There are more people than I expected. Aside from production there is the safety crew responsible for checking the equipment, a medical team, and a group of scientists keen to explore the Godseye.

A larger bungalow is the mess hall. It is where the crew gather to eat their meals and to plan the rest of the series. There is a large freezer inside the mess hall stocked with food flown from overseas, and the crew has employed several chefs.

But the island is surrounded by fresh seafood, and so I oblige when they ask me for a sampling of the local delicacies. On the days when Askal and I can catch enough fish, their chefs cook them over a makeshift grill. They’re good fish—tilapia, galunggong, bisugo—and it helps endear me to the crew.

I negotiate with other fishermen, and they frequently supply us with other varieties of seafood—curacha, alimasag, and other kinds of crabs on luckier days, but more often squid, green mussels, and mackerel.

The crew offer me an extra tent. I accept but rarely spend nights there. Sick father, I say. Need to look in on him. I live only several minutes away. They are sympathetic.

Askal and I go home and spend time with ’Tay. He sleeps more frequently nowadays, though I know that is normal for his age. I’m not worried about the time I’ll have to spend away from him. My father raised me and Askal after my mother’s death. He’s stubborn enough not to want help from anyone. Runs in the family.

’Tay was delighted when I told him about my new job. The money will be good. The Americans know the risks. It’s not my fault they won’t listen, and it’s not on me to protect them.

While he dozes, and while Askal lies down beside him and does the same, I look at the contract I signed, the one promising me ten thousand dollars if I stay through their filming. It’s more money than I’ve ever expected to have in my hands all at once.

And for a moment, I feel selfish, tempted. There are so many things I could do with this money. Leave the island. Make my own way in the world.

’Tay stirs beside me, and the thought dissipates. Ten thousand dollars can only get you so far. And I’m not going to abandon ’Tay.

But there are far too many people on the island. This will not end well.

“Paano na?” I ask myself quietly, knowing I don’t know the answer to that.

***

“This island is almost perfect,” one of the crew members gushes the next day, when I return. “Add a Panera and I’d be all set. Do you go to school on the mainland, Alon? You speak English so well, and I know there are excellent schools in Leyte for—”

“Harriet,” another woman rebukes sternly, and Panera Lady gasps.

“I didn’t mean that people here can’t speak English well,” she says hastily, unhelpfully. “I know most people here do because of, uhhh, colonialism, right? I wasn’t expecting—I mean—”