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epitome of incomprehensibility
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Mom knows just where to gamble: there's a small island off the coast of Chile with the perfect casino.
Dad objects. What about the environment?
Mom: No, Kirsten can fly.
Dad: But won't she get tired?
I think Chile's a long way away, and I don't know how to get there. So I fly up to the middle of the lake we're at - it appears to be in Laurentian cottage country - and harness the power of the sun. I look at the shining orb and it takes on the appearance of a circle of white paper - not burning, not dazzling, just white. But then a visible light beam comes down to me and I tense my muscles: this means I've got new energy.
Besides, Chile isn't that far after all. Mom knows the way. It's just past the lake and over some mountains (dream_travel can be like that).
In the casino - which looks like a small, unostentatious hotel - Mom buys some white dice from the front desk.
This dice-rolling thing is called Lotto 135 like Quebec's Lotto 649, except here the numbers have symbolism: 1 is for the president, or country leader; 3 is for years in office; and 5 is for being 50 years old. The meaning is that if a president is in their fifties, they'll get more gray hairs from 3 years in office than they did in their whole previous life up until then.
Why this is the name of a gambling game isn't so clear. Also, it's not exactly a lottery, is it?
Regardless, Mom takes the handful of white dice to the table and rolls them. It's a good roll, which lets her go to the desk and collect a handful of yellow dice too. She rolls them all and it's a win! Something in six figures - $135,000? But maybe not. Anyway, it's a big enough amount to be significant, but too small for her to get famous for winning - the perfect sweet spot.
So we can afford to drive back. Mom and Dad take the front seats of the car, and I'm in the back. The person beside me isn't my brother - sometimes she's my cousin Lia, other times my friend Julia. When Lia/Julia is 5, I decide that's an annoying age, so I try to program her to be 22. "Programming" means closing my eyes and thinking about it. I can't tell whether it works that precisely, but she grows up. I grow up. But I still can't drive.
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