license plate operatives

Jacob Carson was not a spy. He was a middle-aged accountant with a Ford Focus and a mortgage. But everything changed the day he noticed his new license plate: KGB-4729.

"KGB," he whispered, running his fingers over the embossed letters. "Knowledge Gathering Bureau, 47 countries, 29 agencies." 

It was so obvious. How had he never seen it before?

The next morning, Jacob wore sunglasses to work. During his lunch break, he drove to the local QuickMart and walked the aisles with purpose, mentally cataloging the arrangement of cereal boxes. When another car with the plate RTF-6132 parked beside him, Jacob gave a subtle nod to the driver.

"Room Temperature Fuel, 61 locations, 32 operatives," he murmured. The driver, a soccer mom in yoga pants, returned the nod before heading into the store.

---

Within weeks, Jacob had identified dozens of operatives throughout the city. DHT-8851: "Domestic Handler Team, 88 sectors, 51 agents." MSG-7701: "Messaging Service Group, 77 directives, 01 clearance." The network was everywhere, if you knew how to look.

At the Safeway, Jacob spotted a man checking expiration dates on milk cartons. His plate: MLK-3365.

"Monitoring Local Kommunications, 33 subjects, 65 protocols," Jacob whispered, approaching the man. "I'm KGB-4729."

The man startled. "I'm... Dave."

"A cover identity. Very wise."

Dave shuffled back. "Look, I'm just checking dates. My wife hates when I bring home expired milk."

Jacob tapped his nose knowingly. "Message received. The milk is indeed past its prime. The operation remains cold."

---

Jacob's wife, Ellen, became concerned when he started taking three-hour "errands" and returning with detailed notes about traffic patterns and convenience store layouts.

"You're spending a lot of time driving around," she said one evening.

"All part of the mission," Jacob replied, not looking up from his notebook where he was translating "WTF-3901" to "Weapons Training Facility, 39 operatives, 01 status."

"What mission, Jacob? You're an accountant."

"That's what they want you to think."

---

At the office Christmas party, Jacob cornered his boss by the punch bowl.

"I know why you assigned me the Henderson account," Jacob whispered. "Your plate is BVD-2538."

His boss blinked. "What?"

"Bureau of Vital Documentation, 25 years, 38 clearance. The Henderson files contain the codes."

"Jacob, I drive a Tesla. I don't have a plate with letters."

"Exactly what a high-level operative would say."

---

The impromptu meetings of license plate operatives grew. They gathered in parking lots and drive-thrus, exchanging meaningless comments about weather that were obviously coded messages about operations.

Darlene from HR (plate: PMS-8207 – "Propaganda Management Services, 82 protocols, 07 level") brought snacks to their Saturday rendezvous at the mall parking lot.

"I've made progress infiltrating the target," announced Jacob.

"Which target?" asked a confused new recruit (plate: LOL-6969, clearly "Liaison Officer Logistics, 69 sectors, 69 operations").

"The target," Jacob repeated, gesturing vaguely toward the mall. "I've mapped the entire food court. The Cinnabon is clearly a front."

"For what?" asked the recruit.

"If you have to ask, your clearance isn't high enough."

---

Things came to a head when Jacob's wife found his "intelligence" notebooks. Page after page of license plate translations, crude maps of strip malls, and paranoid theories about the strategic significance of fast-food restaurant locations.

She scheduled an intervention with a therapist, who gently suggested Jacob might be experiencing delusions.

"That's what they want you to think," Jacob said calmly. "Your plate is PHD-5150. Psychological Handling Division, 51 techniques, 50 agents."

The therapist made notes. "Jacob, I take the bus."

---

Gradually, with medication and therapy, Jacob began to see his license plate for what it was: random letters and numbers assigned by the DMV.

But occasionally, when stopped at traffic lights, he'd spot another operative's vehicle and give a subtle nod.

Just in case.

Because what if the medication was the real conspiracy?

After all, the pharmacist's car had the plate RX-7890: "Resistance Xrays, 78 subjects, 90 trackers."

You could never be too careful.