THE RUSTED GRILLE

The empty bowl was still on the floor, a hand's width from the others, when Renan came back from the street with grey dust in the folds of his shirt. He carried the workshop's notice on his wrist. The magnet cargo was running ahead of schedule because factories far away had increased their orders, and the crushing plant's filters needed to be cleaned before the sun went down. They paid a whole meal and half an evening one to whoever agreed to take the shift. The man looked at the bowl. Renan touched two fingers to the torn sieve. The ants had already found the bigger tear. They came without larvae, in a short line, crossed the gutter and disappeared behind the service cabinet, where the ventilation kept the machines' air at a cold that never reached the kitchen. If I go, they get in, he said. Nael got up from the threshold. He had spent the morning picking dark grains out of the farinha, a task he did too slowly to be worth arguing over. He took from the storeroom a narrow grille, covered in rust at the ends. It came from the back of the bar's first refrigerator, bought when he was still guiding surveys and Antônio hid the appliance under the table, afraid someone would take it before the kitchen was ready. Luzia tapped one of the bars with her fingernail. Does that keep ants out, she asked. It keeps out things bigger than ants, said Nael. She brought a little dried-fruit cap she had found near the tank and began using it as a plate for a lone ant. She followed the creature until it abandoned the cap and climbed up a bar of the grille. She laughed as if she had won a bet nobody had made. Renan carried the piece to the ventilation. The grille was exactly the length of the opening, short only by a finger's width at the side. He removed the sieve, and the hot air struck his face with a smell of mineral dust and old grease. Ilva brought two fragments of taipa left over from raising the plate. Renan set one on each side, fitted the grille over them and pressed until the rust shed a thin crust onto the floor. The ants reached the barrier. One climbed, fell, tried again. The others went back along the gutter. The man took the freed sieve and carried it to the kitchen. He shook the metal over the sink. Out fell three grains of farinha, a dry wing and a powder no one could use. Ilva picked the empty bowl up off the floor, washed it with the rest of the water in the mug and left it draining mouth down. In the street, the mining cargo went by dragging a moving shadow over the porch. The tracking cameras on the facade followed the vehicle to the corner. Renan received a new notice on his wrist. Twenty-three minutes remained for the workshop to fill the slot. Go, said Nael. Renan looked at the old grille. Then he looked at the house. The operation promised work in the datacenter's new yards to anyone with an address fit to lodge installers. Renan had heard the names of the streets being shared out on the workshop channel. Antônio's house appeared as a space in dispute. A provisional occupant could ward off the selection. It could also attract an inspection no one wanted. He took the wrench from the counter and set it in front of Ilva. If the grille gives, call someone, he said. Luzia had already forgotten the ant. She found a bluish feather in the yard, too small to say what bird it had come from, and tucked it behind her ear. Nael pretended not to see. She walked to the door, showed the feather to the man and asked whether he knew how to whistle without using his mouth. He tried. Out came a low breath, without shape. Luzia laughed again, ran to the shade of the tank and did not come back to finish the game. Renan left for the shift carrying the smell of the workshop before he reached it. The grille stayed in front of the ventilation. Ilva brought the farinha close to the stove's emergency line and heated part of it on a plate already cold, stirring until the lumps darkened. She made four small mounds. The largest stayed under Antônio's upturned bowl. Nael got the second. Ilva took the third. The fourth remained, almost only the rim of a spoon. The man carried the washed bowl to the table and set it beside his portion. Not with the residents' bowls, nor on the floor. Then he pulled the empty bag close to the corridor door and folded the blanket over it.