“I hate Safaris,” Jay, the mechanic, grumbled, kicking the ugly old van’s tires. “Safaris and Savanas, Seriously the ugliest vans GMC ever made.” She pulled her dirty blond hair into a messy bun before popping the hood.

“Worse than the Chevy Astro?” Mace, her boyfriend asked. He was sitting in his usual place, a desk next to the door that led from the house to the garage, where the wifi signal was best. His white rimmed glasses contrasted starkly with his chestnut brown skin. He had two laptops open in front of him and a tablet propped up on one knee against the front of the small desk.

“They’re basically the same thing,” Jay grumbled. She tested a few different size sockets on an engine bolt before deciding on the right size and getting to work. Mace kissed her goodnight and went inside to sleep while she worked.

By morning she had the rusty, pale blue van stripped. The engine, transmission and all but the driver’s seats were gone. Then Mace got to work installing monitors and other computer components in the back of the van while she went in the house to catch a few hours of sleep.

That afternoon Chip, their boss, delivered the new engine.

“Damn ugly,” Chip commented when they saw the Safari, “but it’ll do.”

Jay came back out from the house, freshly showered and holding a large orange coffee mug. She helped Chip unload the new engine from the back of their truck. It was much smaller than the hunk of metal now suspended by a pulley from the garage rafters, not much bigger than a mailbox and fully electric. In their day job as a civilian contractor with the Air Force Chip had access to a lot of the newest top secret tech. They never said how they managed to smuggle these things out, and Jay didn’t ask.

By evening the team’s latest project was complete. Jay drove it across town to the junk yard, to join the rest of the fleet hiding in plain sight. Mace followed her in his much smaller Nissan Leaf. They would stop for dinner at their favorite local taco shop on the way home to celebrate a job well done.

The junkyard manager whistled as Jay backed the Safari into line between an off white Ford Club Wagon and a smaller, red Chevy HHR with a good size dent in the front fender and hood.

“I think that is the ugliest hunk of junk you’ve brought me yet,” he said as he took the keys.

“Getting ready for the revolution in style as always,” she answered with a wink.