THE GREEN BEETLE

One person is missing, said Antônio, looking at the bowl where the corn was still giving off steam. Ilva pulled the pot to the centre of the table. Nael was sorting out the hard grains with his fingertips, making two small portions on the cloth. The house had held heat since the afternoon. In the yard, the leaves of the lowest buriti were turned inwards, showing their dry undersides. A green beetle struck the duct fixed to the eaves and fell on its back, struck again, fell again. The kitchen panel kept open the datacenter consortium's requirement. Third independent witness by the following dawn. Without one, the visit to the route would be deauthorised and Antônio's guarantee would pass to the administrative account. Eighteen hours, he said. Seventeen now, she answered. Nael blew on the corn in his palm and left the paler grains in Ilva's bowl. The reinforcement in the sandal made his foot land carefully on the floor of hardened clay. Antônio saw the movement and lowered his eyes to the table. That month, people were already cooking before dark so as not to compete for current with the cooling pumps. The moths too had changed their hour. They came early to the kitchen lamp, burned their wings on the hot ring and left a fine powder over the sink. Antônio divided the corn into three plates. He kept the portion where the flour had stuck to the bottom of the pot. Ilva moved the food around without bringing it to her mouth. Divina won't do, he said. She's tied to the sampling with me. Edna is of interest to the operation. Osmar erases what he sees. Nael raised his eyes. The word stayed among the three of them, heavy as a wet utensil. Osmar could enter the licensed polygon and validate presence, but his visor fed the harmonisation that swapped hollow stone for low density. Antônio knew the man from crossing the street, from his asking for ice when the bar could still sell food. He knew too the way he passed in front of a house without raising his head. There are people from outside, said Antônio. Ilva stopped her spoon. The audited message lit up again in the corner of the panel. The man from the other town was asking whether she would let him in. The recording kept his breathing before the question, a delay the network had classified as noise and kept by mistake. He doesn't know the path, said Nael. Does he need to, asked Antônio. The consortium wanted a body without contractual link and a presence authorised by whoever had made the declaration. The man fit the rule because he did not yet belong to Buritaçu. He fit her house too, if she opened the threshold and accepted that the visit would be measured, recorded, used against the three of them. Ilva brought the plate to her mouth. The corn had already hardened. You want to bring him into this, asked Antônio. Outside, a tiny bird pecked the earth under the buriti and gave up after three tries. Nael followed its short flight to the digital fence, where the blue line pulsed among the grasses. The panel reduced the deadline by a minute. Ilva heard the man's voice again, low in the kitchen. I'll arrive before the sun, said the voice.