THE WHITE TIP

Valdo came back forty-seven minutes after first light. The red band had gone from his arm, and the reservoir stayed strapped to his back, empty, still belonging to the rental company. He left it in the yard without touching the valve. Then he went into the bar and placed on the table two small boxes of thermal food, crushed at the edges. I delivered six, he said. Nael counted the boxes that had come back. They refused these. Why. The reading said my body heated the load. Valdo's shirt was dark at the back. The open line by his neck had bled again, forming an irregular crust. He had carried the boxes in his arms along the stretch the vehicle could not cross. The route Nael had given ended in front of a wall of cut earth. On the other side was the provisional station. Valdo had gone down into the ditch, passed the six boxes across one by one and climbed out clinging to the dry roots. Ilva took the cover off the planted bowl. The crack now reached the seed. No sprout. She put the cover back and pushed one of the open portions towards Valdo. That's Antônio's, said Nael. If he comes back today, I'll give him mine. You don't have any. Valdo sat down. The table was higher on one side, and one of the refused boxes slid until it knocked against his wrist. The surface of the packaging indicated disposal due to thermal contact. Inside were compact bars of cassava, salt and cultivated protein, food enough for two days on the road. The wrapping was still sealed. Ilva brought the wooden spoon close to the edge, without opening it. If it went bad for the machines, it'll do for people, said Valdo. It'll do until the inspection finds it. He pulled the box back. He was not hungry enough to lose the right to come in there. Nael took the light stone from the sill and placed it in the middle of the table. Valdo found the dark one in his pocket, covered in dust from the ditch, and set it down beside it. For many years, the two of them had bet rain for company. The loser lingered in the bar, helped turn the dough, listened to Antônio tell again the same move on the old field. The predictive machine had eliminated chance without ending the game. You knew the passage ended, said Valdo. I knew. And you sent me through it. I sent you through the one that doesn't sink under weight. Valdo squeezed the refused box. The thin wall gave under his fingers and recovered its shape. The other was shorter. It was. The silence gained three minutes. Outside, a tracking camera followed two children running after the shadow of a bird. When they left its range, the lens turned back to the door of the bar. Valdo opened the reserved portion. He ate one grain, then another. On the third, he broke the dry dough with his teeth and left half on the table. At the lower bend there was a buried vehicle, he said. Only the roof showed. Nael turned the light stone over. The dark side faced up. That's where I opened the way for the first survey. Ilva stayed by the stove. She knew that Nael had been paid by the metre, that he had pointed out hollow stones, that he had shown where the machine could go in without tipping over. Valdo was missing that piece. During the delivery, he had found in the cut of the earth a row of old stakes, eaten by rust, and recognised the same direction the man had hidden with his foot in the yard. The stakes pointed to your yard, said Valdo. I sold. Now sell half to me. Nael raised his face. If you keep giving me pieces, one day I'll go in where you don't want and carry a box on top of someone. Nael pushed the dark stone towards him. At dusk, I'll show you the two bends on foot. Valdo did not take the stone. And then. Then you choose without asking me. That leaves me owing. It does. What do you want. Nael looked at the covered bowl, at Antônio's portion and at the empty place behind the counter. He took a sealed bar out of the refused box and set it in front of Valdo. When Antônio comes back, you bring him here. Without charging for the ride. Valdo ran his thumb over the wrapping. Antônio might come back that day or many weeks later, along a road that raised its price as the passenger got closer to home. If I still have a vehicle. With whatever you have. Valdo picked up the dark stone and closed his hand. Then you come with me today. The whole way. Nael nodded. One would carry the memory the other had sold, the other would bring home a man who had not yet chosen to return. In the yard, under the bowl, the seed's husk had opened. A white tip was advancing through the dry earth, curved and thin, searching for the spoonful of water that was no longer there.