the water was aquamarine, still like the surface of a mirror, no reflections as i walk past the beach. it's busy, wintertime sun, it could be summer anywhere else. i often wonder how i got here, it feels like i awoke from a fairytale slumber, an enchantment. suddenly i live here, i'm a local. how did that happen?
the streets hum with activity, suburban seaside life in australia. mothers, coffee, surfers, everyone succumbed to elemental forces, invisible hands guide them through natural order and here i am, undercover chaos agent. i blend in like chameleon skin, an aura of unknowability, an invisibility cloak, defecting light, you can't really see me, you can't catch my angles as they always change.
my mission parameters are unknown, information is found in coded anomalies. i ching yarrow sticks are replaced by random natural vistas, a flock of birds, count them, one, three, five and seven, odd. a set of waves. tarot cards plucked from some subconscious dawn. my runes are drawn with fire in my frontal lobe. i am a walking divinatory nexus. 
my mission flows like the rivers, it swirls in vortex and ebbs through time, it is an ever shifting flux machine.
i sit on a bench and try to recall the agency, who sent me here, why this place and what am i seeking. like all fishermen i cast a line, backwards through the time flow, a delicate piece of code upon a complex cable. splash, it hits some tension and begins to sink. 
if memory is trickery and illusion it is filled with forgeries and fakes but the waters i swim in are tranquil and clear. light penetrates the darkness, the source code seeking out the mission. 
time cascades, it sucks everything backwards to the prime position. 
all players are in place. the game is afoot.