An Introduction of Sorts

It has been my recent pleasure to make the introduction of Dr. Brookson. For a pacifist, he seems to be an intelligent sort, although to be honest I’m not always fully clear on what the man is trying to say. Perhaps it’s the result of a life spent undercover, and often under fire, that has led me to appreciate brevity and clarity of communication, which, no doubt, you’ve noticed escapes my friend.

Or maybe he’s just your typical egghead type more comfortable with his books and goats than with an agent of this country who has spent his life ensuring that these United States remain free and secure for all citizens. Whatever the case, I’m grateful to him for including me in this project. As for those goats, well more on them in a minute.

Me? Well all you really need to know is that I am man familiar with danger. I’ve looked death in the eye, humped it dry, and not even bothered to kiss it goodnight! I guess you could say it was good for me. Oh, but see I’ve forgotten myself, and my esteemed company here at SAGE. Doc was worried that I’d slip into some of the more quaint colloquialisms that I’ve picked up in my exploits and I’ve promised to behave, so no more of that!

As I was saying, I’m a man of action. Many of my exploits you’ve read about in your morning paper while still in your jammies at home with a nice cup of jo. Try to comprehend that while you were sipping some overly roasted Sumatra I was, at the very same moment, high tailing it out of some backwater hell hole, made just a bit more hellish for my having been there. I don’t begrudge you your comfort; I chose my fate when I was recruited into the agency. Still, awareness, like freedom, comes at a cost. As I will remind you many times over the coming months, I am truth and my price is your innocence. Others have had to pay; now it is your turn. Consider yourself warned.

How did I come to join this project? Well it’s those damned goats that did it. During my last mission I had a need for a steady supply of the aforementioned animals. I can’t say much, so I’ll just say that in some cultures a suicide goat mission can be a very effective form of warfare. I was put in charge of the project once the concept team completed the initial specs. In the beginning we actually started with a design for exploding sheep, but you just couldn’t imagine the havoc created by all that static electricity coming out of their wool! I lost some damn fine men on that project because the boys in the concept lab really didn’t think things through at first!

So we made a field decision to switch to goats, and the truth is we were having a little trouble at the agency perfecting things with them too, logistics are always the hard part - where do you put the explosives, how in the world do you get the goat to hold still for THAT, etc.-, when the Doc was referred to me. Of course we kept him in the dark with a story about experiments on increasing milk production for the starving children, and things went pretty well for a while. That is until the Doc noticed a marked decrease in his flock and a certain correlation of that decline with the sound of explosions, coming from his back 40.

I tried to talk around the story for a while and my team feverishly kept the experiments going trying to find a methodology that was secure and repeatable. Finally, the Doc’s persistence got the best of us and I had to make a call on whether to bring the Doc in on the program, or to “ensure the integrity of the project”, to use some agency vernacular. Well, the Doc seemed like a good guy, and the truth is that his place was quite a bit more comfy than life in the foothills of some locale amidst a herd of explosive laden goats ready to be deployed. So we gave him most of the details.

As you can imagine, the Doc had a little trouble with the concept, but by then most of our work was done. We therefore agreed to desist and spent the remainder of our development time drinking the Doc’s tequila (Mexican Barking Juice he got to calling it), and improvising fireworks displays for the local toothless set with our left over plastique, some surplus aluminum fence posts and the ignition system of a ’76 lime green Nova that the Doc was driving at the time. It was at one of these all nighters that the Doc suggested I join in this effort.

I’m currently in seclusion writing my memoirs at a location I chose not to disclose. The agency is unaware of my compositional activities, so I’m keeping a low profile since this country does seem to have a continuing need for my talents. I never seem to run into a recession in my line of work, and the pay is quite good. Best of all, the agency has a terrific benefit plan; the real key to it is staying alive.

I am looking forward to our exchange of ideas, and I will ensure that my satellite uplink remains active regardless of where I may be off to.

Until we chat again remember, if you hear of any goat bomber missions, that was me.