Summer DiVino, fresh from her FBI retraining seminar, described as a “Clarification on FISA Title 3 Monitoring” is all smiles. To hear Summer tell it, the Seminar was little more than a “Summer Retreat”. She was “invited” to attend the Seminar after her botched attempts to establish a romantic relationship with Yasser Affifi came to the attention of her FBI superiors.
Summer responded in her usual assertive style “who do you think you are to tell me who and who I can't electronically track? This is my suspect! My house! Besides we were told that we could 'bend or suspend' in our pursuit of legitimate targets, Director Mueller, or have you forgotten that?!"
The incident received a great deal of attention and it was eventually decided that several agents, including Summer, would be brought in for additional training to clear up any misconceptions about the so called Title 3 Monitoring. Summer assures me that the Seminar was more about confirming the Bureau's continuing commitment to their long held stereotypes regarding foreign nationals.
“Never shake hands with Asians” she unabashedly and suddenly tells me. I'm nonplussed. She goes on to tell me, “We basically Tasered each other, blew spitballs and photocopied our asses the whole time”
We're back in SLC now where Summer has been assigned to head the Salt Lake Field Office'sSecure Compartmented Information Facility.
Summer is in the driver's seat of her Hummer eating a chili dog over a couple of files marked “CONFIDENTIAL” and “CLASSIFIED”. I look down to her lap and notice the chili from her snack has dripped over one of the files.
I point this out to her and she grimaces, then wordlessly exits the Hummer, and drops the file into a nearby garbage. She mutters as she re-enters the Hummer and I can barely make out her saying “Well, that file is corrupted completely."
“Did you just throw a classified file into a public trash receptacle?” I ask.
“That's not cool, Gerald! Keep your voice down! For God's sake that was a totally classified file I just threw away and you want to announce it to the entire world? What are you, some kind of idiot?”, she screams.
I admit I'm not much into cloak and dagger, but around Summer DiVino I'm quickly becoming familiar with the ins and outs of American intelligence and law enforcement methods.
Summer DiVino's training Seminar and her subsequent reassignment to the Salt Lake Field Office are not the focus of this story however. It turns out that, while at their retreat in Quantico, Summer and several of her fellow agents learned of an impending extinction level event. To hear Summer tell it, the FBI (aka the FIB) Lab in Quantico was able to determine that on or about December 21, 2012 of this year a huge methane bubble containing a small amount of hydrogen sulfide gasses and mercaptans was set to erupt from the Alaskan Tundra which would eventually envelope the world and destroy its oxygen based atmosphere. Summer further explained that a mixture of polydimethylsiloxane and hydrated silica gel could be used to create simethicone, an anti-foaming agent that decreases the surface tension of gas bubbles, which would theoretically cause them to combine into larger bubbles in the atmosphere, which will, in turn, help them pass more easily into outer space.
Summer points an erudite, condescending and didactic finger towards the Hummer's ceiling as she explains that while the Mayans knew that the end of world would occur at the end of this year, they failed to chronicle that humanity's final extinction would occur as the result of reckless and rude flatulence.
She goes on to assure me “...and don't think you didn't play a significant role in finding both the problem and it's ultimate solution, Gerald. The first time I smelled one of your farts I thought I would die and that got me to thinking about what would happen in the event of a global methane issue and that's when I approached the FBI's Quantico lab to discuss the possibility of such a catastrophe.”
It is indeed an honor to consider the key role I played in preventing earth's imminent destruction! Each of us, in our own small way.