Secret Agent Man
Apr. 24th, 2008 05:28 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
penfield"It is sometimes expedient to forget who we are."
- Publilius Syrus (Latin writer, philosopher, maximist)
At approximately 11:15 this morning, my work cell phone rang. It's pretty unusual when my work cell phone rings at all, much less during the business day; it is used mostly for receiving after-hours e-mails from coworkers with essential messages like "Thanks!" and "Are you free for a meeting next Thursday?"
The caller ID said "unavailable" or "undisclosed" or something, which was also sort of strange. I thought it might be someone from a Capitol Hill office, or a reporter's private cell phone, so I answered the phone with reserved professionalism. On the other end, with breathless urgency, a male voice said,
"Special Agent Barry!"
It was like a throwaway line of dialogue from a Tom Cruise movie, spoken with total command and conviction. I froze for a moment, then gathered myself and calmly said "I think you have the the wrong number, sir."
"I do?" he replied, incredulously, as if it was the first time he had ever dialed a phone number incorrectly. And then he hung up.
All sorts of scenarios went through my head. Maybe there was an actual FBI emergency somewhere, like a firefight or a hostage negotiation, and this person on the other end of my phone needed Special Agent Barry to hurry to the scene. Or maybe the person calling was an evil mastermind, ready to give Special Agent Barry a devious riddle to solve that would reveal the location of a secret hideout. Or it could have been a frustrated IRS supervisor ready to chew Special Agent Barry for being late to work.
I also wondered what kind of snappy answers I could have given in response to the voice. Like, "I wish to be called by my code name: Spanky." Or "Special Agent Barry is waterboarding an enemy combatant right now. Can I take a message?" (I'm not sure I could have topped ERD's suggestion: "No, this is Mulder. Want to talk to Scully?")
And then I thought more seriously. What if I had pretended to be Special Agent Barry? What if I had simply responded "yes, sir!" What would have happened? Would they have used satellites to triangulate my location, then send an official escort to take me to headquarters, then thrust me into a world of political intrigue where nothing is as it seems -- all while never asking for identification?
Oooh -- Or maybe I really am Special Agent Barry -- a sleeper agent, trained as a youth, implanted with artificial memories and observed from afar, only to be activated by a mysterious phone call in a moment of international crisis. And maybe this journal entry is being written by someone else in a top-secret computer lab, just to cover for me, so that my friends and family don't get too suspicious before I can complete my mission and go back to my double life.
Far out.
- Publilius Syrus (Latin writer, philosopher, maximist)
At approximately 11:15 this morning, my work cell phone rang. It's pretty unusual when my work cell phone rings at all, much less during the business day; it is used mostly for receiving after-hours e-mails from coworkers with essential messages like "Thanks!" and "Are you free for a meeting next Thursday?"
The caller ID said "unavailable" or "undisclosed" or something, which was also sort of strange. I thought it might be someone from a Capitol Hill office, or a reporter's private cell phone, so I answered the phone with reserved professionalism. On the other end, with breathless urgency, a male voice said,
"Special Agent Barry!"
It was like a throwaway line of dialogue from a Tom Cruise movie, spoken with total command and conviction. I froze for a moment, then gathered myself and calmly said "I think you have the the wrong number, sir."
"I do?" he replied, incredulously, as if it was the first time he had ever dialed a phone number incorrectly. And then he hung up.
All sorts of scenarios went through my head. Maybe there was an actual FBI emergency somewhere, like a firefight or a hostage negotiation, and this person on the other end of my phone needed Special Agent Barry to hurry to the scene. Or maybe the person calling was an evil mastermind, ready to give Special Agent Barry a devious riddle to solve that would reveal the location of a secret hideout. Or it could have been a frustrated IRS supervisor ready to chew Special Agent Barry for being late to work.
I also wondered what kind of snappy answers I could have given in response to the voice. Like, "I wish to be called by my code name: Spanky." Or "Special Agent Barry is waterboarding an enemy combatant right now. Can I take a message?" (I'm not sure I could have topped ERD's suggestion: "No, this is Mulder. Want to talk to Scully?")
And then I thought more seriously. What if I had pretended to be Special Agent Barry? What if I had simply responded "yes, sir!" What would have happened? Would they have used satellites to triangulate my location, then send an official escort to take me to headquarters, then thrust me into a world of political intrigue where nothing is as it seems -- all while never asking for identification?
Oooh -- Or maybe I really am Special Agent Barry -- a sleeper agent, trained as a youth, implanted with artificial memories and observed from afar, only to be activated by a mysterious phone call in a moment of international crisis. And maybe this journal entry is being written by someone else in a top-secret computer lab, just to cover for me, so that my friends and family don't get too suspicious before I can complete my mission and go back to my double life.
Far out.
