- Sometimes, one has to stand up- thougth Frank.

Of average face and sligth overweight, he usually got passed over without a second glance, only his hazel eyes got him noticed. Not a bright student in his youth, discreet success in the pursue of female affection, less than popular, and cronically short of money, he would have been just one more of the BTU raiders, droning away his life in moderate squalor.

That would have been lucky.

Instead, ten years ago, he got a job as junior accountant in a well known gobal fintech firm. Not a very bright worker, but a dedicated one, he got promotions out of sheer effort, extra hours, and a very keen sense to avoid pissing off his bosses at each rung of the corporate ladder.

- And to think a week ago I was thinking I had it all done. -He kept brooding over a cup of sinth-noodles- Just a couple more years and my shares would have kept me out of Prole housing for the rest of my life. But no, I had to dig...

Resigning himself, he threw the empty cup into the waste chute and checked his internal organizer. Still one hour to burn till the meeting with the prosecutor agents. Out of nervousness, he checked into the subdermal pocket. There was no way the data would drop out in the street, as it was firmly sewed inside his body. Nor there was a chance for it to be revealed in any metal detector. Solid state quantum memories being organic in nature guaranteed it. Neither could their contents be accessed without him reciting the pass-phrase without being under duress or the effects of any drug.

With all his bases covered, he started walking off to the nearest drop-off for shared vehicles. No sense making a reservation on his name to give anyone a tip of when and where he would be in advance. Not that anyone should be looking out for him.

Yet.

The meeting was going as he expected. The two agents were cordial and professional, but not exactly making it a point to be friendly. They had all the relevant information on his case, and even the DA-recommended sentence of one year without parole. No effort was made to make him feel at ease, nor they attempted to extract any information from him.

"So, how did you find the drive?" asked the older agent with a tone of someone trying to get a conversation going.

"In the trash in my work desk." replied Frank, looking directly into the agent's eyes.

"Well, I would have expected that. You seem quite fond of your work." -Said the younger agent, in a mocking tone that did not go unnoticed by Frank. "I mean, you worked there for ten years, right? Never took a day off."

"Not my fault I never got sick." replied Frank with a shrug of his shoulders. "When it comes to work... it's just easier if you do what you're supposed to do."

The tale has been illicitly lifted; should you spot it on Amazon, report the violation.

"And that would be?" -Asked the older agent.

"The job, right? No time for personal matters when you're working." -He said with a grin. It was the same smile he used to fool his way through countless interviews and dates when he was younger. He used to get away with anything with that grin. He still had it, but somehow it didn't work as well as before.

The younger agent didn't say anything for a few seconds, and then went back to reading his tablet. The older one simply stared at him for a few seconds before getting up and leaving the room for the bathroom without another word. For some reason he had gone pale in an instant and started sweating profusely in such a way that Frank could almost smell it through his suit- A sign of real stress indeed! Or fear. Fear of what? He didn't know yet... As soon as he was alone in the room with his partner Frank turned towards him with an inquisitive look on his face

"How about we talk about this?" -He said in a low voice- "You know I'm not guilty".