[ WP ] You become a mod for your favourite subreddit . You soon realise it 's much more then looking at comments and banning spammers . Much much more .

It began as a notification in my inbox. I clicked on the red envelope and read the message: 
 
 `` You are now a moderator of [ /r/lifeofnorman ] ( https: //www.reddit.com/r/lifeofnorman/ ).'' 
 
 Cool. I liked the stories there. I liked reading the mundane adventures of a mundane guy. OK. 
 
 The envelope turned red again. 
 
 `` Report to Office 1209, Ring E, The Pentagon, tomorrow at 9:00 AM for initial briefing. An advance has been deposited in your account.'' 
 
 This was less cool. Automatically, I logged into my bank account and saw it. $ 200,000 from something called `` REFR SUDS''. I briefly considered withdrawing the money and running away, but whoever could throw around two hundred grand clearly had the resources to find a fugitive. I was in deep now. 
 
 The next morning I dressed in my best ( and only ) suit: a blue blazer from K-mart. I arrived at the Pentagon at 8:30, expecting to be turned away. The gate guard caught my eye, then stiffened. He spoke into his radio, `` The package is here,'' then took me softly but firmly by the arm and said `` This way, sir.'' 
 
 We went into the building, past countless security checkpoints, until he arrived at a set of nondescript gray doors with `` 1209'' hastily stenciled on them. The guard knocked twice. The doors opened and I was guided into the almost pitch black room, lit only by a few computer monitors. After my eyes adjusted to the dark, I could see an old man in a trenchcoat, leaning against a computer bank, staring at me. 
 
 `` Name's Deckard,'' he growled. 
 
 `` Hey. I'm...'' 
 
 `` I know exactly who you are. I know your life story. That's why you were chosen.'' 
 
 `` I'm sorry, exactly what the hell is going on here?'' 
 
 Deckard pointed to a nearby monitor. `` See that man?'' 
 
 I followed his finger. I saw the back of a middle age white man, slightly balding, typing in an plain office cubicle. The only decoration in the cubicle, aside from the neatly ordered piles of reports, was a tiny framed picture of a cat. 
 
 `` Hey, is that...'' 
 
 `` Norman. That's the subject of that little subreddit you love so much. But he was n't always Norman. He was born Christian Reynaulds in 1971. He joined the CIA in 1989, quickly becoming our greatest secret agent. Travelling around the world, bedding beautiful women, killing evil men. He was the best. When he killed someone, he did n't hide the body. He left it out in the street, leaving subtle clues that made the police think it was a mugging, or a heart attack, or a brain aneurysm. The guy was a forensic genius.'' 
 
 My heart started to beat faster. Could this be true? 
 
 Deckard continued. `` But then he got married, had a kid. He wanted out. Fair enough. But the world's deadliest assassins are after him. Russia, North Korea, Canada; the shadiest countries in the world want him dead. So we gave him a new life in St. Paul, Minnesota as a claims adjustor. And that's where you come in.'' 
 
 Deckard pointed to another computer. It was displaying the /r/lifeofnorman front page. `` You choose the best scenarios from that website. Relay it to our technicians on the ground. They're the ones who protect Norman, who make his life seem boring. Codename `` Lisa'' is our lead agent on the ground. You make his life normal, the assassins wo n't find him. Be careful, kid. His life is in your hands.'' 
 
 Deckard gave me a pat on the back and strode out of the room, leaving me alone in the dark. I struggled to keep calm. The camera was still fixed on Norman: he was still typing. I pulled my phone out and turned it to `` encrypted'' mode. 
 
 `` This is Agent 54,'' I texted. `` I found him. He's in St. Paul. Works in insurance. Have all available assets move in at once.'' 
 
 I clicked send and put my phone away. Leaning back in my chair, I began to scroll through the subreddit. Life was finally going to get interesting for old Norman.
