The Search for Sam by Pittacus Lore Page B

a forum dedicated to readers of some publication called “They Walk
     Among Us.” The Mogadorian mainframe has isolated a thread titled “NEXT ISSUE?” posted
     by a user TWAUFAN182. A threaded dialogue unfolds when I click on it.
         Please I’ve read TWAU no. 3 so many times. Please tell me when next ish will come
     out? Thanks! ☺—TWAUFAN182
         Sorry TWAUFAN. No plans for issue #4 yet, but be assured we have plenty material for
     one. Thanks for reading.—admin
         What? What material? U can’t leave us hanging like that! Spill it!—TWAUFAN182
         Come on man, give us a hint!!!—TWAUFAN182
         It’s been weeks with no updates. This forum is dead, RIP. LOL.—TWAUFAN182
    That exchange was dated a year ago. Then, this morning …
         Sorry. Been busy. We’ve made contact, definitely extraterrestrial. True MOG in captivity.—admin
    I almost gasp. There are humans out there who have captured a Mogadorian? Or who at
     least think they’ve captured a Mogadorian?
    I know at once that this is the first link that’s passed through my monitor that’s
     truly worthy of an “EHP” ranking. I click on the hyperlink and drag it over to the
     “Investigate” directory … but then I stop.
    Why would I alert the Mogadorians to the location of these humans? Humans the Mogs
     will undoubtedly capture and kill? I might get in trouble if I discard the link—surely
     there are failsafes built into the system for erroneous Discards—but why should I
     make it easier for these Mogadorian bastards? By discarding this link, I will save
     a human life … or at least slow down the Mogadorian hunting machine for a few minutes.
    It’s worth it .
    I don’t care if I live or die. If One is gone and I’m stuck in this vile society,
     why should I fight to live? The pleasure of outperforming Serkova has faded; besides,
     with rankings like my current ones, that ship has sailed.
    I click Discard.
    They’ll come for you .
    In my bones, I know I’m going to reap hell for what I’ve done. And I don’t care.
    Fuck the Mogadorians .
    I start dumping every link on my monitor into the Discard directory, as fast as I
     can. There’s no upper limit on the number of links that can get routed to a single
     monitor—the more links you process, the more get routed your way—so before I know
     it I’ve chucked upwards of three hundred links into the Discard directory.
    I’m making a spectacular mess of their system. The clock counts down to the end of
     the hour. How many unevaluated Discards can I cram into the directory before my fellow
     surveyors catch on? For that matter, how long until my treasonous evidence-burying
     gets discovered?
    I’m exhilarated.
    The hourly rankings come in. I’ve discarded 611 links. Investigated 0. My provisional
     accuracy ranking is a hilarious 11 percent. Better yet, as if to make a mockery of
     their entire ranking algorithm, I come in first place.
    “What the hell, Adamus!” Serkova snarls at me. The others turn around to face me,
     all the work in the surveyor facility grinding to a halt. No one knows how to react
     to my total breakdown. “Are you fricking nuts?”
    I smile at Serkova, dizzy from my own outlandish behavior. “Yeah, I think I might
     be.”
    Then an alarm goes off.
    I hear the heavy march of footsteps coming down the hall: soldiers dispatched from
     HQ.
    “You deserve whatever you get,” says Serkova, spitting at me.
    I run.
    I dodge out into the Northwest tunnel to see the soldiers coming, fronted by the General.
     They look pissed .
    If I’m going out, I’m going out with a bang. I run towards the marching guards … then pull to a stop in front of Zakos’s lab.
    “Hey Pops,” I say, taunting the General. “Did I do something wrong?”
    “You know what you’ve done,” he sneers at me. He gestures to the guards to seize me.
    I resist, swinging my arms wildly, shouting as loud as I can. The Mogadorians hardly
     know how to