The Name’s Bond (Pt. 1)

Sean Connery as James Bond, by David Hurn

(If you would prefer to listen to this essay, click here)

I could tell you why it’s important to pay attention. Or I could investigate my new block in Budapest as if I were a detective, and show you how many secrets I discover by paying attention. 

Since no one learns by being told why something is important, I go with the latter option.

You, dear reader, have an important role in this mission. You will play the part of my supervisor. I can see you now, sitting there in your study, puffing thoughtfully on a Turkish cigarette while you gaze over the maps sprawled across your rich mahogany desk.

You are "M."

I am Bond.

The goal of this assignment is to prove that attention is the difference between an interesting life and a boring one.

It’s quite the paradox: to live interestingly, you need to be interested.

You’ve put me on the job for two reasons:

1. We don’t have any intel on this block in Budapest. It’s a blind spot for our department, and in this business, we can't afford to have blind spots.

2. Without an assignment, I’m a hazard to myself and single local women. 

Your agent has already infiltrated the neighborhood; my boots (Adidas Sambas) are on the ground. I also received the briefing you sent. One quote in particular stuck out to me:

“The true mystery of the world is the visible, not the invisible.”

–Oscar Wilde

Marcel Proust wrote something similar about the true voyage of discovery not existing in exotic lands, but in possessing new eyes. 

Could it be a coincidence that two of history’s great minds are converging on the exact same point? Or is it that they both brushed up against a truth, and wanted the rest of us to see it too?

Your briefing detailed a rather peculiar rule for this assignment. 

As I understand it, you want me to learn everything about the block: the people, the buildings, the smells, the colors, the patterns, the history. However, you are only giving me 24 hours to complete the mission?

With all due respect, that is a tall order. 

No matter though. You know I am the man for the job. I understand you set this constraint because you wanted to prove that life is always interesting, even in the most ordinary of scenes, if only one has the will to search for it. 

One day should be plenty. In fact, I’ll raise the stakes! The job will be done on a weekday. There is simply too much excitement here on the weekends. Too much to take interest in. Finding the secrets hidden in a boring day will make our case stronger. Wednesday should do just fine. The plainest day of the week.

I will see the block from all angles, in all lights. My goal is not to judge, but to understand.

Who is awake at 4 in the morning? Who is coming back from work at 11 at night? What is that old man thinking about on that park bench? Who built these buildings? What type of birds live here? The museum of stamps on the corner, what’s the story? There’s a statue of a man in the park. The park shares his name. Why? What exactly did he do?  The flower shop run by the lady who wears a snug apron, why did she become a florist?

I want answers, damn it.

Do not count me amongst the flocks of woolless sheep who drift mindlessly about with muzzles in their black mirrors and ears plugged with any noise besides the noise of life.

I want to feel more awake than a child preparing for their first day of school. 

By the time my Omega Seamaster (or Casio plastic watch from Walmart) strikes 11:59 PM on Wednesday, expect to hear back from me with a letter describing everything there is to know about this little square on the grid of Budapest. 

Since you informed me of a spy hidden amongst the ranks of pigeons, I will send the letter via our most secure line: Rambles from a Rogue.

Please ensure you enter your coded identification (email) into the box at the bottom of this letter. 

That is all for now. You will hear from me shortly. 

Your Rogue in the field,

–00Z

P.S. Tell Miss Moneypenny I’m thinking of her.