THE PEQUI LEAF

The afternoon light came in low over the bar when Valdo's band opened a notice above the counter. He was sitting in front of the refused boxes, scraping a crust of dust off the folded strap with his fingernail. Nael stayed in the yard, near the pequi seedling, shooing saúvas away with a dry twig. The rental company required confirmation of the route by the next interval. Vehicles that used less charge on the climbs would be kept in the supply fleet. The others would go to thermal conversion, lent to the datacenter consortium to carry cooling parts. The band reduced the drawing of the journey to a green line. Valdo's body appeared as the source of the journey, his previous passages would feed the prediction of shorter paths. Eighteen minutes were left. If he refused the reading, the collection of the reservoir would be brought forward. If he accepted alone, the company would treat the wall of earth as his failure and erase the upper bend from the possible route. Valdo raised his face. You know where it goes through. Nael came in slowly, carrying on the tip of the twig a saúva clinging to a torn leaf. He left the insect on the floor, away from the seedling. The pequi had two bitten leaves, one of them hanging by a green thread. Behind the bar, where he and Antônio used to run after the ball, the ground stayed hard over the buried cables. The mining had taken away the oldest shade, then came the ducts and the datacenter, with its machines learning to spend less electricity in order to ask the earth for more ore. Valdo's band cut the deadline by another minute. Show the bend, said Ilva. He looked at the back of the bar, where the cold mirror was still open on the recorded sequence. The old screen kept his voice saying crooked post, wall of earth, buried house. The utility company could not reach that device, but the whole bar had tracking cameras, and Nael's mouth would be a cleaner input for the company than any data collector. Nael ran his thumb over the dry bark of the twig. If you don't speak, they take my vehicle, replied Valdo. Nael looked at the back door. Nael gripped the twig hard. The dry tip broke between his fingers. Ilva did not go near him. She only moved the empty bowl, pushing it away from the edge of the table, as if making room for something that did not yet fit there. The band projected a request for oral confirmation. Valdo laid his palm over his own wrist. The camera above the counter lowered its focus. Nael went to the door. Outside, the buriti of the lower bend showed beyond the houses, a grey shaft with the green strip held at the top. He described the climb up to the crooked post, the ditch where the buried vehicle slept under the earth, the mark of the old stakes. He stopped before the house. The camera waited. There's more, said Valdo. There are people underneath, answered Nael. The request closed for insufficient detail. The rental company recorded an incomplete route and kept the collection at the next interval. It also opened a new charge on Valdo's profile, inconclusive mapping, deducted from every future delivery. He did not argue. He left the bar and stood by the reservoir, without touching it. In the yard, the saúvas came back along the exposed cabling. One carried half a pequi leaf, raised over its back like a green sail.