Excerpt from the novel Infiltrator by S.M. Stirling

ECOLOGY EXPO, NEW YORK: PRESENT DAY
     “This is boring,” Peter Ziedman said. He frowned and shifted the heavy camera on his shoulder.
     “No kidding,” his soundman and college bud Tony Roth agreed. “It’s nothing like what I expected.”
     They glared at the neatly set-up booths and the casually well-dressed people around them. Even the loopier outfits had cost real money, you could see that. They’d been expecting a lot more over-the-rainbow stuff from the New York Ecology Fair.
     Ziedman had been pinning his hopes on it, in fact. He’d graduated from Chapman University only two months ago, with honors, and already his dad was asking, “So what did I spend my money for?”
     Like you could get a full-fledged movie together over the weekend. Well, okay, some people had done that, but not lately, and probably not while sober.
     So Peter had decided to do a documentary on an inspired madman. They’d find their guy at a place like this and then follow him around while he tried to convert the world. It would be hilarious.
     But what he’d found instead was a slew of start-up businesses looking for venture capitalists. And while he knew there was a story worth telling in that, at the moment he needed something fast, easy, and moderately entertaining from the first shot. The story of water-purification devices just wasn’t going to do that.
     “Where are the nuts?” he shouted.
     A young woman beside a solar-energy display turned to look at him. “The Rain Forest Products booth is giving away Brazil nuts in aisle four.” She pointed vaguely in that direction.
     Ziedman looked at her; she was attractive in a washed-out, WASPy kind of way. He walked over to her and said, “I’m making a documentary and I was hoping for some more colorful characters to spice up the narrative.” He shrugged and then shifted the camera. “It can’t be all facts and figures.”
     She nodded, looking vaguely disapproving. That was when he noticed that her badge said she was the fair’s cochair.
     “So what exactly are you looking for?” she asked.
     Peter thought that he was probably very lucky that she wasn’t asking him to leave, as he hadn’t received permission from the fair to film here. She looked capable of kicking him out. He decided to be honest.
     “I’m looking for someone with a message,” he said. “Someone who can’t get anyone to listen but who thinks he, or she, can save the world. You know anybody like that?”
     She laughed, and it changed her whole face. She really was attractive. “Oohhh yes,” she said. “I know tons of people like that. But they tend to avoid places like this. To them we’re all sellouts.” She looked around and seemed to spot someone. Pointing to a tired-looking man on a folding chair near the door, she said, “Try him. That’s Ron Labane. He used to be a pretty good guy, associated with a small, fairly successful organic farm in Washington state.” She shook her head. “Now… it’s kinda sad really. He’s got a book he’s trying to get published. He’s kind of into a lone-wolf thing right now.”
     Ziedman looked at the man. He was wearing tan chinos and a sport jacket over a sweater vest and an open-collared blue shirt. Though he was clean-shaven and his hair was neat, there was something a little shop-worn about him. His whole body spoke of discouragement and exhaustion.
     Peter turned on the camera and zoomed in on him. As if by instinct, like the lone wolf the woman had named him, Labane turned to look directly into the lens. He raised one brow and with a lopsided smile raised his hand and gestured Peter over.
     “Thanks,” Ziedman said to the woman. He and Tony hustled over.