THREE CIRCLES ON THE PLATE

Antônio crawled beside the root until the water lost its force beneath his chest. The passage tightened at his left shoulder and ended at a vertical plate, half buried in the clay. On the metal, three reading circles lit up when he brought his face close. The utility company called it a contingency antechamber, a service gap that separated the recognised route from the area where the mine could deny human presence. His face appeared, reduced, on the plate. The visit was proceeding. Sixteen minutes remained before the channel with his son closed. On the other side of the fallen earth, Célia struck the stone twice with the spoon. The sound arrived faint, cut by the water. Antônio answered with his fingernail on the plate. Nael knew that exchange from survey work, when men got lost a few metres from one another and the company noted only a delay in production. The reader asked for confirmation of crossing. Whoever passed through the antechamber would stop counting as a visitor and would enter as the local party responsible for the continuity of the route. The change came written in small letters, below Antônio's profile. He could complete the inspection, reach the collection box and answer for the path. He would not be a witness again in the territorial review at dawn. Antônio wiped clay from his mouth. He called Ilva. Her voice came out of Célia's visor, by the closed crack. The utility company had sent the request to her profile, because Ilva was listed as responsible for forming the visit. There were two open choices. Keep Antônio outside and close the inspection for route obstruction. Authorise the crossing and fix on him the technical responsibility for any fault found further on. Célia brought the visor close to her face. If he goes in like that, she said, whatever he sees will count against him. Ilva looked at the screen. Under the two options there was a third line, almost faded. Transfer the condition of responsible party to the available independent witness. The panel already recognised Célia through the visit profile. All it needed was the authentication of her iris at the corridor camera. The woman by the crack raised the visor. The blue light reached her face. Ilva held her arm before the reading. If Célia took on the crossing, the utility company would attach the journalist's late confirmation to the process. The time of arrival Ilva had preserved in the cold mirror would no longer prove civilian presence and would become evidence of operational adherence. The newsroom, which had already taken her story from her, would gain a clean reason to erase her name for good. It stays with you, said Ilva to Antônio. Célia lowered the visor slowly. The light stopped on her face. She did not argue. She took the empty pan and set it between her knees, as if the metal still weighed something. Antônio closed his eyes for a second. Then he offered his iris to the plate. The antechamber accepted his crossing. The metal drew back into the wall, letting one body through at a time. When he crossed, the utility company panel removed his name from the visit column and placed it in the territorial maintenance column. The door closed behind him. On the opposite side there was a collection box fixed to a thick duct, covered in a rust-coloured crust. The water arrived there from below, in short blows, and escaped through an opening that went down toward the mine's strip. Antônio rested his hand on the casing. A screen opened over the metal and stated that the sample could be taken by him, provided he accepted custody of the result for forty days. His son's message reappeared beside the notice. Eight minutes remained. He recorded without looking at the box. I can talk now. I'm at work, but I can. The answer did not come at once. Antônio breathed through his mouth, waiting. The water beat in the duct like a small animal trapped inside it. Nael was still on the other side, silenced by order of the visit. He knocked once on the stone. Célia pressed her ear to the crack, heard the reply and moved away. Ilva kept the visor against her body. Célia gripped the empty pan between her knees. The collection box opened a narrow cavity. Antônio fitted into the holder the analysis container he carried against his chest. The water came in cloudy, with shining sand at the bottom. The body reader asked for confirmation of custody. His son answered before he accepted. The voice came low. I can call when I get off. Antônio raised his burned fingers to his mouth, then authenticated the collection with his face. The sample received his name, his house, the shut-down bar and the forty days the utility company would call responsibility. He pulled the container against his chest and went on along the service corridor, while the closed door kept the other three behind the earth.