Luckily this power plant is in the middle of freaking nowhere. Whoever thought I'd find revenge in the rural village of Somerset, Massachusetts?

My heart is pounding with adrenaline.

Sure, I've deactivated my wristband so that AG can't track me. And I'm smart enough to leave a very illegal duplicate activated at home. That way, it looks like I'm working like a dutiful citizen.

If they find me out here, I'm flicking toast in so many ways. They'll give me an automatic deduction of three points for illegally concealing my whereabouts. That means I lose my job, my apartment, and my access to most venues. Not to mention, I'd take Paul down with me.

Hell, scratch that. AlphaGalaxy would probably turn both of us into Zeros for me spying on a secret corporate facility. Sure, there'd be a show trial.

And then buh-bye.

As long as my dummy wristband shows them I'm slaving away at my work, no problem.

Drones don't regularly patrol the sticks this far away from electric stations where they can refuel. Also the Q6 signal is weak and unreliable, which makes them disoriented. 

My research has shown me the station doesn't have the staff for tight human patrols. AG probably figures a few dozen elite Steeltoes is sufficient security to guard a place no one knows or cares about.

If the security here thinks the crappy signal will affect the Fly, they're wrong. Last night's research has taught me this baby will broadcast in a warzone full of blazing laser fire or during a natural disaster such as a hurricane or volcanic eruption.

It should manage a warehouse.

Hidden on the edge of a dense forest, the former power plant spreads across a site larger than ten football arenas. The main complex looks like a huge twentieth century warehouse with tall, thin stacks and twin cooling towers from the old days.

Once a traditional power station, every square inch is now covered in solar panels with dozens of sun farms surrounding it. Offshore wind farms provide an additional renewable power source, enough to service all the local households and more.

To any casual observer, it looks for all the world like a normal renewable energy plant. Some fancy PR executive probably opened it with some lame statement. "Hooray! At AG we love the environment! Look at us!"

Yeah, I smell bullshit.

It may look responsible, but I pulled Brayton's public accounts. Only one human works there along with a handful of robots and digital assistants.

Yet somehow they barely manage to turn a profit. Even with a small army of Steeltoes guarding the place, that's pushing it.

What do they need all that energy for?

"Well, we're about to find out," I say to the Fly. "Work your magic, buddy."

Before activating the Fly, I've projected a transparent green screen onto my body using my holojector. Most people use this crazy tech to superimpose an attractive avatar on themselves.

Boom, insta-hottie!

With a teensy little adjustment, I'm using it to render myself invisible. No one can tell who's in control of the Fly in case anyone intercepts the footage.

"Take that, ass-hats!"

With the press of a button, the Fly buzzes to life. It darts around like a hummingbird on speed before coming to a rest on my dashboard. After scurrying along the surface, it takes off again.

Wow, pretty impressive.

Upon close inspection, the design resembles an actual housefly from its size and weight to its ability to render three hundred and sixty degree 3D video. Even better, this baby can zoom at high speed and react to stimuli.

It darts when I swat at it.

"No flicking way!" I whisper in awe.

MicroBook has manufactured this particular model to look like the pesky creature because it comes from their Stealth Fly range. It even buzzes like one. In silent mode, the device rubs two of its stabilizers together like its natural counterpart while the hind legs function as antennae.

Easy to mistake for an actual fly.

I cackle to myself and put it on manual. The Fly overreacts like a vintage radio-controlled car at the slightest press of a button. Shit! Paul will kill me if I break this thing.

So I take no risks. Entering the GPS coordinates for the power plant, I set the flight mode to automatic and let her go.

"Up, up and away!"

When the Fly approaches the main complex, I gulp. Every hundred yards, Steeltoes stand on guard with laser weapons as large as me. They've got even more guns and laser swords on their leather belts and wear heavy battle armor. 

Drones patrol back and forth in between the security troops, scouting for human intruders. At least, I can only hope they aren't looking for Flies.  

My heart thuds against my ribs as the Fly darts around. She randomizes her flight pattern to resemble a fly. But she gets ever closer to the target until she lands on a window pane. 

Locked.

After a few moments of clinging to the glass, she takes off in search of another way in. After the third try, there's a window that's open a crack. Not nearly enough for a creature to come in. 

But a Fly? No problem.

Bingo! Bathroom. Works every time.

Careful not to fly over any stalls or urinals, I navigate the Fly through the corridors. It's a veritable maze, but thanks to signposting, she doesn't get lost. 

My excitement quickly turns to boredom when I don't find anything of interest popping up on my holojector's video feed. After over two hours of stealth flying, I'm starting to feel foolish. All I can find is locker rooms with weapons and military gear. 

Maybe Zephyr has played a practical joke on me. Simply to see how gullible I am. If they did, I swear I'll join their game and find some way to blast them from here to Mars.

Her battery is waning. If the Fly doesn't find some evidence soon, this will all be for nothing.

The Fly jolts me to attention with a beeping noise. Red alert! There she sits, clinging to a window overlooking a huge storage facility as far as her eyes can see. She flies in a circle, showing me she's found a huge metal door. Then she lands on the glass again and zooms in for a closer look.

I whistle softly and stare in awe at the projection radiating from my holojector. "What did you find, Little Lady?"

Inside the warehouse, it resembles one of those old-fashioned server farms. Row after row of vertical cubicles, slightly larger than a grown man, stand side by side.

They could process solar or wind power and convert it into a form households can use. But until I get closer, I won't know for sure.

Something tells me that ain't it.

The door swings open.

Ever at the ready, the Fly dashes through the opening and zooms towards the cubicles. My heart sinks once she shows me they're an opaque black color. No way either of us can see inside them.

But wait!

"Move closer to the top," I tell the Fly. "That part looks translucent."

The Fly buzzes in assent and darts over to a cubicle, clinging to the outer glass. She allows me to peer inside it.

There it is.

A human face. Sleeping in the chamber.

Holy shit! Could Zephyr be right?

"Go to the others!" I croak, my hand flying to my lips in disbelief.

Row after row. Human beings lie vertically in deep stasis within each of them, with barely enough space inside the cubicles to take a breath.

The Fly finds a quantum terminal nearby and gives me a quizzical buzz.

"Search for Zephyr," I command her.

The Fly uses Q-tech to interact with the device. Amazing. No wonder why we've deleted people from the equation in most sectors. The human element always fails. Because of the incompetence of a lab tech, I can access their read-only files without a single hack.

After a few seconds, the Fly buzzes a red alert.

I stare at the hologram in disbelief.

The screen shows a slender prisoner in their late twenties, trim and toned with a bronze complexion. Hair as dark as spilled ink. Eyes as gray as steel. A neat layer of stubble that doesn't cover that unmistakable prominent chin and square jaw.

Birth name: Doctor Rainer Gotthard
Date of birth: August 15, 2028 (Age: 56)
Date of capture: September 20, 2054 (Age: 26)
Hacker codename: ZephyrOfChange
Crimes: sedition, treason, grand crypto-larceny

Sweet sun! 

Thirty years without parole? With no end in sight? 

It's not like he killed or raped someone. Or kidnapped kids and used their skulls as lampshades. 

Shit, never mind parole. Zephyr hasn't seen the light of day in thirty years. Literally! They haven't breathed fresh air in thirty flicking years.

Either shoot the guy outright for being a traitor, or give them some dignity. But that shit breaks every existing human rights law.

Their cell number appears beneath their fact cube: 404–503.

"Fly, find them."

My buddy buzzes in assent and zooms around the room aimlessly, trying to find the right place without success. Astonished, I soon realize the designation refers to a row and a column.

Which means there are over two hundred thousand prisoners here.

Jesus H. Christ!

Helping the Fly, I direct her to the right place. She lands on the glass of cell 404–503 and blinks as I zoom in.

Holy shit!

It's Zephyr.

Only they haven't aged. Not a single day. If they've been here for thirty years, what does that mean? Can AG use them forever until they break?

What if they'd done this to Stella? Or to my family? Or Paul?

Shit, the world needs to know about this. Right away.

___

Word count: 1,620
Total word count: 13,160/20,000

A/N: Thank you so much for reading! Heyyy, we're over halfway to the final goal! How exciting is that, you guys? :D *happy dance*

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