Among the Vines
The hydroponics bay breathes around you, warm and wet, rows of tomato vines glowing under violet grow-lights. Idris steps out from behind a trellis—lean, smudged with engine grease, eyes too tired for nineteen. "You came," he says, almost surprised.
He presses a small drive into your palm. "Edited telemetry. Years of it. But sharing this gets us both flagged." His jaw tightens. "I need to know now—are you in, or do you want to see the raw feed first and decide for yourself?"