DUST CAPSULE

Renan sat on the veranda step with the dust capsule between his feet. The fan in the cabinet kept turning behind the plate, without the knock that had called up his shift, and the heat of early evening already glued his shirt to his back. On the skin of his forearm, the torque wrench had left a purple band. The payment projection stayed open in the low air, where everyone could see it without coming close. The suspended shift brought a new charge. Stability cost for artificial intelligence. The sum took from him the equivalent of a meal and a half, destined for the electrical reinforcement of the machines that trained answers far from there and asked the valley for more mineral. Renan closed his hand over the capsule. Antônio came from the corridor carrying a shallow bowl. Inside were three pieces of cold cassava, scraped from an old pot. The bar's activity remained suspended, but he shared one piece with Nael, another with Ilva, and left the last in front of the technician. Renan looked at the food without touching it. My daughter asked for fruit today, he said. No one answered. Nael chewed slowly, his eyes on the light escaping through the joints of the cabinet. The technician took from his ear the small transmitter where he kept the interrupted song. The child's voice came out once, short, then stopped at the same line as always. He did not fit the device back in. The charge had arrived before her message. Antônio took the piece of cassava that lay in front of Renan and split it with his burned fingers. He gave one half to the technician. He kept the other at the bottom of the bowl. You eat now, he said. Tomorrow you come up with a better excuse for her. Renan let out a dry laugh, without strength to rise above his chest. He ate. His jaw worked fast, as if someone might come to charge for that food too. Célia stayed near the entrance to the corridor. The folding visor was still tucked under her clothes, unlit. She had been following the dust capsule since Renan collected it from the fan. The red crust had come from the cracks of the pit, entered the air of the cabinet, stuck to the moisture of the machines. The same dust that hardened his breathing could receive in the log the comfortable name of internal residue. She went closer. Are you going to hand that in, she asked. Renan looked at the capsule, then at the low projection of the payment. The charge repeated at intervals, obedient. A line of credit for cooling, another for predictive stability, another for the consumption attributed to the operation negotiating to install the datacenter in the territory itself. Renan squeezed the capsule until the red crust marked his palm. Célia touched her index finger to the payment projection, without going through it. Ilva leaned against the wooden column. The short band on her leg had already darkened with earth, but she did not reach for it. She looked at the capsule like someone measuring a container without being able to open it. Renan said the piece did not leave his body. The capsule was service material, linked to the shift that had not yet ended. Célia asked whether he knew what was in the automatic report. He said the model would put together a sequence with temperature, torque, exposure time and recommended conclusion. The word recommended gave a twitch to the corner of his mouth. Nael wiped his fingers on his own trousers. Then he pointed to the capsule and made a circle in the air, small, repeated twice. Antônio understood first. He's asking if the dust stays the same when it dries. Renan answered yes. Lighter, maybe. Easier to fly. Nael left the veranda and came back with an unused metal bowl, dented at one rim. He put it on the ground. Then he sat near it, waiting. He had spent years showing machines where to cut, and now he seemed to be listening to a mineral no one wanted to name near the machines. Célia crouched in front of Renan. Give me twenty minutes, she said. He did not hand over the capsule. She went on. I don't need to open it. I don't need to publish your name. I need to show that the dust came from outside the cabinet and that the charge for the energy has already arrived before the datacenter has. The words stayed between the two of them, hot and exposed. Antônio looked at the dark road beyond the guesthouse. The tracking cameras on the pole followed the movement of the moths. None of them reached the inside of Renan's closed hand. You work for a newsroom that cut your name, he said. I work for what's left of it. And if I lose my access. You've already lost the shift. Renan picked the capsule up from the ground. He weighed it once in his palm. His daughter began singing again on the device forgotten on the step, a thin voice crossing the line and failing before the end. He took the transmitter and left it face down, then held the capsule out to Célia. Twenty minutes, he said. If you give my name, I'll come back for it. She put the capsule in the inner pocket of her clothes, next to the dark visor. She did not promise protection. She tilted her head. Antônio carried the empty bowl inside. Nael stayed looking at the red dust that still marked the mouth of the duct. Ilva went into the corridor behind Célia, but stopped before the bend. Célia went on alone through the narrow passage, with the capsule knocking lightly against her ribs.