39. roundup

- Daddy, oh daddy.
- I have my daughter here and she looks like a hippie.
- I'm happy now, daddy.
- The girl's been brainwashed. I need the best deprogrammer you have. The most experient one. Yes, the Juruá-Purus guy. What? Shut up, I'll pay what divisa you ask, just get him here right now.

The solution they found was to make a kind of deprogramming camp. In the middle of the rainforest, Alfredo Kaapor, the deprogrammer, visibly nervous, was trying to coach the tweens to the middle of the clearing. And a visibly nervous person in the middle of the woods sweats like a pig. Kaapor felt sorry his body heat regulator was getting fixed and noticed, not without concern, that those spoiled little tweens, whose entire life had been spent inside a techno, man made cocoon, which probably had no idea what meant a cow, were home at the forest, not minding the mosquitoes at all.
He started the "I want to hear you" banter with a calculated soothing voice.
"What have you got to tell me?"
"I'm a listener..."
"I'm not here to give you rules."
"But I would like to know your encounter's story."
"You must have seen something intense, impressive back there."
"I get interested by the nature of this for I'm a researcher, I'm all about new ideas, new cultures."
Scaringly enough, the self-centered kidlets did not give in to the ego massage. No one said a word. They just stopped laughing together and looked at him with a serious expression. One of the straightest blondiest girls came close to him and offered him a VeriSim media.
- Oh... thank you. - and he thanked her with a Japanese bow, a thing which he knew was fashionable.
And then she said:
- Watch it.