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I am an agent employed by a covert US organization so secret I'm not even sure what it's called.
My assignment involves monitoring a North Korean national who is traveling around Asia trying to locate and infiltrate an R&D facility which is designing an advanced virtual reality pod – sort of a cross between a hibernation chamber and a holodeck. My mission is to assist him in order to find out what North Korea intends to use this technology for.
We learn that the R&D facility is inside the Cyberjaya tech park in Malaysia outside of Kuala Lumpur. We get inside by posing as tech journalists and joining a media tour. At an opportune time we break away from the tour to find the VR pod. Which we do.
The North Korean climbs inside, inserts a thumb drive preloaded with malware to hack into the system, and starts fiddling with the controls. I can see what he’s doing via an external monitor display next to the pod.
Once I see what he's up to, I make my exit while he’s still in the pod and book a GrabTaxi to the airport. While I wait, I call the contact number I was given to make my report and arrange my flight out.
To my surprise, Hillary Clinton answers.
So there is a Deep State, I think to myself. Cool.
“What’s the scoop?” she asks.
“He plans to use the pods to create a chain of virtual strip clubs in ASEAN to raise money for Kim Jong-un’s regime,” I report.
“Why not just open real strip clubs?” she asks.
“Real strip clubs get raided,” I explain. “Virtual strip clubs means virtual dancers who are also customizable for a premium fee – and you don’t have to pay them.”
“Okay, but why would you need a club full of pods? If it’s virtual, guys could just use the service from home.”
“If they’re rich,” I say. “The pods are still in the prototype stage and the first commercial ones won’t be cheap. Neither will the broadband connection you’d need for an optimal customer experience. Besides, novelty sells.”
“Good work,” says Hillary. “Get out of there. Go to KLIA Terminal 2 – we’ll arrange your flight out.”
My taxi arrives and takes me to the airport, Terminal 2. In fact my flight is waiting at Terminal 1 – the idea is that I will take the shuttle train from Terminal 2 to Terminal 1, but the train will make an unscheduled stop en route. I’ll get off the train then and take a maintenance tunnel that leads to my gate, enabling me to bypass airport security and the immigration checkpoint.
However, the train starts heading away from Terminal 1. I try to remember if it’s a circular route – if so, maybe it’s just going the long way round. But we seem to be moving further away from the airport, and I’m starting to wonder if the North Koreans have rumbled me. And if so, when – because that could mean the virtual strip club was a disinformation play.
And then I woke up.
Secret agent man,
This is dF
My assignment involves monitoring a North Korean national who is traveling around Asia trying to locate and infiltrate an R&D facility which is designing an advanced virtual reality pod – sort of a cross between a hibernation chamber and a holodeck. My mission is to assist him in order to find out what North Korea intends to use this technology for.
We learn that the R&D facility is inside the Cyberjaya tech park in Malaysia outside of Kuala Lumpur. We get inside by posing as tech journalists and joining a media tour. At an opportune time we break away from the tour to find the VR pod. Which we do.
The North Korean climbs inside, inserts a thumb drive preloaded with malware to hack into the system, and starts fiddling with the controls. I can see what he’s doing via an external monitor display next to the pod.
Once I see what he's up to, I make my exit while he’s still in the pod and book a GrabTaxi to the airport. While I wait, I call the contact number I was given to make my report and arrange my flight out.
To my surprise, Hillary Clinton answers.
So there is a Deep State, I think to myself. Cool.
“What’s the scoop?” she asks.
“He plans to use the pods to create a chain of virtual strip clubs in ASEAN to raise money for Kim Jong-un’s regime,” I report.
“Why not just open real strip clubs?” she asks.
“Real strip clubs get raided,” I explain. “Virtual strip clubs means virtual dancers who are also customizable for a premium fee – and you don’t have to pay them.”
“Okay, but why would you need a club full of pods? If it’s virtual, guys could just use the service from home.”
“If they’re rich,” I say. “The pods are still in the prototype stage and the first commercial ones won’t be cheap. Neither will the broadband connection you’d need for an optimal customer experience. Besides, novelty sells.”
“Good work,” says Hillary. “Get out of there. Go to KLIA Terminal 2 – we’ll arrange your flight out.”
My taxi arrives and takes me to the airport, Terminal 2. In fact my flight is waiting at Terminal 1 – the idea is that I will take the shuttle train from Terminal 2 to Terminal 1, but the train will make an unscheduled stop en route. I’ll get off the train then and take a maintenance tunnel that leads to my gate, enabling me to bypass airport security and the immigration checkpoint.
However, the train starts heading away from Terminal 1. I try to remember if it’s a circular route – if so, maybe it’s just going the long way round. But we seem to be moving further away from the airport, and I’m starting to wonder if the North Koreans have rumbled me. And if so, when – because that could mean the virtual strip club was a disinformation play.
And then I woke up.
Secret agent man,
This is dF
