Training for his first ultra-marathon, Bobby runs. The thirty-two-year-old lanky man runs every day. Today, he stops. At the edge of the dirt road, up Big Canyon Creek Valley, Bobby gazes into the brush, spying a shiny metal case. He leans left, bends down, shuffles a step to the right. Once a path through the scruffy foliage exposes itself, Bobby slinks and slides down a rocky slope to the would-be treasure. As he inspects the double set of latches on the aluminum case, he hears a noise. The whoosh of mechanical mayhem comes close. In a rush. Bobby slips deeper into the thicket and toward the creek bed below, while…