The Sleeper, by John Garland

It was a very large home-made card. His address was correct, and neatly written, but the rest was clearly the work of a small child. On one side was what was meant to be a tree, drawn in felt-tipped marker, complete with oversized red apples. On the other, beside the address, the child had written, in large, clumsy letters, “Dear Uncle Mike This is my tree I hop you like it”; the message being accompanied by a smudge of the child’s hand.

Mike turned it over several times, puzzled. He was nobody’s uncle: indeed, as an only child himself, it was genealogically impossible. With a growing feeling of alarm, he gradually realised what it was all about.

They had told him, you’re going to be a sleeper. Don’t do anything at all to draw attention to yourself; especially, don’t attempt to contact any of us until the message comes. Then you must take the appropriate actions immediately. Then they had explained the system of codes, and made him learn them all by heart. He was told that under no circumstances should he write them down. So he had learnt them by heart, and hadn’t written them down, but oh dear! That was years ago! Right now he was pretty sure he could remember most of them if pushed, but ……..   Think, man, think! This was going to be very important!

First, the spelling mistake: the missing letter E. That meant he must contact Agent E, if he could only remember the right address. But supposing he’d moved in the intervening time? Well, that was beyond his, Mike’s, control: he could only do his best. Now the child's handprint: he was sure that indicated a degree of urgency ….. Or was that indicated by a footprint? Really he couldn’t remember! Next: the message to be passed on. That was conveyed by the picture on the front of the card. So a tree with apples meant … what? He couldn’t for the life of him recall! As for all the other coded symbols he'd been made to learn: stars, parachutes, mobile phones, whatever ….. What on earth did they mean? It wasn’t his fault; the system really was ludicrously complicated! He wasn’t cut out for this work!

The only one he was absolutely certain about was the picture of a clock, which meant “general alert”. Well, if that was the best he could do, he’d better do it, hadn’t he? He was sure he’d got a spare postcard of the Big Ben tower somewhere ….. Yes, here it was, that would have to do. Or did a picture of a building mean something else?  Why had he ever let himself in for this?

He addressed the card to Agent E, at what he sincerely hoped was the man’s address, and wrote as follows:

      “I’ve just received a beautiful picture of an apple tree from my little niece, complete with handprint. She’s a real star! No doubt she’ll be wanting me to get her a mobile phone for her birthday. Whatever next; parachuting lessons, perhaps?”

Praying that this covered all eventualities, and hoping that the word "niece" didn't have a coded significance of its own, Mike dropped the card into the letterbox round the corner and then staggered home, emotionally shattered.

A week later, his phone rang. It was Helen. After a few opening bits of general chat, Helen said, “Sarah told me they’d been doing postcards at her playgroup, and she’d sent one for you! She keeps asking, “When am I going to see Uncle Mike again?” She always calls you that nowadays; isn‘t that nice? But do you know, the silly little thing told me she’d forgotten to sign it! So if it did reach you, it was from her! I do think her teacher should have spotted it wasn’t signed, don’t you?”

Mike couldn’t remember the rest of the conversation: afterwards he suspected he’d cut Helen off  rather abruptly. But when he’d had a sit-down and a stiff drink, he reflected, well, at least war hasn’t broken out, and neither has anyone come to arrest me, so with a bit of luck no great harm’s been done. I’d better go back to being a sleeper, and just pray that this time no-one wakes me up!