They all stopped. In the middle of the dispute, all the robots that were fighting against us, the resistance, stopped and put down their weapons. Unable to understand such behaviour, I tried to find an explanation, a reason of their sudden proceed. But after looking around me, there was just smoke and destruction, nothing that indicates that cessation of hostilities.
Then it was when I saw her on the inner screen of the helmet. An image slightly blurred and confusing due to the movement of the robot that recorded her, but enough to recognize her. She was the cyborg who took care of me, the one I called mom and then I repudiated when I grew up and understood that she was just a machine and not human like me. She was sat next to the large central computer and a cable was protruding from the back of her neck. The head was tilted and motionless, with one of her hands resting on the cheek. I felt a chill at the sight of the laser impact on her chest. It took me awhile to understand what was happening until I noticed that hand on her face, next to her mouth, that gave a hint of a kiss; I observed the little star, the heart and the different tiny pendants that adorned the bracelet that I gifted her when I was a child. I felt the grief scaling my throat and, taking off my helmet, I couldn´t suppress a gasp with tears. It was then when I realized that a mother is the one who takes care of you, who watches over your sleeplessness and sacrifices herself for giving you a present and a future. She´s able to do it even without being flesh and blood, nor did she have a behavioural protocol installed in her system. She only did it because she was my mother, the only one I have ever met and the only one I will always have.
Six months after that event that I remember now, I no longer hear explosions or bullets whistling around me. The war finished. Now I am sitting at the window of the house and the only sounds are the trill of the birds among the trees, and the rhythmic although soft strumming of my hair with the brush, that one that my mom wields with the usual dexterity after having being repaired.
Pepe Gallego (Translated by Ariadna B. Alonso)
Se pararon todos. En mitad de la contienda, todos los robots que combatían contra nosotros, la resistencia, se detuvieron y bajaron sus armas. Incapaz de comprender semejante comportamiento, traté de buscar una explicación, una causa de su repentino proceder. Pero tras otear a mi alrededor solo había humo y destrucción, nada que indicara su repentino cese de las hostilidades.
Fue entonces cuando la vi en la pantalla interior del casco. Una imagen algo borrosa y confusa debido al movimiento del robot que la grababa, pero suficiente para reconocerla. Era la cyborg que me cuidó, aquella a quien llamé mamá y luego repudié cuando crecí, al entender que era una máquina y no un humano como yo. Estaba sentada junto al gran ordenador central y un cable sobresalía de su nuca. La cabeza ladeada e inmóvil, con una de sus manos apoyada en la mejilla. Sentí un escalofrío al ver el impacto de láser en su pecho. Tardé en comprender lo que ocurría hasta que reparé bien en esa mano que se llevaba a la cara. A la altura de su boca, que esbozaba la forma de un beso, observé la estrellita, el corazón y los diferentes colgantes diminutos que adornaban la pulsera que yo le regalé cuando era pequeña. Sentí cómo la congoja escalaba mi garganta y, quitándome el casco, no pude reprimir un grito ahogado entre lágrimas. Fue entonces cuando comprendí que una madre es quien te cuida, quien vela tus desvelos y se sacrifica por darte un presente y futuro. Ella fue capaz de hacerlo aun sin ser de carne y hueso, ni tampoco poseía un protocolo de comportamiento instalado en su sistema. Solo lo hizo porque era mi madre, la única que he conocido y la única que tendré.
Seis meses después de aquel suceso que ahora recuerdo, ya no escucho explosiones ni balas silbando a mí alrededor. La guerra terminó. Ahora me hallo sentada ante la ventana de casa y los únicos sonidos son el trinar de los pájaros entre los árboles, y el rítmico aunque suave rasgueo de mi pelo con el cepillo, ese que mi madre empuña con la destreza habitual tras haber sido reparada.
Pepe Gallego
I tried to avert my eyes off her but I could not, I was hypnotized. Leaning on the railing of the nightclub, she laughed with her friends while she did not lose any detail of what was happening in the rest of the place, especially the dance floor as it stretched before her like a small lake with heads moving under oscillating lights. I was in a more shadowy side because I never danced. Too much I had done with being pushed by my friends, who forced me to dress contrary to my custom, in addition to picking up my long and tangled hair in a ponytail because they said that otherwise the doormen would not let me in.
I also had to wear a jacket that covered my special edition shirt of Captain America!
Once inside, I took off my coat, untied my ponytail and began to realize that everyone was too well-dressed and my outfit was out of place, but at that point nothing mattered because my attention was focus on her. Someone in full euphoria passing by my side dancing to the music, splashed my glasses with the swing of his glass.
After cleaning them, I put them back on and when I looked towards the booth I was petrified when I saw that her eyes were fixed on me. I looked around expecting to see some of her friends or some "handsome" or "hunk" she was looking at, but there were just distracted people dancing.
With some hesitation, I half-closed my eyes at her and there she was, looking at me. And she smiled...A smile that for a few seconds paralyzed me until I, embarrassed, looked down. I could not understand that she was looking at me.
After reflecting a few moments and drinking a sip of my beer, my brain rode at breakneck speed looking for a logical explanation. Why me? I suppose she was looking at me just out of curiosity, maybe I was not fitting in there. And I would not blame her because it was true, I felt misplaced, I was not used to going to those places. I'm from heavy pubs, beer, reading comics, painting miniatures and going to the club for role-playing games. But my lifelong friends, who did not have those hobbies, decided that I would not stay at home that Friday and they practically dragged me to the disco. Yes, I was sure she looked at me for being the "freak" of the place, so I took a deep breath and looked up again but she was gone. I supposed she had gone to the bathroom, so I took another sip of my beer and turned to see what my friends were doing or talking about, but what I found was her face in front of me. Seeing my obvious mental block, she smiled again and my knees trembled before I heard her saying:
—I like your T-shirt.
I opened my mouth to say something, perhaps to say thank you, but I think it was just an unintelligible reedy voice at the time my cheeks were burning at the growing blush. She laughed, showing her pearly teeth this time before taking a sip of her gin and tonic.
Suddenly, the music changed and, with her eyes wide open, she said:
—I love this song! — And grabbing my hand, she dragged me to the dance floor after her stumbling among the people, although I had time to see the drawing of a star shaved in her hair. Being in the middle of the dance floor, she pointed to my T-shirt then, the back of her head and smiling, she asked:
—Well, you know my name yet. What´s yours?
—Steve Rogers—I replied keeping from laughing and she let out a guffaw. I was pleasantly surprised to see I had understood the mention.
It seems like yesterday and three years ago today I danced, who would have thought it, until my feet hurt. Now, seeing this golden circle between my nervous fingers, I just hope that Estrella accepts to keep dancing with me for the rest of my days.
Pepe Gallego Translated by Ariadna B. Alonso
Intentaba apartar mis ojos de ella pero no podía, me tenía hipnotizado. Apoyada en la barandilla del reservado de la discoteca, reía con sus amigas mientras no perdía detalle de cuanto ocurría en el resto del local, especialmente de la pista pues se extendía ante ella como un pequeño lago de cabezas en movimiento bajo oscilantes luces. Yo me hallaba en una parte lateral más en penumbras porque yo nunca bailo. Demasiado había hecho con ir empujado por mis amigos, que me obligaron a vestirme contrario a mí costumbre, además de recoger mi largo y enmarañado pelo en una coleta pues decían que sino no me dejarían entrar los porteros. ¡Tuve hasta que ponerme una chaqueta que tapara mi camiseta de edición especial del capitán América!
Una vez estuve dentro, me despojé del abrigo, desaté mi coleta y comencé a darme cuenta de que todo el mundo iba demasiado arreglado y mi atuendo estaba fuera de lugar, pero llegado a ese punto ya nada me importaba porque mi atención estaba depositada en ella. Alguien en plena euforia pasando junto a mí bailando al son de la música, salpicó mis gafas con el vaivén de su copa. Tras limpiarlas, me las volví a colocar y al mirar hacia el reservado me quedé petrificado al ver que sus ojos se clavaban en mí. Miré a mí alrededor esperando ver a alguna de sus amigas o a algún tipo “guaperas” o “cachas” al que ella estuviera observando, pero solo había gente distraída bailando.
Con cierto reparo, entorné mis ojos hacia ella y allí seguía, mirándome. Y sonrió...Una sonrisa que durante unos segundos me paralizó hasta que avergonzado bajé la vista. No podía comprender que ella me estuviese mirando a mí.
Tras reflexionarlo unos instantes y beber un sorbo de mi cerveza, mi cerebro cabalgó a velocidad vertiginosa buscando una explicación lógica. ¿Por qué yo? Supongo que me observaba por curiosidad, quizás por no encajar allí. Y no se lo reprocharía porque era cierto, me sentía desubicado, yo no iba a esos sitios. Soy de bareto heavy, de cerveza, de leer comics, de pintar miniaturas e irme al club a echar mis partidas de rol. Pero mis amigos de toda la vida, que no albergaban esas aficiones, decidieron que ese viernes no me quedaría en casa y prácticamente me arrastraron hasta la discoteca. Sí, estaba seguro de que me miraba por ser el “rarito” del lugar, así que respiré hondo y alcé mi vista de nuevo pero ella ya no estaba. Supuse que habría ido al baño, así que bebí otro sorbo de mi cerveza y me giré para ver qué hacían o de qué hablaban mis amigos, pero lo que encontré fue su rostro ante mí. Al ver mi evidente bloqueo, ella sonrió de nuevo y me temblaron las rodillas antes de oírle decir:
—Me mola tu camiseta.
Abrí la boca para decir algo, quizás dar las gracias, pero creo que solo salió un pequeño hilo de voz ininteligible mientras sentía cómo me ardían las mejillas ante el creciente rubor. Ella rió enseñando esta vez su nacarada dentadura antes de dar un sorbo a su gin tonic.
De pronto, hubo un cambio de tema musical y, abriendo mucho los ojos, me dijo:
—¡Me encanta esta canción! —Y agarrando mi mano, me arrastró hacia la pista tras ella dando trompicones entre la gente, aunque tuve tiempo de observar el dibujo de una estrella rapado en su pelo. Llegando al centro de la pista señaló mi camiseta, después la parte posterior de su cabeza y preguntó sonriendo:
—Bueno, ya sabes mi nombre…¿Cuál es el tuyo?
—Steve Rogers —contesté aguantando la risa y ella dio una carcajada. Me sorprendí gratamente al ver que había entendido la referencia.
Parece que fue ayer y hoy hace tres años de aquella noche en la que bailé, quién lo iba a decir, hasta que me dolieron los pies. Ahora, observando este círculo de oro entre mis nerviosos dedos, tan solo espero que Estrella acepte seguir bailando conmigo para el resto de mis días.
Pepe Gallego
You´ll think that the name by which I´m known is due to my appearance of a goat. Well, if you think so in Spain you´re totally wrong but you´re missing very little. Perhaps, before explaining why, it would be better to start by presenting the nature of my being. I am a spirit. Yes, no kidding, I am. I do understand your disbelief, but even if you don´t believe it, there´re may spirits swarming around you and all with different aptitudes. For instance; there´s the fire one, the nature, the wind, also my colleague Dioni, the wine, which is likeable but no one caught him sober. There is also the water, the land and, as you may know, a very long etc …
In my case, what I like the most is to mess up relationships. Yes, I cannot help it. Is just seeing a happy couple and my mouth watering thinking about how I´m going to make an absolute mess, how do I do it? Well, slipping into their consciences.
I whisper to some to suspect that their partners are unfaithful until the paranoia makes them breaking up. I make others to think of the co-worker rather than their wives. There are some who are persuaded with an idyllic and platonic love which they will never find. I deceive many of them into thinking of being more wonderful than they are and I urge them to leave their partner, so that they then crash into the reality and end up moping around completely repentant.
There are buddies who I dupe so that when they see themselves in the mirror, they think that they are Adonis and despise everyone else because they are not up to their excellence. Of course, when in the end they see that they do not even hook up with a warty witch, they end up wandering around dark places sprinkled with neon lights … Friends and Family? Oh, definitely yes, nobody escapes from my Machiavellian plans. Some, I confront each other for money, others I make them to seduce a friend´s boyfriend, to some others I provoke them to discuss about politics, religion or whatever comes to my mind. The fact is to piss them off because, like it or not, I´m happy with that.
But do not judge me wrong because I love twisting life, please. I just do and enjoy it a lot because basically, besides my physical, I am an asshole, a tremendous and authentic asshole. So you know, keep the secret since if you don´t, I´ll be always able to whisper something into the conscience of your partners, and you will not want that, will you? Yes, I´m just imagining you denying it energetically.
Although thinking about it, you have not options because I´ll piss you off anyway. Do not forget that, only I decide when to make a mess, and have no doubt that I´m preparing the next one. Will it be you? I don´t know, but if I were you, I would not be too calm, heh, heh.
Pepe Gallego Translated by Ariadna B.Alonso
They all stopped. In the middle of the dispute, all the robots that were fighting against us, the resistance, stopped and put down their weapons. Unable to understand such behaviour, I tried to find an explanation, a reason of their sudden proceed. But after looking around me, there was just smoke and destruction, nothing that indicates that cessation of hostilities. 
