Don‘t get it wrong this time, don’t get it wrong I told myself for the hundredth time today.
„According to information obtained by members of my spy network, the sabotage is planned out of a safe house close to the embassy on Arakesh road.“ I blurred out to my handler and his boss.
„What did I say?“ the handler asked triumphantly. „I knew we could trust him.“

God damnit again I thought, when I realized I told the truth and revealed the location I was supposed to keep secret. Again.

The boss nodded lightly. He sounded cautious, but content: „it appears so we can trust Dr. Livingston. Thank you Doctor, the people of B‘Yelano owe you for your services. Your information is going to save hundreds of lifes.“ He paused for a moment and added „If your information proves to be true.“

I did not dare to say anything. I learned the hard way only to speak, when asked. Too fresh is the memory of prison on D‘Yalak, the home planet of the other war party. The other war party‘s sabotage act I was supposed to keep a secret. I had provided General Kenta with the location of the safe house, a mission to redeem my status as an agent. The General, as well as his B‘Yelan counterpart both employ me as agent, double-agent, triple-agent. I lost count how often I changed the side and revealed things. I‘m in the thousands now, at least. But for some reason they still trust me.
If my therapist is to be believed, it’s because I’m a Doctor. Though I’m not really a Doctor

„I check in with Observation to get a look on the house. Possibly we can liquidate them tonight“ my handler told us, while standing up and moving to leave the room.

His boss, a Colonel by rank, nods lightly again and offered me a cup of Hogosha tea down the road, at the tea house by the lake. I accept knowing I don’t have a choice. We leave the building in silence.
At the time we‘ve grabbed our tea and walk by the lake I‘m as nervous as on my first day on the job. I‘m well aware what it means if an officer invites you for tea. A new mission awaits me.

The colonel leans against a tree for wind protection to light a cigarette, when he suddenly exclaimed: „Are you out of your fucking mind? Why would you tell us this. If General Kenta gets wind of this, you’re spending the rest of your life in prison.“.

His sharp tone in his voice scares me and the paranoia kicks in. Why is he saying that? Is he saying that because he wants to protect his double-triple-quadruple-agent or is he himself a double agent?.

To win some time I take another sip from my tea. I understand why so many employees of the agency spend their breaks at the tea house.

„I‘m tired, Colonel.“ I tell him speaking truly. I pause for a brief moment and start walking away. Away from the lies and deception. Away from a war that already killed thousands of souls in over a decade.
Truth be told I don‘t know how long I can stay out of it this time. Two weeks would be nice. I could use some vacation.

I always answer questions as honestly and truthfully as I can. I've found it gets me into fun and interesting situations. Like the time that man sat next to me on a park bench and asked me "Do you know what the weather is like in Tahiti?"

"I don't, but I assume it's better than here," I answered, before being handed a bag.

"Take that to the Swedish embassy and pass it to the Ambassador's aide. All additional information is inside," the man said before standing up and walking away. I tried to stop him to ask why he didn't just do it himself, but he was moving so quickly. Besides, the Swedish embassy wasn't very far. I could pass this package along to his friend for him. I wasn't that busy that day.

Inside the bag was a portable hard drive and a photo with a name written on the back. I memorized the name (or at least how I imagined it was pronounced) and asked for him once I reached the embassy. I passed off the bag and began to make my way back to the park.

It was then that I was approached by two men in suits who offered me a ride. I couldn't say no to a ride, so I got into their black van, expecting to be dropped off at the park. Instead, they insisted on showing me an underground facility they had constructed to interrogate criminals. Then for the next few hours we just had a chat about my day over some coffee. When we were done, they dropped me off at my house. (It was too late for the park.)

A few days later, while I was taking a shortcut through an alley in Koreatown, a gentleman approached me offering a lot of money for information on the underground facility I was taken to. I told him to put his money away and told him everything I knew about the facility. He was so grateful, he offered me an all-expenses-paid vacation to Pyongyang, the Capital of North Korea. I was initially worried because I thought that North Korea was the bad one, but this man assured me it was not, so I graciously accepted.

A few days later, I was approached by two gentleman who said they worked for MI:5. I was very impressed because I love the Mission Impossible movies and number 5 is one of the best ones. They asked me if I would be able to bring them with me to Pyongyang. If I did, they would be able to reward me with another vacation, this time to merry old England. How could I resist?

I asked the kind Korean man to allow me to take my new friends with me. He was initially skeptical until I assured them they were just film makers, not spies.

Pyongyang was fun, but too short. I feel like I didn't get to experience the "real" North Korea, you know? Also, the two guys from MI:5 were constantly sneaking off during the whole trip, never telling me what they were doing. Hollywood types, right?

Our next stop was London, but first, a stop-over in Moscow where I met two very nice guys who were also on their way to London. They said they couldn't tell me who they worked for so I assumed they were also Hollywood types working on some big budget sequel, so I introduced them to the people I was traveling with. I told them that they worked for MI:5. My new Russian friends were so excited that they immediately took my MI:5 friends into a private room, likely to discuss insider filmmaker stuff. It looked like I'd be flying to London alone.

London was nice. The day before I was going to visit the set of MI:5, I was walking in the Iranian district and found myself in a back-room hookah lounge playing dominoes with a group of friendly guys who made hummus for a living. They were extremely interested that I'd be visiting MI:5 the next day. They were so interested that they asked me to wear a hidden camera so they could experience the event for themselves. I was happy to oblige. After all, I think we should all get to experience the magic of visiting a film set.

Skip forward another few weeks, I'm staying as the guest of the Emir somewhere in the middle east. This place, let me tell you, was palatial. I have never experienced luxury of this kind. I posted a bunch of pictures of social media and was getting hit up left and right by strangers who wanted more information on the place I was staying and the man who owned it. The one that caught my eye the most was a guy who said he worked for Mos Sad, the rapper from Black Star. He said he was willing to pay me a lot of money if I could send him a bunch of high resolution photos of the residence and grounds, complete with GPS tags. I told him to put his money away. Just like the movie sets, I think everyone should be able to experience this kind of luxury, even if it's virtually.

When I got back home, the guys who had the underground facility invited me back for another coffee chat. I told them all about my time in Pyongyang, Moscow, London and the UAE. I told them about Mission Impossible 5 and Mos Sad. The story seemed to make them really angry. I guess they were jealous of the jet-setting lifestyle I was living.

They dropped me off at home and told me to keep this secret recorder on me at all times in case any other fun things happen to me. I obliged, considering how jealous these guys seemed to be of me. The recording device was nice, but not as nice as the other recording devices I've been given over the years. I find it clunky to carry seven little microphones with you wherever you go, but what can I say? People just love to listen in on my little adventures.

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