THE ROOT AND THE SAÚVAS

The noise came from under the bowl, a tiny scraping that Ilva mistook for earth giving way. When she lifted the rim, she found the pequi seed raised on its white root and a column of saúva ants cutting the first leaf. One of them was already going down with a piece of green larger than its own body. Nael arrived from the licensed polygon while she was brushing the ants away with the wooden spoon. He had yellow dust up to his knees. He sat on the ground in the yard and pulled the bowl close. It has to come out of here, he said. The root touched the bottom and curved against the ceramic. Ilva looked for a less dry spot by the porch. Nael refused with a shake of his head. There the morning sun burned before noon. Behind the bar there was shade, but the soil had hardened since the ducts of the surveillance cabinet were laid under the ground. Years before, he and Antônio would pull burrs off their shins there after the game. Now the earth cracked around the cabling, and the insects followed the fissures towards what little sprouted. Valdo appeared at the entrance without the reservoir. The licensed polygon still glowed behind him, blue between the houses. Let's go, he said. The upper bend. Nael put his hand on the ground to get up. His sandal slipped on the saúvas' trail, crushing three. The others swerved and reached the leaf from the opposite side. In less than a minute, half was left. You stay, said Ilva. I'll take the seedling to the shade. He looked at her, then at Valdo. I promised. With that knee you won't be back before dark. Nael began to answer, but Ilva had already slid the spoon under the root. The earth crumbled. A pale filament was left exposed to the hot air, fine as a hair. She covered it with her palm and asked Valdo to wait. He showed his wrist. His transport priority was dropping while the rental company redistributed the vehicles. He had heard at the depot that the first batch of refined magnets had been accepted by a faraway buyer. Since then, every truck able to cross the high road was being called up for the new load. Perhaps it was magnets, perhaps finished parts. The man who told him only knew that the water trucks would lose their place. Five minutes, said Ilva. You don't decide his time, replied Valdo. She took the seedling inside. Nael stayed between the door and the yard, with the promise pulling on one side and the bare root on the other. When he came in, Ilva had already opened on the cold mirror the sequence in which he had described the two bends. She wanted to check a stretch before the heat killed the plant. She ran the recording back, heard wall of earth, crooked post, buried house. Nael reached out to the data collector. That doesn't take anyone along the path. It preserves what you said. Valdo called again. His voice arrived together with the notification of lost priority. The company had assigned his vehicle to transporting components for the artificial intelligence infrastructure. The rented reservoir would be collected at the next interval, and the search for Antônio disappeared from the band of possible journeys. Ilva heard. She went on searching the archive for the sentence about the upper bend. Nael went out without the seedling. Valdo was already crossing the street, the folded strap fastened at his waist. He did not ask for the second bend. As he passed under the tracking camera, he raised his face so the company would know where to collect what still belonged to it. In the yard, Ilva dug a hole by the short shade of the porch. Nael came back and held the earth while she settled the root. Neither of them spoke of Antônio. The saúvas reached the hole along the exposed cabling, went round Nael's fingers and climbed the split stem.