During the first few days, Diego barely spoke. He simply watched, with a mixture of love and quiet panic. Every gesture from his mother, every joke from his father, every tiny movement from baby Matías was a treasure he wasn't going to let slip away. But he understood one vital truth: he couldn't tell them the truth.
They wouldn't believe him. They'd take him to a doctor. Or worse.
So, he chose the path of planted ideas, like seeds.
One morning at breakfast, he threw out the first one.
—"What if we play a game? It's called 'survive the apocalypse.'"
Rodrigo laughed mid-bite.
—"Is that about zombies?"
—"Yeah," Diego replied with a faint smile. "But it's not just about fighting. You also have to learn to grow food, cook without gas, find clean water, build shelters..."
Milena raised an eyebrow.
—"And where did you get that from?"
—"I read it. Online. It's fun."
And so the "games" began.
They played at turning off the lights and pretending there was no electricity. Cooked on a small grill in the backyard. Made escape routes around the neighborhood, drew maps, and learned to start fires with a magnifying glass and dry sticks.
Diego, with the innocent mask of a child, led them. And his parents, laughing and curious, began to follow his lead.
One day, he pitched something new.
—"Can we have a house in the countryside? Just in case something happens and we need to hide... It could be part of the game!"
Rodrigo shook his head at first, but Diego insisted. He even started browsing for rural land online with his dad, as if it were just a shared daydream.
He also began looking after their health. And his own.
—"Can we eat more salads? I want to be stronger for the survival games," he said while pushing fries aside.
—"What if we go for walks every day? To train our legs."
—"What if we do yoga? I saw a video where it helps you stay calm when you're scared."
Milena was skeptical at first but eventually gave in. Rodrigo joined in for fun, though he grumbled that yoga felt like medieval torture.
But little by little, without realizing it, they all became healthier. More active. More prepared.
One night, Diego sat next to his dad while he watched the news.
—"Dad... have you noticed how many people could sell things online but don't?"
Rodrigo looked at him curiously.
—"What do you mean?"
—"Like... Mrs. Clara on the corner makes amazing jam, but she doesn't know how to sell it outside the neighborhood. What if you had a website to help people sell things like that?"
Rodrigo laughed.
—"Are you trying to turn me into a businessman?"
—"No, just... saying stuff I think about."
Rodrigo didn't reply, but the next day he googled "how to start an online store."
Every decision was a carefully placed piece.
Every phrase, every suggestion, every "game" was part of a greater plan.
Diego knew the world wasn't going to wait for him. That the future was still out there, lurking.
But this time, when it arrived, it wouldn't find them so unprepared.
And even in the body of a child, he had already begun the war against fate.