Rebel

When the authorities arrived, they came not for Andrew (which everyone assumed, for he had participated in the marches and been photographed at the last riot with his fist raised), but for Grandpa. While the others had taken to the streets, Grandpa had taken to the interwebs and taught himself how to hack. Silently and without fanfare, he had entered the city's financial framework, rerouted the odd penny or two from various sources that "rounded up" into a program that converted these resources into energy credits, and had effectively been paying the heating and cooling bills of the poor for almost two years. "I love you," Grandma said with pride, and he'd given her a wink as they led him away in handcuffs. Andrew stood, stunned, in the middle of the living room. "I don't understand," he whispered eventually. "You come by it honestly, dear," his grandmother said gently, patting his arm.. Andrew looked at her, confused, and she added, "Your rebel blood."