things we have known

A dossier is compiled. Sealed with ribbon and wax. The pages have been stamped by the appropriate agents and agencies. Artifacts are tagged and photographed before being sent away for analysis. Mymanian prefers still mineral water to filtered water. The origin of this preference is unknown. The lab is working to remove the bronzing from his baby shoes to collect a sample.

There is a photo of Mymanian, in his youth, performing a handstand. There is a calling card with the name Louisa and a phone number. The nation, then the world was scoured to discover a corresponding exchange attached, even tangentially, to a Louisa to no avail. It is assumed that Mymanian was wrong numbered, and that Louisa is likely an alias. A minority on the team has suggested that there could be a secondary layer of information, perhaps Louisa is a codename, the number not for a telephone, or for a telephone but encoded or the number to an offshore bank account, or the proper sequence to disable a destructive device. The minority lobbied to further analyze what they termed the 'louisa matrix.'

Reports from agents of the comfort corps litter the dossier. The abstracts of the encounters are illuminated with looping vines, flowers and hearts. He's a charming man. That is what we can gather from the accounts. He is a charming and attractive man. A prodigious lover possessed of a singular ability to identify areas of need, and deploy fulfillment. Nothing more than personally useful information can be drawn from these reports. He's not a talker. The comfort corps are redoubling their efforts and the reports are multiplying.

A majority of the team sees significant value in studying the reports of the comfort corps. A suggestion that the reports be taken home for study is made and rejected for security reasons. A motion that the reports be allowed out of the viewing room for perusal in the lavatory is put forward and approved. Edifying illustrations and diagrams would be helpful. The request is forwarded to the comfort corps.

Mymanian's whereabouts are tracked on a map with little pins with red plastic heads. When they stopped manufacturing the red pins, we started using yellow. Little red and yellow pins litter the eastern seaboard, the midwest, the mountain areas and Tijuana, Mexico. If you look at the points of known residence and visitation and you relax your eyes, the points simulate a portrait of an old world monarch, but there is no consensus concerning which one. Digital analysis of the map points suggests Queen Victoria, in her younger days, or Louis XIV or XII. Sanguine-toned images that morph through several ruling houses of old Europe. On a sheet of paper in the dossier, there is a series of questions written in my hand, 'Why is M. creating a pointillist portrait of old world monarchs through his whereabouts? Is this intentional? Is this a threat or a message? Should we have never thrown off the protective mantle of a constitutional monarchy? A call to commonwealth?'

Whether Mymanian is a threat or asset is still under investigation. Several of the intelligence bureaus have approached him. He has accepted their money. Mymanian has approached the craps tables at most of the establishments in Atlantic City. They have taken his money. He has taken their money. There is a give and a take relationship. Our sources report that for the year, Mymanian is up, above the house, but not by so much that he is not welcomed back. The house knows the game of numbers. A faction of the team is waiting for Mymanian to be upside-down with the casinos before trying to bring him in.

The President summons Mymanian. "Where's MyManiac? Get him up here, game's on." Mymanian is hoisted from his beach chair and brought to the residence in sandals and shorts. During football season the President summons the spy to his residence to explain the game to the foreigner. The President explains the QB option. Mymanian sips still mineral water, too polite to correct the President when he stumbles upon facts. "Maniac, there's good eggs and bad eggs and you're a good egg," the President says.

The cluster of Mymanian's whereabouts surrounding the capitol, when observed unfocused, seem to form a brooch for securing an ermine cape. This, I think, points toward French aristocracy and eliminates any of the Windsors unless this is a coronation portrait. An attempt to divine the source of Mymanian's inspiration was attempted. He was administered a Rorschach. His responses suggested a familiarity with the test, or perhaps contempt. He was confused by the portraits of the House of Windsor and reproductions of Jacques Louis David canvases that made it into the stack of plates.

I want to show him the map. We worked so hard on it, and lost irreplaceable personnel compiling the data. I want him to unfocus his eyes and tell me who it is.