Mr. Duncan

"This is 'Kuku,' a German Shepherd I brought back to the veteran's hospital from the trenches ten years ago." "This is 'Mira,' the rabbit. She grins when you feed her carrots!" The interviewee cheerfully introduced the inspiration behind his two patches, though the reality of them doesn't seem to match his enthusiasm.

An arcanum-modified weapon issued to the interviewee by the Zeno Brazil branch, intended to replace traditional tranquilizer guns.

As a blowgun, it boasts reliable performance; as a musical instrument, it can also help pass the time in retirement.

A new invention assembled from scrap metal collected over multiple days and nights, showcasing both skill and an eccentric taste.

"Living in the favelas isn't all bad; at least there's a scrapyard with a door that's always open, and they don't charge us a penny!" the interviewee says with a cheerfulness that belies his age.

Despite its lively reputation, São Paulo in the '90s was facing the melancholy and confusion that followed the end of the carnival and its own fading prosperity. Enthusiasm had faded, while the rich remained obscenely wealthy, the poor crowded into the world's largest slum.

Here, the first skill people learned was survival. Not even the basics like electricity, sewage and water facilities were regularly available, so it would flood drastically during the rainy season; infant mortality rates were alarmingly high; and hungry youths with nowhere to go would fall into gangs. Despite the gloom, the favelas continued to face a population boom.

The urban poor lived here with difficulty, yet bravely. Despite everything, they remained passionate, lively, optimistic, and ever restless. They faced the challenges and opportunities that came after hitting rock bottom with optimism and remained hopeful for an unclear future.

Perhaps they still believed that a hero would appear and bring a glimmer of life to this land—even if it was just a burst of joyous laughter.

The guys suggested I keep a diary. It's not my thing, but I'll do it to pass the time.

January 14th, today I saw a kid getting beaten up by a few others at the veterans' home entrance. I thought about helping, but he tripped them up with a rope and a dead knot, then made a clean getaway! Using wits to overcome adversity, he reminds me of my own childhood.

March 22nd, I received an obituary for Teo. The old man went first. How many years has it been since I met that fresh-faced kid in the expeditionary force?

May 8th, the TV's reporting another crackdown in some jungle, glorifying the achievements of the army. Pathetic. They completely ignore the real situation, just wantonly suppressing the resistance. That said, even if they let the guerrillas go, they wouldn't have anywhere to escape to, so it would be pointless in the end. But their will to survive and their honor won't be in vain.

June 30th, the guys said today is my birthday. I didn't even remember! I've been living here for so long now, and though it's quite comfortable, I'm always idle. I feel like I could still do more. If only I were a few years younger. Damn it, Duncan!

Mr. Duncan: This is a wine glass made from half a light bulb. It gives the wine an especially sweet kick. Here, give it a try, ha-ha!

Pandora Wilson: These little gadgets are interesting, but I'd rather talk about you.

Mr. Duncan: Ah, there's nothing too interesting about old Duncan.

Pandora Wilson: I disagree. You must have some glorious stories, perhaps something from your accomplishments during your military days.

Mr. Duncan: Forget it; there isn't any story there.

Pandora Wilson: Forgive me, but you don't get those medals without doing something worthy of a story.

Mr. Duncan: Take it from me—these things aren't even worth the tin they're made of. Let alone losing my wife.

Mr. Duncan: I had a comrade who entrusted his daughter to me in his dying breaths, not knowing she was already gone. What good are medals measured against the regrets they were purchased with?

Pandora Wilson: Many soldiers never receive the rewards they deserve; some call it unfair.

Mr. Duncan: So what? They'll still grow old, and life goes on. The days at the veterans' home may be dull, but at least I can still tinker with these little things.

Pandora Wilson: It sounds like you've moved on from the past.

Mr. Duncan: Ha-ha, I've said that to others too. I ...

Mr. Duncan: Hey, are you just trying to trick me into blabbing on about my old stories?!

Pandora Wilson: Apologies, it's just part of the interview process.