THE BROKEN STAKE

The pot lid rattled twice before Nael took it off the heat. Inside, the corn was popping in a few grains, too dry for all of them to open. Valdo laughed when one jumped over the rim and landed near his foot. That one escaped the charge, he said. Nael picked the grain up off the floor, blew off the dust and handed it to him. What you ate was the road. Ilva left the spoon on the table. Through the open door, the mesh around the seedling received the saúvas the way a wall receives rain. They climbed, came down, returned to the same point on the heated seam. Further off, the datacenter ducts cut across the backs of the yards, fixed to the old houses like veins that had chosen another body. The intelligence grew in cold rooms and left here the metal, the heat and the insects searching for a leaf. Valdo held his hand in front of the domestic panel. He asked for the route statement, the record that separated each charge by the path attributed to the body of whoever owed. The screen opened three lines over the table. Inconclusive mapping. Tool retention. Route reconstruction. The last cost more than the first two together. Valdo brought his face close. Valdo ran his finger along the third line, but the panel drew back at the closeness. I didn't make that one, he said. You made some, replied Nael. Ilva looked at the lines without touching the screen. The charge had been created the instant Valdo left the licensed polygon. The route shown began at the blue arc, followed the lower bend and ended near the broken stake. Then it advanced along a straight band that crossed the place where Nael had stopped speaking. The band goes through the house, she said. Valdo did not answer. He kept his mouth closed, watching the green drawing run over an earth that did not appear on the map. Nael pushed the pot to the middle of the table. He ate two burnt grains, chewing slowly. When he played on the ground behind the bar, he used to bet with Antônio on the hour of the first rain. He always chose a weaker cloud than the other, just to stretch the conversation out until dark. That night, he pointed at the sky through the door. It's going to rain over towards the hills. Valdo looked up. There were no hills to be seen, only the white reflection of the cooling towers, still above the low clouds. You get it wrong even when it's worth nothing. It's worth corn, said Nael. Ilva opened the cold mirror on the table, between the pot and the panel. The parallel ledger received the date, the time and the still image of the charged route. She did not ask Nael to tell about the house. She asked only for the promised bend. As far as the stake, he said. As far as the stake, repeated Valdo. Nael described the scraped bank, the dry ditch, the crooked post that leaned towards the leafless buriti. He said where the vehicle should slow down, where the wheel would sink if it left the pale mark. He stopped at the broken stake, a splinter of wood held to the ground by an old root. His voice was kept beside the green drawing. Valdo then requested a linked appeal. The panel demanded bodily authentication and displayed the utility company's notice. By confirming, he would authorise a review of the calculation, but would lose the possibility of negotiating a direct discount with the rental company. The depot paid less to whoever disputed a route. His hand hovered in front of the reader. If you do that, said Ilva, they'll want to know what's after the stake. Valdo drew his hand back to his chest. Nael pushed the pot to the corner of the table. The last of the burnt corn left a dark circle on the wood. You don't give the house. I didn't. Valdo brought his face close. The panel read the skin, the veins, the tiredness around the eyes. The appeal entered the system record with the three charges attached to the impossible route. The rental company would have to show the calculation before deducting the next delivery. The first line changed colour. Partial payment authorised. Valdo had ceded a fraction of the next job to keep the other two open. On the screen, the green road went on crossing the buried house. In the yard, a saúva reached the top of the mesh, stopped by the still warm metal and went on through the shade of the pequi seedling.