Zyra watched from the bushes as a perimeter drone whizzed
by, microwaves scorching the ground below it. A low-swooping
swallow burst into flame as it passed below the grey,
flying, metal box.
‘Stupid bird!’ whispered Zyra, as she noted
that it had been exactly three minutes and four seconds
since the drone last passed.
Zyra wore gloves, boots and a neck-to-ankle, plastialloy,
microfibre jumpsuit. A balaclava with mirrored lenses
completed the ensemble. It wouldn’t do much to stop
a bullet, but it was perfect protection from the razor-sharp
leaves that surrounded her. These fancy houses on the
Hill had all manner of weird security, but razor bushes
were easy enough to get through if wearing the right clothing.
And Zyra prided herself on always wearing the right outfit
for the occasion.
She peered up at the perimeter wall through the leaves.
It was a metre in from the surrounding bushes and looked
like traditional bluestone. The sort of wall you’d
find surrounding a prison or an orphanage. But in her
line of work, Zyra knew never to simply accept the obvious.
That’s why she was taking the time to reconnoitre
the property before planning the break-in. For all she
knew, the wall could be encased in an electro-static barrier,
or criss-crossed with invisible laser beams, or even –
Not a real bluestone wall at all!
As Zyra watched, a portion of the wall shimmered.
Damn! she thought. Some beggar’s workin’
me turf.
