As our tantalising tale of espionage draws to a close, one particular incident grasps me in the depths of my malleable memory - an eerie sight that would make the most seasoned oculist quiver in their loafers. I, admittedly, have seen the strangest belly buttons on the arms of an alien species once; however, this was an odd spectacle beyond anything in my spy rearview mirror.
Meeting with high-ranking suntanned officials in Tahiti paired with Mai Tai cocktails, I noticed a peculiar phenomenon playing out in their eyes. It seemed their irises were dancing a visually discordant jig, squirming on a microscopic scale even as they maintained eye contact. It was like observing two Morse code operators blink in sync, a surreptitious message in their irises, conveyed back and forth between them.
Unfortunately, much like that notorious iguana who thought it could blend in with watermelons, my curiosity was not unnoticed. Oh, I got barred from Tahiti, but not before...things happened. There was a succession of events, a blur of accusations and sunburns; it ended with hibiscus blooms on the beach floor as my electric blue Hawaiian shirt fluttered down, landing atop, dramatically.
My body began a process fascinating both from a biological and a "Dear lord, why is this happening to me?" perspective. I quickly learned that even my most intimate anatomy was recuperating from the surprise and left by disguising itself as sparkly, sentient bio-structures. While I was left standing in a pile of what seemed to be irradiated, malleable skin-analogue and my newly decoupled internal structures oozed into a churning sea-shell resonant chamber.
Yes, I know - strange things were afoot in Tahiti. However, the cosmos has a bone to pick with the lonely spy who thought he could outwit the universe. Following a sequence of events more startlingly weird than a game of Calvinball, I woke up at a public pool park in Schenectady, New York. Would you believe it if I told you that at that very moment, hurricane-level winds started picking up, flinging surfboards and picnic baskets willy-nilly?
Resorting to my ingrained spy protocol, I began herding panicked sunbathers to safety, advising them to take cover under anything flat - inflatable mattresses, pizza cardboard boxes, even undercoat-gorged individuals. For a brief, quixotic moment, the images of safety drills finally paid off.
But alas, the marauding winds had another plan for our hero. A sudden microburst wrenched me from the ground, and I, once the bastion of calm in a storm, now became a part of it. Launched into the gale with arms flailing and cheeks aflutter, I had a bird's eye view of chaos jarred by gusts.
It was then I noticed the sunbathers roared not in terror, but thunderous applause. Was it the stellar acrobatics of my untimely ascent or the momentary distraction from the wind-whipped fear they found exhilarating, I wouldn't know. Floating above at the mercy of the winds, tossing a "Sorry!" written on an empty pizza box as I soared away, I can't say their judgment wasn't warranted.
As I write this, redeployed in the Chihuahuan desert, I still wonder if my iris dance was ever interpreted. But, then I resume my mission - fighting the irrevocable absurdity of our universe, one incognito sneeze at a time while dodging Mother Nature's unceremonious hurricanes.