"Practically every environmental problem we have can be traced to our addiction to fossil fuels, primarily oil."

Dennis Weaver

The man was observing the convoy entering the premises, his eyes scrutinizing the multiple screens in front of him. His gaze drifted to the wall on his right, a poster of Earth showing an expense of blue and white. So, this is what the planet looked like, the man thought, trying to imagine what it would have been like to live there. 

The Big Blue was no more. Not that it had disappeared, but the blue wasn't there to be seen anymore. A heavy cloak of pollution shaded the sunrays, and, from up there in the starry immensity, only the greyish swirls in the atmosphere could be seen. The Earth was dying, slowly suffocating.

What had happened to the beautiful and lively planet was a long story. Though, to make it short, a one word explanation was all it took: Man. Man had abused the gifts of Mother Nature. Man had overexploited the Earth resources, robing her of her jewels, shredding her mantel and scarring her flesh so deep she would never recover from it.

Man had always been known for his unextinguished thirst. His thirst of knowledge became a thirst of possessions. Wanting more, always... Nothing could hinder his ambition, or strip him off his ultimate objective: becoming a God. Nothing, but the Earth herself.

After decades, centuries, millennia of ravage, the result was bleak. Extinct species, destroyed flora, deserts covered the biggest part of the planet and seas and oceans had been reduced to big lake. Humankind was now an endangered species as well.

The balance of power was clearly drawn. Among the few remaining humans, a small group was deciding for the others, or despite the others, the future of the Earth. They controlled the resources, food and knowledge supply chains. They were the Government, an ersatz of the ruling councils that managed countries and regions of the World centuries ago. The Government was no more than a tightly organized mafia terrorizing the rest of the population. Their control was over everything.

Controlling the fuel procurement was crucial in these times. As all natural resources had been exploited and grounds and water contaminated, only what could be found in a natural state was available, though no much remained. The attempt to replace the crude by some vegetal oil had been a short experiment. The soils were so badly polluted that nothing could spring from it anymore. The civilization arrived at one point were its survival was questioned. Nevertheless, the Government continued to supply oil ration tickets, along with food and water.

The light from the monitors reflected on the crystal jewel the man wore on his left ear.

"I am in. I got assigned to the convoy. I was granted access to the warehouse. All went according to plan."  The man was talking to himself, or so it seemed.

The bud on his ear was a new communication device the rebels had commissioned. So far, the Government was not aware of the many properties some crystals had. The resonance was a steady source of energy. The men who controlled oil food and water never thought about looking for alternative sources of energy. They were so attached to the old ways, trying to protect any advantage they thought they had, that they overlooked new ideas and technology.

Those deprived of oil had to find other ways to run the engines used in vehicles or production tools. At some point, solar energy was envisaged, but with the heavy pollution cloud circling the Earth, it wasn't quite reliable. The crystal resonance had been a great discovery, and a well-kept secret within the rank of the rebel hierarchy.

Other attempts at replacing oil, while it was obvious the resource was getting rare, had always been countered by the lobbying of the two or three megacorps generous funding of the Government hierarchs' way of life. It even went to a stage were any renewable energy was outlawed. These kind of decisions had increased the gap between the Government, and their goons, and the regular citizens who had no choice but to continue suffering the random distribution of ration tickets for every of their needs.

The suffering, however, was a clever plot to keep the appearance of a subdued population. In reality, the majority of the citizens let the Government govern and control the old technologies so they could be left on their own, building an alternate society based on shared responsibility and common sense. The outsiders maintained a low profile when it came to exchanging with the people living in the cities, under the yoke of the Government.

Though for a long time the low-key rule had been observed steadily, in recent years the situation with the depleted resource of petrol had some people asking questions and fearing for their future. The rebels had set to solve the mystery of the provenance of the juice. Two rumors were circulating, one in favor of some deep drilling project in the Earth mantel, and the other of an outer space origin.

The later was the more plausible. It had become evident to the people of the outside that the Government was threading on thin ice with their stock of oil. The outsiders decided few months ago to organize an infiltration operation and sent the best man they had. Boyle was athletic. To pass as a guard, his physique was just perfect, he looked like a not too bright yes-man. It didn't mean he wasn't smart, far from it, just that appearances were sometimes deceptive.

Boyle was finally in the place, after a month or so of proving his worth to the higher ups. The fact that he was accepted so soon just showed the dire situation on the population front. The cities under the Government boot were dying slowly, people getting sick and old, disappearing at a high rate, higher than expected even, considering the poor quality and quantity of available food and water supply.

The convoy was now entering the warehouse were the tanks would be filled in with the crude. Boyle joined the crew stationed around the trucks. In this building were the reserves for the city. The fuel was transported from an unknown location. This was the point of origin that the spy was looking for. He was imagining a high security lab full of alien technology, hidden somewhere in the forest surrounding the city walls.

"Hey! Boyle!" The team leader called, "you will go with team B for the last refill journey. Tom is out."

"Okay!" The outsider was surprised how easy his infiltration was progressing. "What happened to Tom?"

"He is sick, that's all. Seems he got whatever virus the population has. I told him not to go and mix with the girls back in the red-light. He shall have known better..." The man was acerb. "Look, you're new, so I will tell you this once only. If you want to live long, you better stick with the guard house and don't go in the city." He left abruptly, reminding the guard to hope with Team B on the convoy.

Boyle's mind was rushing to assimilate this short conversation. Did the leader implied that the Government knew about an epidemic episode in the city and didn't do anything for it? No wonder the exchange with the city guys had been fewer during the last months. If the population was declining...

The cisterns on the trucks were now empty, the guards ready for their last trip for the day. Boyle joined his assigned truck. He was intent on remembering everything about the route taken, road signs, landmarks, any useful information he could report to the rebels.

During the journey he talked with the others on his team. With covert remarks he tried to get more information on their destination, though the guys weren't really into the discussion or didn't show much interest in what was going on. It was just a job for them and they were well paid for it.

When they arrived to their destination, Boyle had a good idea of the location. He was satisfied he would be able to mark it on the map. The trucks passed through two guarded gates, by men and dogs. The men verified the identification of the drivers and passengers while the animals sniffed all they could around the vehicles. Laser machine-gun were judiciously placed to block any kamikaze attempts by road, and scanners were reading the convoy piece by piece to ensure no extra unwelcomed passengers were onboard.

Boyle didn't miss any elements of the security protocol in place at the oil production site. It was probably proof that whatever happened inside was a secret the Government wanted to be kept at all cost. Alien technology usually had this effect on mafia bosses and other dictators.

The plant occupied a vast expense of land in the middle of nowhere. Trees bordered the site on three sides and only the gates area was on open ground. Four buildings composed the whole. Boyle discovered their function when discussing with the guards on gate duty. One was for the loading of the fuel, the one where the trucks were directed to, another for the reception of raw material, the last two for administration and lodging purpose. It was the second building that interested the spy. The mention of raw material intrigued him, therefore he set his mind in finding, in exploring the premises.

The men accompanying the convoy had few hours to spend before the refill of the cisterns was completed. They were directed to the lodging building where a cafeteria and lounge were located. During their stay, they were attributed badges that could open certain areas and would identify them as visitors.

It took half an hour for Boyle to find a badge which would let him go in the unloading zone. Some guards were not too concerned by the security measures inside the plant. The spy found a badge conveniently waiting for him in the locker room, along with a set of clothes that would let him walk inconspicuous in the buildings.

As he was approaching the warehouse where the raw material were received, he saw another convoy entering the premises by another gate. He didn't see this gate at first, but now that he was observing the scene he identified an opening in the east wall, through the surrounding forested area. The trucks in this convoy were regular tractors with their containers, with no obvious sign of what was inside.

Boyle eased himself inside the building, passing from one door to another. The side entrance he took directed him through cuves and cisterns, barrels and crates. So far, he couldn't see any trace of alien technology. He continued to another area where immense furnaces glowed, a greenish bubbling liquid leaking through thick glassy tubes. It looked like a giant alembic.

The design didn't look like alien to Boyle's eyes. He devised that, if the technology wasn't alien, the material used, however, could be. The spy retraced his steps to the entrance of the building and went to observe the unloading of the containers. Hiding behind some crates, he observed as a number of men and women got down the first container. They all looked sick, walking slowly, their back bent, their gaze on the ground.

Boyle's eyes followed the group of citizen entering a room through a door marked 'Dispatch'. Once the way was cleared, he approached the door and listened to the armed men guiding the group.

"The hospital is almost empty now," one said.

"I recon we will have to find other sources from now on," the second replied.

A third men was listening, nodding his head. "We got our instructions for the next roundup. There is an orphanage on 8th and Main. The quarantine was already declared."

The three men continued talking about places where the contamination seemed to have spread in the city.

Boyle was slowly starting to understand. There were no alien technology, no alien or material from space. In this plant, there were only people. Sick people. And perhaps some not so sick. The Government had found a new source to produce their oil...