I am perhaps taking a foolish risk by revealing this information, but I work undercover for the C.I.A. It seems unnecessary to keep this to myself anymore, as my cover will probably be blown soon anyway by the current administration.
Yes, I was recruited to work for the Cosmic Intelligence Agency sometime between my last life and this one; I cannot recall the loka where this happened, but I surely must have been a little under the influence of some divine elixir when I signed on the dotted line, as I now have reason to seriously question the purpose of being here at all. There is precious little intelligence to make note of. The idea, you see, was that I would write up whatever I heard anybody say anything, or saw anybody do anything, that reflected some degree of intelligence here in this realm, which has the code name "The Pit." By this point I have lost the address where I was to send my reports, which I have never had the heart to fabricate anyway. Now it is true that no one has ever contacted me about these missing reports...yet! But it is always possible that I shall be called to account. And then what?
I realize that most people will consign this memo to the category of insane ravings. But if you should happen to know what I am talking about, if it resonates, as they say, then perhaps you too are an agent. Maybe you were recruited, as was I, and have forgotten all about it until now. If you suspect this to be the case, let me know. Maybe together we can figure out what it is we are supposed to do next, in the obvious dearth of data that presents itself. Perhaps we are living in the eye of the hurricane, where everything is happening except where we are. There may yet be hope that intelligent life exists somewhere on this planet outside the circumscribed area of our perception. The prospects for this, however, do not seem encouraging, I must say.