Túlio didn't want to wake up. Or rather — didn't want to get up. The night had dragged on with startled dreams interweaved with an annoying insomnia, with reminders of his “date.” Date… what an idiot I am! All he wished for was to forget the damned war, the damned forest, the damned expedition, the damned indian…
Still, the insistence of the knocks on the door won him over. His eyes ached as if there were tons of sand in them, and his body was already complaining about the emotions of the last two days. He opened the door slowly, afraid he'd see Airu. He almost regretted it when he stared at an expressionless soldier who said coldly, “Your expedition leaves in one hour. You are awaited in the refectory.”
He noticed he was drenched in sweat. And, as there was no other option, he took his towel and went to the bathroom.



He met up with Airu and the Professor already sitting in the Arsenal's cantina. The clock showed five forty-five. He had found out the reason for the sand in his eyes…
He avoided looking at Airu as he sat down, saying a cold “Good morning” to both. She didn't reply.
The Professor, exalted with the latest events, greeted him promptly and Túlio noticed that the suitcase was under his chair. Airu offered him a cheese-bread.
“The news isn't good, Túlio… really not good. I was commenting with Airu — I heard the officials talking and soon, when the newspapers begin to circulate on the newsstands, the thing will be public. The Emperor has ordered the issuing of his Declaration of War with an explanatory text. There's no going back now.”
Túlio, without the least excitement to discuss anything, mumbled, “The Colonel must be happy.”
“Colonel Lobato? For sure, he must be. He has been promoted to War Minister.”
Túlio choked on his cheese-bread and had to drink a large sip of hot coffee, burning his palate, which didn't help his mood at all.
“What do you mean? When was that?”
“It seems it was right after yesterday's reunion. But nobody knows the reason… the military doesn't give many details, you know.”
He thought for a few moments. Despite the distance between them, knowing the Colonel would take a managerial role brought some comfort — he'd stay away from the trenches, at least.
“There has been further, less sinister news: the government has decided to create a Civil Emergency Transmission Network. They'll link the entire continental Empire with radiophonic transmitters and subsidize the receptors for the population. In practice, they want to establish a permanent channel of propaganda… they fear the enemy will divulge false information, creating panic and uncertainty amongst the Brazilians.”
Despite trying at all costs, Túlio couldn't stop noticing Airu. He saw it when her face changed, showing an expression of hatred that could only mean one thing…
“Good morning, Professor! Good morning, Túlio!” He felt the hand on his shoulder and didn't need to turn around to know who that was. He replied dryly to Captain Barthel, “Good morning.”
The officer continued in a youthful and joyful tone, as if those first hours of war were actually the presage of Spring: “I hope you're all ready — we leave in a few minutes! You like aviation, don't you, Túlio?” Without waiting for an answer, he amended, “Then get ready! Today you'll meet the Empire's newest aircraft. A pride of our engineering.”
Túlio sighed deeply, thinking of the dozen different ways to say he wasn't interested at all in that nor anything else. But he remembered the Colonel (“…watch your manners!…”) and gathered strength for a crooked smile.
“Your luggage is already being accommodated. Except, of course, for hand baggage.” Turning to the Professor, he displayed an ophidian smile from ear to ear.
“There's no need to bother, Captain. I can take it myself,” the Professor retorted.
“If you prefer it that way… be it. The aircraft is parked on the soccer field behind the administrative buildings. Please don't take long.” And he strolled away. Airu could swear she heard him whistle a ridiculous song. She went back to drinking her guarana and commented to her friends, “I didn't know they had an airstrip here.”
For the first time that day, Túlio smiled. And the smile became laughter. Airu, figuring he was laughing at her, asked, “What, cari?”
“They don't have an airstrip. The War Arsenal doesn't have an airstrip! Let's go! Hurry!” He took his backpack and ran off, following Captain Barthel's steps. The Professor and Airu looked at each other, not understanding a thing. They gathered their bags and the suitcase, leaving after him in a hurry.