216 - Lesspionage


The top-secret lab’s siren blares in your ears as you run down the hall. A voice comes over the base’s PA system. “Al units, intruder alert! Be advised: it’s Bill again, guys. Take appropriate measures.”

Ha, you think, they remember me. Not surprising, as you’ve infiltrated Area 69 more times than any other freelance spy on record. Not successful infiltrations, per se, but you get points for attempts.

You round the corner just before the exit, coming face-to-face with two annoyed-looking guards with their guns drawn and pointed at you.

The PA squawks again. “Don’t shoot him, guys. It’s Bill. You know he’s not all there.”

The guards look at each other, then back at you, and roll their eyes as they holster their side-arms.

You smirk at the guards. “Not all here?” you chuckle. “Soon I won’t be here at all!” You laugh at run straight toward the guards, ducking low and shoulder-checking the one on the right. You’re pretty sure his name is Don. Don goes flying into the concrete wall on the right and you speed past. “Ta-ta, gents!” you should mockingly.

You look over your shoulder, fully expecting to see the sentries chasing after you. Instead you see the other guard hunched over Don. “Jeez, Bill!” he shouts down the hall after you. “I mean, really! You’re gonna hurt somebody one day pulling this crap!”

You clear the door out of the facility, and one final hurdle stands before you. You can’t very well cross the heavily-guarded earthen foot crossing through the oxbow lake that surrounds the lab – you’re going to have to swim it. That’s precisely why you brought the latest super-spy gadget from Wal Labs, the Open-Circuit Underwater Breathing Apparatus (OpCUBA). You jump in the lake and, once underwater, deploy the apparatus. Swimming underwater with the apparatus allowing you to breathe unobstructed, you are fully secure in the notion that you are completely undetectable.

Because you are not a real spy, however, and because the OpCUBA is in fact a five-dollar snorkel from Wal-Mart in your favorite color, highly-visible neon yellow, you stick out like a sore thumb. The guards are waiting for you when you come ashore on the other side of the lake. They stuff you in the back of their olive drab jeep and drive you home.

“We’re just worried Bill is going to get himself or someone else hurt, Ms. Jones,” Don tells mother at the door.

You watch from the top of the stairs as mother nods silently. From the angle you’re at, you can’t see the look of grave concern on mother’s face.

Don and mother exchange a few more polite words, after which the guards leave and mother closes the front door softly. She watches through the window until the headlights of the jeep fade from view, the turns toward the stairs. “Bill!” she calls from the base of the stairs. “I know you were listening! Get your butt down here right now!”

You descend the stairs sullenly, your eyes locked firmly on your toes. Looking much like a dog caught nosing through the trash, you stop at the last step and refuse to meet mother’s gaze.

“What did I tell you about goint to that lab and tussling with those guards?” mother asks.

You cross your arms and grunt.

Bill! Look at me!” Mother’s shout shakes you to your core and your arms unfold almost automatically. You snap to attention and look mother in the eye. “What did I say?”

“Y-you said b-be careful and don’t get c-caught,” you stutter.

“That’s right,” replies M.O.T.H.E.R. “Now, did you get the documents?