Monique was perfect for the cause. She was young, earnest, eager, and impressionable. She was pretty, innocent, waifish, with the sort of big blue eyes and long skinny legs and modest, upturned breasts that would turn heads. And best of all, her father was an executive at SanChem. She could and would filch the necessary keys and procure the needed codes and passwords.

It didn’t take much to convince Monique that SanChem was thoroughly evil. “Think of the babies born with one eye and two penises,” they told her. “All because their mothers munched genetically modified crops courtesy of SanChem’s despicable and insidious seed.”

It didn’t take much to convince Monique that action was needed. “Someone’s got to tell the world about this, and who better than you? Someone’s got to take the first step in stopping this diabolical atrocity, and who better than you?”

Long after normal business hours, Monique used her dad’s passcard to get them through the gate and into the garage of SanChem’s executive tower. She punched in the elevator code. “You know what to do?” they said as they waited for the elevator to arrive. Monique nodded solemnly. Just earlier they’d prepared her with as much warm lemonade and light beer as she could hold.

Monique entered the elevator and turned to face them. She smiled wanly, got into a crouch, and lifted the short smock they’d had her wear.

“That’s it,” they said. “A little higher. Good. Now pee.”

“You’re sure this is the best way to send the right message?” the girl questioned.

“Yes,” they said. “Now piss.”

“And you’re only going to show, to show ... You’re not going to show my face?”

“That’s right,” they assured her. “Now piss, please. The camera is running.”

Dutifully, Monique urinated – a few dribbles at first, then a stout spurting squirt, then a steady stream. The puddle grew beneath her feet.

“That’s great,” they said. “Beautiful. Keep it coming.”

Monique’s waterfall continued for some seconds and then diminished to a wee drizzle, a few last droplets.

“Wonderful,” they said. “You did great. But before you get up, do you think you could, you know...?”

“What?” Monique gave them a questioning look.

“Shit,” they said.

Monique’s face registered her surprise. “You mean go number two?”

“That’s right. It would be so perfect. It would add so much to the statement.”

“I don’t think I can,” Monique said.

“Could you try?”

“I don’t know about this.”

“Please try,” they said. “It would mean so much to the cause.”

“Okay,” the girl said in a small voice.

“Could you swivel around first so you’re facing the other way?”

“Why?”

“So we could see it coming out. That would make it so much more genuine. So everyone would know it wasn’t faked.”