THREE BURITI FIBRES

The marked stone kept in its groove a film of clay the water did not reach. Nael freed it from the weld and went through the gap sideways, pushing first his shoulder, then his hip. The earth scraped his shirt. Célia came after, protecting her wounded foot from the drop, and Ilva crossed last. Antônio was waiting, sitting by the plate, with the analysis container held to his chest. The cloudy water inside it was already separating into two matters, a dark layer at the bottom and a reddish one near the lid. When he saw the three, he stood up too fast and had to rest his hand on the wall. You took your time, he said. Nael pointed to the container and then to the opened passage. The visit still forbade him speech. Antônio understood only half, enough to show his burned fingers and ask whether they looked better. Célia examined them from a distance. They look like two pequis forgotten in the fire. He laughed. Nael too, almost without sound. When they were young, the two of them played ball behind the bar, and Antônio missed the goal every time Nael promised to buy him a drink. The memory came back through Célia's mouth without her knowing. Nael gave a short kick with his foot against a lump of clay. The lump passed between Antônio's legs and fell into the water. Still bad, said Antônio. The laughter lasted as long as it took a beetle to come out of the exposed root, open its wings covered in mineral dust and strike against the plate. Then the insect landed on Célia's shirt. She guided it to a dry crack, where there were three green buriti fibres and nowhere to bury them. The panel fixed in the corridor lit up the four faces. Market news ran along a narrow band. Shares of three rare mineral mining companies had risen with the expansion of revenues in the Western market. Before the band ended, the datacenter consortium attached a demand to the territorial review. The distant buyer wanted the authenticated origin of that sample within that same shift. The utility company, contracted to produce the proof, gave Antônio nine minutes to confirm that the channel belonged to the maintenance area under his responsibility. Without the confirmation, the review would be suspended. The debt of three meals would become an immediate charge, and the two portions without preservation would be transferred to sanitary disposal. Antônio read it once. On the second time, he held the container with both hands. The channel always had a name, said Antônio. Célia lowered her eyes to his burned fingers. The word origin blinked on the panel with a gold border, a distinction the consortium offered to cargoes able to please the buyer without delaying the deal. Antônio pressed his thumb to the rim of the container and took it away when the wounded skin touched the metal. Ilva went up to the sample. If Antônio were to authenticate, the utility company would close the discrepancy opened minutes before. Nael would remain a historical informant, a category that accepted his memory as long as it did not modify the water-use concession. Above them, the preservation of the portions dropped another interval. One of them received a label of probable loss. The other could still be saved if someone reached the guesthouse before the automatic transfer. Go, said Antônio to Ilva. She did not move. She looked at the gap they had come through, narrow and damp. Alone, she would get there faster. She would also leave Antônio before the body reader, with Célia barred from signing and Nael barred from speaking. The deadline lost a minute. Antônio untied the container from his chest and put it on the ground. The screen recognised the sample's removal and warned that custody remained linked to his face. The utility company offered remote assistance to complete the authentication. Behind the offer appeared the name of the holders of the water-use concession and, below, that of the consortium that would pay for territorial priority. Nael picked up the marked stone. He pressed it to Antônio's chest, over the stain left by the container, and then returned it to the mouth of the channel. The ban on speech remained whole. Nael closed his clay-smeared hand and held it against his chest. Six minutes were left when Antônio refused the iris reading by turning his face away. The charge changed at the same instant. Four meals. The first portion received a disposal order, though it was still sealed and edible in the guesthouse. The second gained nineteen minutes of residual preservation. Ilva was already by the gap. Célia took a small flake of clay from her hair and asked whether she could climb up through the diversion. I can. Antônio pushed the container away from the running water. The sample tipped over, rolled to the root and stopped before the edge. He moved forward to hold it. At that moment, the panel opened a new demand. The refusal would be sent to the buyer, but the utility company would accept replacing it with the authentication of whoever had measured the water since the start of the visit. Ilva's name appeared. She saw the offer with her back turned. She pushed her arm into the gap, found a hold in the damp earth and began to climb.