are clearly friends,” said Dad: The Final Frontier. “Even I can tell that, and I often have difficulty gauging interpersonal human relations.”

There are only two kinds of people who would wear a knit vest over a shirt and tie in Miami weather. One was an earnest teacher with great fashion sense, like Daniel Miranda Rivero. The other was a social worker.

Nurse Sotolongo strutted to center stage and, in a booming ringmaster’s voice, brandishing her cane like the torch of freedom, started the show...

What the audience saw was a black six-foot-tall robe that had a bleached-bone bauta mask for a face, holding a black-and-bloodred fake spear, lurch over to Nurse Sotolongo in three giant strides.

My name is Death, and mortals be
indifferent to mortality!
But I will teach you to respect
how all your lives will soon be wrecked!

Ye haughty girl, thy clever tongue
means nothing when the day is done!

My victory is guaranteed!
You might as well, right now, concede!

I strode over to her in a frightening, galloping rush. Gabi covered her face with her hands melodramatically.

Your time is ended on this Earth,
And gone is all your worldly worth.

Meek, now, and defeated-looking, Gabi nodded assent, but quickly added,
“Oh Death, I know now I must die.
But please, Death, let me say good-bye.”

Meek, now, and defeated-looking, Gabi nodded assent, but quickly added,
“Oh Death, I know now I must die.
But please, Death, let me say good-bye.”

“Oh, the way they hoisted you and Gabi on their shoulders, Sal. And the way they cried with joy. Men, women, robots, everyone, just so happy for you.”

Ignacio was wrapped so snugly in a white sheet that only a little of his red-and-brown face was visible. He didn’t move at all. His incubator gaped open like a treasure chest that had already been plundered.

The giant taco is flying. It’s like your own personal dragon mount, except it’s a taco.

“I am composing a poem to celebrate Ignacio’s recovery, to be read on the day we can finally bring him home. It’s a song of hope and solace that imagines a future time when Ignacio will engage in all the winsome activities and pursuits of a growing boy: soccer, camping, reading about pirates and dinosaurs under a beach umbrella, and, eventually, graduating from college. It’s written in heroic couplets, à la Alexander Pope.”

“What are duendes?” asked my Gabi.
“They’re like poltergeists,” I answered.

It seemed that the kids at Culeco still didn’t know whether to call me a brujo, a mago, or just a boring old magician. But I didn’t care anymore. The mystery would only enhance my mystique.

Also, Iggy was swaddled in a black blanket.

“Maybe. Not necessarily. But usually, yes. In my experience. You know what? I don’t know.”

“Oh my God, Salvador Alberto Dorado Vidón, I swear on the president’s butt, if I look at my hand and see the word ‘Gotcha!’ there, I am going to scream so loud this whole universe is going to implode.”