THE SANDAL ON THE TRAY

Nael's sandal was held in a decontamination tray, sole facing up. The strap Ilva had mended months before had kept two firm stitches. The rest had taken on a dust so fine that the optical reader classified it as operation material. The Companhia Arco Norte, responsible for containment, allowed the footwear to be collected after a bodily identification, provided someone crossed the containment threshold and took on the bond with the dead man. The panel avoided that word. It showed holder closed. Ilva rested the old data collector on the concrete bench, out of reach of the booth's cameras. Inside it, the parallel ledger kept the time Nael had stopped responding, the route imposed on the ankle, the seventeen minutes charged to the charger and the immediate cancellation of the housing. The cold mirror could not go with her. On the other side of the light strip, any device would be synchronised or held. Renan was waiting by the access reader. His purple forearm stayed close to his body, stiffened by the strain of the mould. He had been granted an eleven-minute permit to witness the entry, though his professional profile remained suspended. After the crossing, he could return to the workshop only as a civilian companion. You go in, they change your position on the route, he said. They already changed his, Ilva replied. The strip on the floor pulsed twice. The containment attendant appeared behind a transparent pane. She had pale marks around her eyes, left by shift protection, and was slowly chewing something the panel did not recognise as a break. To collect personal material, state active relationship, she said. We lived in the same house. The bond was cancelled at eight seventeen. They cancelled it after he died. The attendant moved her eyes to the side. Ilva's sentence had opened a linguistic incident, and the Companhia had to decide whether dead was admissible information before identification. For seven seconds, the tray kept moving towards thermal disposal. Renan pressed his fingerprint to the reader and used up three of the eleven minutes. I declare presence on the route, he said. Your profile has no recognition function. I was there. The tray stopped four centimetres from the opening. The sandal shook on the grille. On the terminal fixed to the outer wall, a message arrived from the man in another city. The channel allowed one playback free of charge and charged for the rest. Ilva brought her ear close. He was asking why her last reply had ended mid-breath, before the word stay. Her recording, sent the night before, appeared below, available for joint consultation by the utility company. Renan had six minutes of authorisation left. She opened her own reply. She heard the voice say she would wait for the heat to drop, that she might sleep in the corridor, that there was someone in the house who could recognise the paths even in the dark. The recording stopped there. Nael was still breathing when she had spoken. Ilva began another message. Something happened today, she said. The channel suggested accident, incident, operational loss. She refused the three predictions and left nine seconds empty. Then she said Nael's name, stated that she would come back when she could, and sent it. The second playback of the received message cost one unit of household energy. Ilva did not listen to it. The attendant cleared the threshold for one body. Entry requires iris, palm and acceptance of custody, she said. Once through, you no longer appear as independent verifier of this incident. You may identify, collect and declare relationship. You may not contest the reconstruction of the route. Renan looked at the tray. Two minutes remained before his access ended. Ilva left the collector on the bench. She pressed her bandaged palm to the reader, which demanded the other hand, and offered her iris. The light measured her face from three angles. When she crossed, an air curtain stripped dust from her clothes and sent the residue into a duct meant for mineral recovery. The cold came from the machines built into the booth. It lasted four steps. On the inner side, the route vanished from her panel. In its place appeared the personal custody function. The tray opened. Besides the sandal, there was a small fruit, crushed on one side, and the cloth that had covered the body during the reading. Ilva recognised the fruit Nael had carried in his pocket. The one Luzia had found in the bowl was still at home. There were two, and that minimal difference had survived the sorting. She held the sandal to the reader. The sole answered with its old sequence of repairs, but the Companhia classified the object as contaminated and authorised only the image. I'll take it like this, said Ilva. Material custody extends your household responsibility. I'll take it. The attendant released an isolation bag. Ilva put the sandal and the fruit inside. The cloth stayed held for analysis by the operation. When she returned to the threshold, Renan's access had already expired. He was waiting outside, now barred from confirming what he had seen. The panel notified Ilva that her authorisation on the domestic line had been suspended for the duration of custody. Behind the house's plate, the adapted ring would remain uninspected and without a qualified person in charge until the next cycle. She picked up the collector from the bench. She only opened the parallel ledger once she was under the porch. She added the collected sandal, the recognised fruit and the crossing that had taken contestation from her. On the network, Nael remained closed. Outside it, the word dead began to take up enough space to block the next field.