The economics building had been designed with the blueprints of a prison, his uncle had once explained. It’s a panopticon, see it? The open galleries all around, and in the middle, a surveillance tower. The tower in question was for the elevator, not a guard, but the idea was the same. These guys have some evil minds. Gaspar hardly knew the building, he’d gone there once or twice for a party or to meet up with a girl, but that was all. Still, he didn’t need a map of the place: they just had to get inside and they’d be safe. The police couldn’t go in.

Except, that day, they went in.

Gaspar watched incredulously as a horse struggled up the entrance steps. From the upper windows, people peered out and jeered “motherfuckers, motherfuckers,” and the cops, wearing helmets, made them retreat back into the classrooms by firing gas canisters into the air. Gaspar decided to go inside anyway, and Marita and Hueso followed him. The building was full of people, and a lot of police had entered. They were dragging students out. One girl’s belly was bared, her shirt lifted as she was pulled across the floor, one of her sandals left behind in front of a classroom door. Kids had been handcuffed for resisting, one of them bleeding from his temple. Hueso shouted that the cops couldn’t enter the building, that it’s the law, that this is a bloodbath, and Marita told him to be quiet. They were in a corner, and they watched as the cops went rushing up the stairs, some already entering the classrooms. They were arresting people randomly. Gaspar decided to turn down a narrow hallway he thought he recognized that led to the service personnel bathroom, which was less frequented. When he turned around, he saw they were being followed, at a trot, by two fat cops who looked pretty fatigued. We’re not getting out of here, said Hueso, but Gaspar opened a door with a sign saying PRIVATE that led to a janitor’s closet, then closed it behind them. The three of them were left in darkness, waiting for the cops to open the door. They heard the doorknob rattling, voices cursing. Did you have a key? Marita asked. And Gaspar, in a low voice, said no. More turning of the doorknob, so hard it seemed about to break, a kick to the door and then a shout, and furious footsteps running away. Not yet, said Hueso, though neither of them had tried to leave.