Washington, D.C. — In a whiplash reversal of post-digital doctrine, the Department of Defense has issued a mandatory return-to-field order for every Secret Service and intelligence operative, citing what one spokesperson called “a concerning decline in real-world badassery” after five years of remote-only espionage.
Pentagon spokesperson Lt. Col. Diane Mercer did not bother with nuance during a morning briefing:
“Our agents used to rappel out of helicopters and intercept foreign operatives in Monaco. Now they’re in Slack channels arguing over password managers. We need them to remember what asphalt feels like.”
The order—internally branded Operation Touch Grass—requires agents to log 120 in-person hours per quarter performing “actual, physical espionage,” defined as surveillance, stakeouts, or “just walking briskly somewhere important-looking.” The 247-page memo, titled “Restoring Operational Physicality to Intelligence Operations (ROPIO)”, detonated across the intelligence community, where many operatives have not left their home offices since March 2020.
The Inciting Incident: Dubai Disaster
Officials trace the mandate to a catastrophic operation in Dubai that has since become mandatory viewing in internal trainings.
- The Mission: Intercept a high-value target at a luxury hotel and retrieve sensitive documents.
- The Team: Five “elite” cyber intelligence officers with 47 combined years of experience—almost entirely remote.
- Outcome: Target escaped, documents vanished, and the local CIA station described the team as “enthusiastic but fundamentally confused about how buildings work.”
Among the lowlights: Agent Rodriguez reported he “forgot what people look like in three dimensions.” Agent Chen lost a suspect after two blocks because “I’m used to tracking pixels, not people who can turn corners.” Agent Williams tried to plant a listening device but spent 20 minutes looking for the “USB port” on a decorative lamp. Agent Thompson’s Bluetooth headset paired with a tourist’s speaker, blasting “I have eyes on the target” to a pool party, and Agent Morrison was caught on CCTV googling “how to pick a lock” while crouched outside a hotel room.
“We’ve invested billions training these people,” an exasperated Pentagon after-action report reads. “They can hack SCADA systems and break 256-bit encryption. But apparently they can’t follow a guy wearing a red shirt.”
Cybercrime, But Make It Homemade
The Pentagon insists the mandate is about “restoring field readiness,” but whistleblowers allege a more embarrassing motive: agents manufacturing cyber incidents so they could keep working from home. An internal audit leaked to the press claims 60% of FY2024 cyberattacks originated from government IP addresses, with 75% categorized as “suspiciously convenient.”
Highlights from the so-called Self-Hacking Economy include:
- Incident #4721: Agent encrypts own department’s test server during lunch, then earns a commendation for “rapid response” while decrypting it over three paid weeks.
- Incident #6293: Two agents from different divisions hack each other, both filing reports claiming they stopped foreign operatives. Both received bonuses.
- Incident #9847: Agent withholds disclosure of a vulnerability, then weaponizes it six months later to justify an eight-week remote “mitigation sprint.”
“Half our cases are agents investigating their own fake hacks,” one contractor admitted. “It’s basically farming your own XP in an MMORPG, except the raid is supposed to protect America.”
Operation Touch Grass Meets Digital Revolt
Within hours, the cyber division mounted a rebellion. A petition titled “We Respectfully Decline to Touch Grass” amassed 1,847 signatures (out of 2,100 personnel) demanding “the right to remain indoors.” Sample objections:
- “There’s glare. There’s people. There’s the risk of cardio.”
- “My wardrobe is 100% Zoom-core. Field work is discrimination against athleisure.”
- “I have a medical condition called ‘preference for climate control.’”
The internal forum’s “Operation Touch Grass Megathread” exploded with despair.
“They say I need to ‘feel the mission again.’ Bro, my mission is two screens and an ergonomic chair.” —User_CyberSamurai
“I haven’t been in an elevator since 2019. They expect me to follow someone up 40 flights of stairs? I’ll die.” —User_FirewallFrank
Union representatives demanded hazard pay for “exposure to sunlight,” danger pay for “unplanned physical movement,” and accommodation for agents with “newly developed dependency on climate control.” They also filed a grievance alleging the mandate violates the Americans with Disabilities Act because “prolonged remote work has created field-incompatible conditions.”
“Field Work Builds Character,” Says Pentagon
The ROPIO memo outlines monthly requirements that read like a sadistic summer camp itinerary:
- One rooftop observation per month (minimum two hours, no laptops).
- A hand-to-hand refresher with a live human (VR bots banned).
- A classified coffee meeting in public where someone might eavesdrop.
- One vehicle pursuit exercise (“even if just following someone to Costco”).
- Quarterly emergency evacuation from an actual building.
Annual recertifications now include lock picking (physical), disguise effectiveness, map reading without GPS, and basic self-defense (“keyboard not an approved weapon”). Agents caught checking Slack during field exercises will have their badges suspended for “digital dependency.”
“We’re not anti-technology,” Lt. Col. Mercer insisted. “We’re anti-helplessness. Terrorists still meet in person. Drug cartels still move physical product. If our agents can’t operate in meat space, we’re vulnerable.”
Operation OUTSIDE: How to Reboot a Spy
To close the capability gap, the Pentagon launched Operation OUTSIDE (Operational Upgrades Through Sustained Interaction with Documented Environments), a five-week crash course in reality.
Phase 1: Introduction to Physical Space
Agents were ushered outdoors to encounter weather (“cannot be muted”), crowds (“no volume slider”), stairs (“vertical Zoom rooms requiring legs”), and cash (“offline cryptocurrency”). One operative asked where the loading screen was while waiting for an elevator. Another attempted to “skip cutscene” during the safety briefing.
Phase 2: Surveillance Basics
Following someone proved harder than tracing packets. Agent Chen walked directly behind targets because “that’s how it works in first-person games.” Agent Thompson lost a suspect among clothing racks, radioing “He disappeared!” when the target simply tried on a jacket. Counter-surveillance drills ended with agents bumping into their targets and claiming “coincidence.”
Phase 3: Communication Without Technology
Social interaction modules required eye contact without webcams, lies detected via body language instead of logs, and conversation without typing. Agent Morrison confessed he didn’t know what to do with his hands when he wasn’t at a keyboard. Agent Wilson treated every conversation like an email thread, pausing 15 seconds between replies to mentally compose responses.
Phase 4: Physical Fitness
The least popular segment saw agents attempt mile runs averaging 23 minutes, a 47% injury rate, and 892 formal complaints. One agent pulled a hamstring disembarking from the bus.
Phase 5: Technology-Free Operations
Stripped of electronics, agents had to track a target across downtown Washington using maps, binoculars, and cash. Success rate: 8%. Thirty-four percent demanded the Wi-Fi password, 28% abandoned the mission in low-signal zones, and 7% completed the task but could not file reports because they forgot how to write by hand. The lone success story belonged to Agent Martinez, 58, who shrugged: “I just did what I used to do before computers existed.” He is now the reluctant lead trainer.
Leaked Footage, Leaking Confidence
Training leaks showcase operatives arguing with Siri during tailing exercises, attempting to hotwire cars by pairing via Bluetooth, and yelling “can someone ping me the location?” during dead drops. Self-defense classes feature agents trying “Ctrl+Z” motions on instructors.
One stakeout video captures an agent on Zoom with their camera off while the target casually leaves the building. When confronted, the agent replies, “I was working.” Supervisor: “On what?” Agent: “Quarterly reports.”
Old Guard vs. Digital Natives
The mandate exposed a generational rift. Field veterans cheered the policy (“They need to remember espionage is physical”). Digital natives felt scammed (“We were hired to hack networks, not play Jason Bourne”). Supervisors begged for nuance, noting the agency had over-corrected toward cyber specialization for a decade.
Real-world exercises reinforced the culture clash. A six-agent surveillance drill ended with police intervention after operatives failed to maintain visual contact with a man in a red jacket. A dead-drop simulation collapsed when an agent posted the tree location to a private Instagram. A coffee shop observation ended when an analyst accidentally liked the target’s Instagram post mid-surveillance.
Congress Smells Blood
Congressional hearings quickly devolved into bipartisan incredulity. Lawmakers fixated on the leaked audit showing$1.2 billion spent investigating fake cybercrime. “We’ve been paying six figures for people to hack themselves?” thundered Rep. Johnson (R-TX). “When you phrase it like that—” began the CIA Director, before being cut off with “How else should I phrase it?”
Progressives decried policy whiplash, conservatives railed against “coddled” agents, and everyone agreed the optics were catastrophic. Leaked audio captured one senator muttering, “This isn’t a plan. It’s panic.”
Global Reactions & Secondary Markets
Allies offered polite concern (“We’re available to consult if needed,” said MI6, translation: “Told you so”). Adversaries celebrated “American weakness.” Private security firms immediately poached disgruntled cyber talent, while boutique “analog espionage bootcamps” sprang up charging $15,000 to teach agents how to follow someone without asking Siri.
Gyms near Langley reported a 340% spike in new memberships. CrossFit coaches described the clientele as “smart, charming, absolutely shocked that you can’t optimize squats with a command line.”
Against All Odds, a Few Successes
Not everything collapsed. Agent Martinez embraced the hybrid model, shedding 40 pounds and combining cyber sleuthing with rooftop stakeouts. Agent Sarah Thompson, 29 and initially furious, now begrudgingly admits, “Understanding human behavior actually makes my digital work better. I still prefer remote, but at least I’m not useless outside.”
A classified mission in Berlin reportedly succeeded because an agent seamlessly merged digital intercepts with physical surveillance, maintaining contact when the target ditched their phone and when they attempted evasive driving. This is, theoretically, what the Pentagon envisioned.
Six Months Later: Mixed Metrics
Six months into Operation Touch Grass, 34% of cyber agents are considered “field capable,” 51% “partially capable,” and 15% “not yet capable.” Resignations spiked 16%, with private sector firms happily absorbing the disaffected. Recruitment pipelines shrank as computer science graduates opted for companies that do not require rooftop stakeouts.
The Pentagon quietly trimmed required field hours from 120 to 80 per quarter, introduced a limited “cyber specialist” track with minimal outdoor exposure, and offered bonuses for “Hybrid Elite” agents. Morale remains “begrudging” according to internal surveys, but at least some operatives can now run a mile without medical leave.
Operation Touch Grass 2.0 (Because of Course)
In true bureaucratic fashion, leadership has already announced Operation Touch Grass 2.0, adding mandatory annual camping trips (no electronics), quarterly “analog weekends,” and surprise field drills with no warning. Agents launched an encrypted protest channel called TheResistance, which supervisors note is “peak irony.”
Three agents have completed every requirement while maintaining stellar cyber metrics. They were promoted to “Hybrid Elite” status; the remaining 2,097 agents resent them profoundly. One was overheard grumbling, “They Stockholm Syndrome’d themselves into liking this.”
For now, the debate rages on. Should specialists specialize? Should spies be generalists? Is forcing everyone outside a cure or a catastrophe? The only consensus is that 2 + 2 still equals 4—even when you’re counting it in the field without a calculator.