Dwight knew there was something suspicious about those two new people on the film crew.  Later, he would remind Angela of this whenever she doubted him.  "I was right about THEM, now, wasn't I, Monkey?"   And Angela would always sigh.   Because, really, she knew he was right.  He always was about these things.


It was an unseasonably cold spring day when they came in to the office.   He was a thin guy ("inadequate upper body musculature," Dwight had decided) with sad eyes and a vaguely ethnic nose.  She was red-headed and unsmiling, almost as tiny as Angela.   Frank Muller.   Deanna Sullivan.  Filmmakers.   But, Dwight was certain, something else as well.


The Envelope was placed on his desk in mid-April.  It was a plain bond number 10, unmarked.   Dwight noticed that it was not a Dunder Mifflin product, which was the first thing that made him suspicious.   Then, he opened it and read a single typewritten page -- typewritten, not from a word processor and laser printer.   Again, suspicious. 

Leave the office today, move your car to the coffeeshop across the street.   Return to the office -- MAKE SURE YOU ARE NOT FOLLOWED.  Be in the conference room at 6:30pm.   This is important.   Destroy this letter.  

---A friend.

ps.   You can bring Angela.


Dwight's eyes darted around the room.   The contraband envelope and typewritten text meant that it was not another one of Jim's stupid games.   This was for real.   His eyes rested on Angela, who was holding a similar sheet of paper in her hands.  Her lips pursed and she looked up, squinting at Dwight across the office.  She rose and strolled casually to the door, turning at the front desk to raise here eyebrows towards the stairwell.   Dwight gave a slight nod, counted to fifty, and followed. 

At 6:27, Dwight crept up the stairs in total silence.   Although he had not been asked to do so, he had changed clothes and was wearing his black Arashi from Karate class.   He kept it in the trunk of the Trans Am.  You really could never be too prepared.  

At 6:29, Angela followed.   She had covered her platinum hair with a sensible scarf.   Her oversized sunglasses made it difficult to navigate in the dim light, but she felt anonymity was important.  For safety's sake, if all this nonsense proved real, and to save face if it proved to be the likely hoax.  Dwight was such a noble man, suited for another time and place, where bravery and a quest for adventure was treasured and rewarded.   But, seriously.   It was 2007 in Scranton, Pennsylvania.   And, under those conditions, he really needed a sensible woman to keep him grounded in reality.

They sat silently in the Conference Room, their fingers lightly touching as their arms rested on adjacent armrests.  Dwight proudly glanced sideways at Angela, who was still wearing her scarf and sunglasses despite the fact that they had turned on none of the Conference Room lights. 

"We were chosen, Monkey.   Our competence and suitability is readily apparent to those who know about these things."

"We'll see."  Angela answered without turning to face him.  "I'm not sure if I approve of all this anonymous letter nonsense.   It isn't proper, Dwight."

Just then the lights came on at full brightness.  Dwight was overcome with a stinging pain in his eyes and a burgeoning pride in Angela, who had apparently thought of this contingency and prepared accordingly with her sensible eyewear.

"Hello."   Two people had entered the room, but in the brightness, Dwight couldn't see their faces. 

"You are on the film crew."  Angela's voice was guarded and suspicious.  "What is this about?   Why are you here?   Is this a trick?"

As Dwight's eyes grew accustomed to the light, he saw that their companions were the two new members of the documentary film crew.  The tall one.  The little female.   They rarely spoke to anyone, let alone each other.  However, sharp observational skills and personal experience gave him a certainty that there was more to tell about their relationship. 

"Thank you for coming, " the small redheaded woman spoke first.   "I understand that this may seem strange."   The two men shook their heads dismissively, but Angela met her eyes with a grateful smile.

"We are formerly agents of the Federal Bureau of Investigation."  The man was speaking now.   "We have experienced things beyond the normal.  Beyond rational human understanding.   There are also people who wish to kill us.  We are currently known as Frank Muller and Deanna Sullivan.   These are not our real names."

"Go on."  Dwight licked his lips and slid to the edge of his chair. 

"You are aware, Mr. Schrute, that there are people and phenomena which defy conventional explanation?" 

"Or," Deanna Sullivan interrupted "which could be explained through scientific method if truthful information were actually available."

"Or," added Angela, "which we are not supposed to understand or explain because we are supposed to be strong in our faith."

Dwight stared directly into Frank Muller's eyes.  "There is so much that THEY don't want us to know."   Muller smiled.

"Exactly."   He said.  "A few weeks ago, we received some information that led us to believe that one of your coworkers is not who you have been led to believe."

"Bernard."  Dwight whispered the name venomously.

"Andy?" the woman's left eyebrow arched dramatically.  "No.   He's exactly what you think he is."

"Contemptible?" asked Angela.

"Well....let's just say that he really is that big of an idiot."   Angela gave a satisfied nod.   She liked this woman.  Her petite frame was appropriately ladylike, and yet she appeared strong enough to keep her man in check during his more ridiculous moments.  Admirable traits.

"Please watch this footage carefully.   Pay close attention to our subject.  You will note a strange change in personality that we cannot readily explain.   We fear.....well.   First, watch the footage and see for yourselves." 

Muller walked over to the television and inserted a DVD into the player.   The screen crackled to life and soon Dwight and Angela were shocked as it filled with the face of one of their coworkers.

Dwight and Angela had never seen any of the documentary footage before this, and it was strange seeing their coworker on screen, staring right at them and talking.   It was an interview, what the director insisted upon calling a "talking head," shot in an unfamiliar office.

"Jim's nice enough. I don't... I don't know how well he's fitting in here. He's always looking at the camera like this." It was Karen.  Imitating Jim.  Quite well, actually.  She continued, "What is that?"

Deanna Sullivan paused the video.  "You recognize her, of course."

"Of course," agreed Dwight.  "It's Karen."

"And, she's right about those annoying faces of Jim's," Angela added.   "I just don't see why this is suspicious."

"This is Karen last summer.  Please watch her behavior in these film clips from the months following." 

Most of the clips seemed to show similar scenes.   Karen working, Karen talking to Jim, Karen trying to work but being distracted by Jim's foolishness.....  Angela shook her head.  Clearly Karen had been a better, more devoted worker before Jim's bad influence.  

"Her clothes..."  Angela's head tilted to one side...."They look different....not as whorish in the fit as what she wears now."

"Yes," Muller replied.  "We have noticed that her clothing does not fit as well as it did in Stamford.  Please, watch the rest before you decide."

The footage showed scene after scene of a confident, moderately aggressive Karen in Stamford.  Soon enough, the footage revealed scenes in the Scranton office.  Angela stiffened at the scenes of Karen's insubordination on the Party Planning Committee, and Dwight gave her hand a little squeeze of comfort.   Then, a scene of Karen and Jim in the kitchen showed some obvious tension. 

"Do you want to talk about it?"  Jim was clearly trying to get Karen to look at him.

"Such a GIRL," Dwight muttered.  On the television, Karen was still not looking at Jim.

"No." she replied simply, turned her back on him and left the room.

After a few more brief scenes of Karen's workplace activities, they saw Jim, sitting alone.  Dwight and Angela saw the pinatas and noted that this must have been the day of Dwight's glorious return, a phoenix rising from the ashes of Andy's treachery. 

"Do you still have feelings for her?"  Karen asked.   She did seem quite direct in all these scenes, that was certain.

"Yes."  Jim answered, in almost a whisper.   Karen rose and stalked out of the room and then the office, an unmistakable look of hurt and anger on her face.   Muller paused the video.

"This is the moment where it all turns.   From what you have seen, it would appear that Karen's departure from this party should have also been her departure from her relationship with Jim.  However.....well......I'll let you watch the rest of the footage, here.   Keep in mind that we have not been able to determine where Karen went when she left the office that day." 

The next scenes showed several comments from Karen and Jim about a weeklong "talking" session.   She hugged him awkwardly at his desk.  She loudly introduced herself to Todd Packer as "Jim's girlfriend," she cornered Pam in the kitchen and demanded to know if she was "still interested in Jim."  and it went on.  and on.

"This is......strange."   Angela spoke first.   "She almost seems like a different person."

"Exactly."  Muller nodded slowly.   "We aren't sure why it is, but the evidence seems clear:  The Karen Fillipelli you see today is not the Karen Fillipelli we met a few months ago.   Our mission is to find out why."

"Do you think..." Dwight looked around nervously, "She could be a Cylon spy?"

Angela let out an angry sound.   "DWIGHT.  Don't be foolish.   Cylons are make-believe." 

"Yes, Dwight, that is science fiction."  Dwight's face fell, but Muller continued.  "But we really need to be sure that she is not a shape-shifting alien assassin.   Because those are real.   And deadly." 

Sullivan cleared her throat.  "We have prepared a list of possibilities, along with some methods for ruling them out.   We cannot perform these tests ourselves without attracting suspicion.   But you two, as coworkers of the subject, have a certain access that we do not." 

Angela skimmed the list.   "Escapee from secret government clone farm?  Robot Replicant?  Amphibious Cannibalistic Monster?  Honestly....." she shifted abruptly and looked up in alarm.   "Demon possession?   Do you really think she could be.....a slave of Satan?"

"That can be your first task, Angela.   I know that you have the means to test that particular theory."   The women locked eyes, and Angela nodded slowly.  

"Yes.   I can test this easily enough tomorrow morning."

Dwight was growing impatient.   "What is my first task?"  

Muller leaned forward.  "This will prove more challenging, Dwight....now, here is what I want you to do....."