He’s a superspy on a covert mission: to make sure the doors of very important people in a nameless city are double-locked by 8:15 PM. He doesn’t know why though. That information is strictly top-secret and is only conveyed on a need-to-know basis. He doesn’t need to know. Yet.

It’s nine minutes past eight. He’s inside his company-issued car, munching on ridged sour cream and onion potato chips and sipping sugarless Coke. His phone lets out a tri-tone. Zoe, the person on the other end of the line, says she and the rest of the team have gathered intel that a suite in a nearby hotel has its balcony door un-double-locked. It’s crunch time.

He drives for two minutes. There it is. The Crown Pearl Mansion. He tosses the key to the valet and sets out to quickly survey the building. He stands beside the hotel and looks up. According to Zoe, the target, i.e., the un-double-locked hotel balcony door, is at Room 207. At the 20th floor. Huhm. How to get there? Take the elevator? The stairs? Nah. That’s what non-superspies do. And— It’s now 8:13:32 on his wristwatch. Time is of the essence.

With just a little over a minute to go, he takes out a toothpick from one of his coat’s inside pockets (it is imperative that a superspy carry a pack of toothpicks on his or her person at all times) and use it to press a tiny, recessed button on his wristwatch-cum-Swiss army knife. Thud. The gravitational field immediately around him is tilted a full 90 degrees so that the exterior walls of the building are now his ground, and he’s standing on it. He runs—no, zooms—along the side of the hotel, the 20th floor now only a couple of meters ahead of him.

He’s now standing next to his quarry, the balcony, to him looking like the bow of a capsized boat. He steps inside then presses the button again. Thud. Gravity back to normal. The balcony is now just a balcony that happens to have an un-double-locked door. The door! He rushes towards it, grabs the knob, rotates it (it is indeed un-double-locked), inserts a curious little key in the keyhole, turns the key twice to activate the bolt that double-locks the door. On his wristwatch, the colons are blinking self-importantly. It’s 8:14:52. Thud.

He is now back in his car, removing lint off the shoulders of his coat while the radio auto-presets the city’s broadcast frequencies. He reaches for his phone and connects to Z. He likes what he hears from the first preset channel and sticks with it. He asks Z who was in Room 207, the room with the un-double-locked door. Z answers. He sighs.

His name is Jasper. Just Jasper.