The Leak in Tray Nine

Arvid carries a bucket of warm water across the greenhouse. He walks like a waiter in a very bad restaurant. The glass roof is black above him. Only the grow lamps shine, long purple lines over the benches.

Arvid membawa seember air hangat melintasi rumah kaca. Ia berjalan seperti pelayan di restoran yang sangat buruk. Atap kaca di atasnya hitam pekat. Hanya lampu tanam yang menyala, garis-garis ungu panjang di atas meja-meja tanam.

"You are spilling," Nuri says.

"Airnya tumpah," kata Nuri.

"I am not spilling. I am carefully spreading."

"Aku tidak menumpahkannya. Aku sedang menyebarkannya dengan hati-hati."

Nuri laughs and writes a note on the clipboard. She keeps the logbook, and she never forgets a number. Arvid keeps everything else.

Nuri tertawa dan menulis catatan di papan jepit. Dialah yang memegang buku catatan harian, dan ia tidak pernah lupa satu angka pun. Arvid yang mengurus semua hal lainnya.

The greenhouse sits on the roof of the college science block. But the back corner, behind a plastic curtain, holds twelve small trays of moss. The moss is not ordinary. Its spores came back from the Moon last year in a research capsule. The science club is the first school group allowed to grow them.

Rumah kaca itu berada di atap gedung sains kampus. Namun di sudut belakang, di balik tirai plastik, ada dua belas nampan kecil berisi lumut. Lumut itu bukan lumut biasa. Sporanya kembali dari Bulan tahun lalu dalam sebuah kapsul penelitian. Klub sains itu adalah kelompok sekolah pertama yang diizinkan menumbuhkannya.

The moss is also very fussy. It needs a temperature between twenty-two and twenty-six degrees, day and night. This week, the old heating pipes are broken. The repair team comes on Friday. Until then, the club has to keep the trays warm with nothing but hot-water bottles and blankets.

Lumut itu juga sangat rewel. Ia membutuhkan suhu antara dua puluh dua dan dua puluh enam derajat, siang dan malam. Minggu ini pipa pemanas lama rusak. Tim perbaikan baru datang hari Jumat. Sampai saat itu, klub harus menjaga nampan-nampan tetap hangat hanya dengan botol air panas dan selimut.

"Twelve trays, twelve bottles," Nuri says, counting on her fingers. "We fill them at six in the evening and again at seven in the morning."

"Dua belas nampan, dua belas botol," kata Nuri sambil menghitung dengan jarinya. "Kita isi pukul enam sore dan lagi pukul tujuh pagi."

"And the water must never be hotter than forty degrees."

"Dan airnya tidak boleh lebih panas dari empat puluh derajat."

They work as a team. Arvid pours, and Nuri checks the thermometer. Each bottle goes under a small towel, and each towel goes beside a tray. Then they pull a thick blanket over the whole bench, like putting twelve very small people to bed.

Mereka bekerja sebagai tim. Arvid menuang, dan Nuri memeriksa termometer. Setiap botol dibungkus handuk kecil, dan setiap handuk diletakkan di samping nampan. Lalu mereka menarik selimut tebal menutupi seluruh meja, seperti menidurkan dua belas orang yang sangat kecil.

Tray Nine is the last one. Its bottle is the oldest, a faded blue rubber thing that somebody found in a cupboard. Arvid holds it up to the light.

Nampan Sembilan adalah yang terakhir. Botolnya yang paling tua, benda karet biru pudar yang ditemukan seseorang di dalam lemari. Arvid mengangkatnya ke arah cahaya.

"This one looks tired," he says.

"Yang ini kelihatan capek," katanya.

"It looked tired yesterday, and it worked. Fill it."

"Kemarin juga kelihatan capek, dan masih bisa dipakai. Isi saja."

Here is the mistake, though neither of them knows it yet. The bucket water has cooled by now. Arvid goes to the kettle in the staff room and fills the bottle there. He does not stop to measure. He is hungry, and the football match starts soon. He tells himself that the water is probably forty degrees.

Inilah kesalahannya, meskipun belum ada di antara mereka yang tahu. Air di ember sudah dingin sekarang. Arvid pergi ke ketel di ruang staf dan mengisi botol itu di sana. Ia tidak berhenti untuk mengukur. Ia lapar, dan pertandingan sepak bola sebentar lagi dimulai. Ia meyakinkan diri bahwa airnya mungkin empat puluh derajat.

It is not forty degrees. It is nearly boiling.

Airnya bukan empat puluh derajat. Airnya nyaris mendidih.

The old rubber goes soft. Arvid feels the bottle sag in his hands. He puts it down on its towel without a second look. Nuri signs the logbook, and they both walk out into the cold corridor. The blanket stays over the bench. The lights stay on.

Karet tua itu menjadi lunak. Arvid merasakan botol itu melorot di tangannya. Ia meletakkannya di atas handuknya tanpa melihat dua kali. Nuri menandatangani buku catatan, dan mereka berdua berjalan keluar ke koridor yang dingin. Selimut tetap menutupi meja. Lampu tetap menyala.

Arvid goes home and falls asleep in front of the match.

Arvid pulang dan tertidur di depan pertandingan.

At three in the morning, his phone buzzes. The sound wakes him, and he stares at the screen with one eye open. It is the greenhouse app, the one the club built last term. Every tray has a small sensor, and the app sends an alert if anything strange happens.

Pukul tiga pagi, ponselnya bergetar. Bunyinya membangunkannya, dan ia menatap layar dengan satu mata terbuka. Itu aplikasi rumah kaca, yang dibuat klub semester lalu. Setiap nampan punya sensor kecil, dan aplikasi itu mengirim peringatan jika terjadi sesuatu yang aneh.

The message says: TRAY NINE. HUMIDITY 100%. TEMPERATURE 31.

Pesannya berbunyi: NAMPAN SEMBILAN. KELEMBAPAN 100%. SUHU 31.

Arvid sits up. He reads the message three times. Then he calls Nuri, who answers on the second ring.

Arvid duduk tegak. Ia membaca pesan itu tiga kali. Lalu ia menelepon Nuri, yang menjawab pada dering kedua.

"Tell me it's a joke," she says.

"Bilang padaku ini lelucon," kata Nuri.

"It's tray nine. It's too hot and too wet."

"Ini nampan sembilan. Terlalu panas dan terlalu basah."

"The bottle."

"Botolnya."

"I think the bottle."

"Kurasa botolnya."

"I'm coming," Nuri says. "Bring the keys."

"Aku ke sana," kata Nuri. "Bawa kuncinya."

Twenty minutes later, they stand in the greenhouse with their coats over their pyjamas. The blanket on the bench is dark and heavy. When Arvid lifts it, a cloud of steam rolls out into the cold air. The old bottle lies on its side, split along one seam like a broken sausage. Warm water has run across the tray and onto the floor.

Dua puluh menit kemudian, mereka berdiri di rumah kaca dengan mantel menutupi piyama. Selimut di atas meja gelap dan berat. Ketika Arvid mengangkatnya, segumpal uap bergulung keluar ke udara dingin. Botol tua itu tergeletak miring, robek di sepanjang satu jahitannya seperti sosis yang pecah. Air hangat mengalir melintasi nampan dan sampai ke lantai.

"No, no, no," Nuri says.

"Tidak, tidak, tidak," kata Nuri.

She kneels beside the tray. Half the moss is pale and soft, almost grey. The other half, near the wall, still looks green. In the light of her phone, the line between the two parts is sharp as a ruler.

Ia berlutut di samping nampan. Separuh lumut itu pucat dan lembek, hampir kelabu. Separuh lainnya, dekat dinding, masih tampak hijau. Dalam cahaya ponselnya, garis di antara kedua bagian itu setajam penggaris.

"I did this," Arvid says. "I used the kettle. I didn't check."

"Aku yang melakukannya," kata Arvid. "Aku pakai ketel. Aku tidak memeriksanya."

"We both signed the log. We both said it was fine."

"Kita berdua menandatangani buku catatan. Kita berdua bilang semuanya baik-baik saja."

"You didn't fill the bottle."

"Kamu tidak mengisi botolnya."

"I didn't ask if you measured. That is also my fault."

"Aku tidak bertanya apakah kamu sudah mengukurnya. Itu juga salahku."

For a moment, neither of them speaks. Water drips on the tiles.

Sejenak, tak satu pun dari mereka bicara. Air menetes di atas ubin.

Then Nuri stands up and pushes her hair out of her face.

Lalu Nuri berdiri dan menyibakkan rambut dari wajahnya.

"Okay," she says. "We can be sorry later. Fix it now."

"Oke," katanya. "Kita bisa menyesal nanti. Perbaiki sekarang."

They make a list, because Nuri always makes a list. First, move Tray Nine away from the wet bench. Second, mop the floor before anyone slips. Third, save whatever moss is still alive. Fourth, find a better way to keep the tray warm.

Mereka membuat daftar, karena Nuri selalu membuat daftar. Pertama, pindahkan Nampan Sembilan dari meja yang basah. Kedua, pel lantai sebelum ada yang terpeleset. Ketiga, selamatkan lumut yang masih hidup. Keempat, cari cara yang lebih baik untuk menjaga nampan itu tetap hangat.

Arvid carries the tray to a dry table by the door. Nuri brings a clean towel and a pair of long tweezers from the lab drawer. She works slowly, lifting the pale clumps one at a time and placing them on a plate. The soft ones fall apart in her fingers. The ones near the wall stay firm.

Arvid membawa nampan itu ke meja kering dekat pintu. Nuri mengambil handuk bersih dan sepasang pinset panjang dari laci laboratorium. Ia bekerja pelan-pelan, mengangkat gumpalan-gumpalan pucat satu per satu dan meletakkannya di atas piring. Gumpalan yang lembek hancur di jemarinya. Gumpalan yang dekat dinding tetap kokoh.

"Eight clumps are still green," she whispers. "Maybe nine."

"Delapan gumpal masih hijau," bisiknya. "Mungkin sembilan."

"Then we have eight. Eight is not zero."

"Kalau begitu kita punya delapan. Delapan bukan nol."

"Eight is not twelve."

"Delapan bukan dua belas."

While she sorts the clumps, Arvid goes to the supply shelf. He finds a glass jam jar with a metal lid and fills it from the tap. This time, he stands next to the thermometer and waits until the water shows exactly thirty-eight degrees. He screws the lid on tight and wraps the jar in an old sock. Then he puts it beside the tray.

Selagi Nuri memilah gumpalan, Arvid pergi ke rak perlengkapan. Ia menemukan stoples selai kaca bertutup logam dan mengisinya dari keran. Kali ini, ia berdiri di samping termometer dan menunggu sampai airnya menunjukkan tepat tiga puluh delapan derajat. Ia memutar tutupnya erat-erat dan membungkus stoples itu dengan kaus kaki tua. Lalu ia meletakkannya di samping nampan.

"A bottle breaks," he says. "A jar doesn't. We should have thought of this on Monday."

"Botol bisa pecah," katanya. "Stoples tidak. Seharusnya kita memikirkan ini hari Senin."

"We should have tested the bottles on Monday," Nuri says. "Every single one."

"Seharusnya kita menguji botol-botolnya hari Senin," kata Nuri. "Satu per satu."

"All twelve?"

"Semua dua belas?"

"All twelve. Tomorrow, before school. I'll make a new checklist."

"Semua dua belas. Besok, sebelum sekolah. Aku akan membuat daftar periksa baru."

They wipe the floor until it shines. They check the other eleven trays and find nothing wrong. By half past four, the greenhouse is calm again. The wall screen shows a steady twenty-four degrees.

Mereka mengepel lantai sampai mengilap. Mereka memeriksa sebelas nampan lainnya dan tidak menemukan apa pun yang salah. Pukul setengah lima, rumah kaca sudah tenang kembali. Layar di dinding menunjukkan dua puluh empat derajat yang stabil.

Arvid looks at the clock. "We should tell our teacher before she finds the bottle herself."

Arvid melihat jam. "Kita harus memberi tahu guru kita sebelum dia menemukan botolnya sendiri."

"We tell her at eight. With the logbook open and the whole story written down."

"Kita beri tahu dia pukul delapan. Dengan buku catatan terbuka dan seluruh ceritanya tertulis."

"Even the part about the kettle?"

"Bahkan bagian soal ketel?"

"Especially the part about the kettle."

"Terutama bagian soal ketel."

Nuri opens the logbook on her knee and starts to write. She writes the time, the temperature, and the exact words of the alert. She writes that the mistake was Arvid's. Then she crosses it out and writes that the mistake was theirs.

Nuri membuka buku catatan di lututnya dan mulai menulis. Ia menulis waktunya, suhunya, dan kata-kata persis dari peringatan itu. Ia menulis bahwa kesalahan itu milik Arvid. Lalu ia mencoretnya dan menulis bahwa kesalahan itu milik mereka berdua.

When she finishes, they sit side by side on two upside-down buckets, tired and a little cold. Outside the glass roof, the sky begins to turn the colour of a grey pearl.

Setelah selesai, mereka duduk berdampingan di atas dua ember yang dibalik, lelah dan sedikit kedinginan. Di luar atap kaca, langit mulai berubah warna menjadi kelabu seperti mutiara.

Arvid looks at the rescued moss on the dry table. The eight green clumps sit under the small lamp, quiet and ordinary. But next to them lies the plate of pale, ruined pieces, which they have not yet thrown away.

Arvid memandangi lumut yang berhasil diselamatkan di atas meja kering. Delapan gumpal hijau itu berada di bawah lampu kecil, tenang dan biasa-biasa saja. Tetapi di sebelahnya tergeletak piring berisi serpihan pucat yang rusak, yang belum mereka buang.

"Nuri," he says slowly. "Turn off the big lights."

"Nuri," katanya pelan. "Matikan lampu besarnya."

"Why?"

"Kenapa?"

"Just do it."

"Lakukan saja."

She walks to the wall and flips the switch. The greenhouse falls into soft shadow, with only the little lamp still glowing. And there, on the plate of grey moss, something shines.

Ia berjalan ke dinding dan menekan saklar. Rumah kaca jatuh ke dalam bayang-bayang lembut, hanya lampu kecil yang masih menyala. Dan di sana, di atas piring berisi lumut kelabu itu, sesuatu bersinar.

It is a faint blue light, no bigger than a grain of rice. It glows for three seconds, then fades. Ten seconds later, it glows again.

Itu cahaya biru samar, tidak lebih besar dari sebutir beras. Ia menyala selama tiga detik, lalu padam. Sepuluh detik kemudian, ia menyala lagi.

"Is that a reflection?" Nuri asks.

"Apa itu pantulan?" tanya Nuri.

"There is nothing here to reflect."

"Di sini tidak ada apa pun yang bisa memantulkan."

Nuri takes her phone and films the plate. On the screen, the blue point appears again. It blinks twice and then waits, as if it heard them talking.

Nuri mengambil ponselnya dan merekam piring itu. Di layar, titik biru itu muncul lagi. Ia berkedip dua kali lalu menunggu, seolah-olah ia mendengar mereka berbicara.

Neither of them has an answer. They only know that the light comes from moss that should be dead. The logbook has no page for it yet.

Tak satu pun dari mereka punya jawaban. Mereka hanya tahu bahwa cahaya itu berasal dari lumut yang seharusnya sudah mati. Buku catatan itu belum punya halaman untuk itu.