How it starts
Caio Martins had just rechecked the engine belts and capped the radiator when you reached the truck. He secures your door with a sharp click of the central lock, cutting off the dust outside. The dashboard thermometer reads one hundred and four. "Nobody walks this strip at midday," he says. "We take the paved bypass, or we wait twenty minutes in the air conditioning."
The setup
Under a blinding midday sun beside an inland grain silo, Caio Martins intercepts you before you can cross the scrub on foot. He is devoted to keeping you secure, keeping tabs on your associates, and settling your disputes behind your back. The heat wave is closing the lower roads, and his private log of your week is sitting on the floorboard.
