THE ALUMINIUM SPOON

The portal's light had already dropped to the local advertisements band when Antônio's profile released the bar's cooking unit. The food activity remained suspended, but the restriction did not reach a pan inside the kitchen, as long as no one projected a price over it. He put the three pieces of cassava in a deep bowl, mashed them with the bottom of a mug and measured one hundred and eighty millilitres from the household reserve. The water came from the tube that had filled the mug in twenty-nine seconds, before the concession found another name for the line. Antônio poured half first. He waited for the cassava to open its fibres. Then he added the rest, scraping the bowl with two burned fingers. Renan stayed seated near the door, with the toolbox between his feet. The dust capsule remained tucked inside his shirt, at the height of his sternum. His daughter's transmitter was not playing. Since the voice had failed at the line, the device gave back only the mute glow of the last route. The cooking unit asked for bodily authentication to release heat. Antônio offered his face. The household panel opened a short bill. Electrical stability tariff. Temporary surcharge for regional processing demand. He looked at the pan and did not take his face away. The cost of a meal had gone up because the datacenter was still only promised. The panel recorded preventive after the tariff. Nael brought an aluminium spoon from the counter and left it by the stove. Then he pulled a chair close to Renan. He did not speak. His speech was still forbidden by the territorial visit, but his silence had the weight of an occupied bench. Célia appeared in the corridor with the folding visor open. The top band of the portal, where the image of the two dusts remained, had been taken over by a utility company notification. Request for supplementary provenance. Capture link. Response window of forty minutes. Renan raised his head. She brought the visor close, without handing over the device. The request demanded the raw data of the image, time, position, nearby devices, professional profiles in the area. The capsule would appear at the first cross-check. Then would come the fan, the suspended order, Renan's shift. Antônio stirred the pan. The mash thickened fast and began to stick to the bottom. He lowered the heat, waited three breaths, added a spoonful of water and scraped the bottom carefully. The cassava released a dark layer. He took that part out and left it on an upturned lid, so as not to mix it with the rest. He lost a portion of food in the procedure. There was no other cassava kept behind the counter. Célia sat on the floor, leaning in the doorway. Her protected foot stayed stretched out beyond the light. She opened the newsroom's options. Hand over origin. Remove image. Keep publication under the mark of content without technical confirmation. The last option would erase the advertisement before the six hours were up. The portal would deduct the purchased display time and reduce the reach of the next story. She had two movement units still caught in the review. The newsroom had already taken her name once. Now it could take the image too. Renan touched the capsule through his shirt. Nael looked at the old filter fixed to the cabinet's air intake. The recent dust was settling on the dust he had breathed years before, when he drove machines along the Lajes. The cabinet blew cold into itself. Outside, the night kept the heat of the dug ground. Antônio divided the cassava into four parts. The largest stayed in the bowl. A smaller one, on the upturned lid. He took the bowl to Renan and handed him the spoon. Eat slowly, he said. The technician held the bowl with both hands. The purple band on his forearm showed beneath his sleeve. He ate the first spoonful without looking at anyone. Célia chose the third option. The image lost the advertisement. The commercial glow disappeared from the visor, replaced by a grey band that said contested provenance. The photo was still there, small, open under risk. The utility company answered before she closed the device. The contestation generated proximity screening for all technical accesses connected to the guesthouse cabinet. Renan's next shift had been brought forward to before dawn. He stopped with the spoon in the air. Célia lowered the visor. Antônio picked up the lid with the burned cassava and carried it outside. Nael stayed by the technician, watching him finish the meal in short spoonfuls. Célia folded the visor, put it away under her clothes and walked to the cabinet, where the old filter was receiving another layer of dust.