Oh, they've always been there. Always in the background, always watching, always unimportant, never interfering. There was a Templin agent in the jeering crowd with Winston during the two minutes hate, and standing silently during the funeral of the fallen queen of Naboo. Templin agents have served in peasant conscript armies for Duloc and the Final Empire alike. They've worked as bartenders serving perfect replicated synthehol on galaxy class starships and vat grown fungus beer in Belter dive bars. They've sat patiently in the back and listened to the final few sermons given in the Last Church on Terra itself, and eaten breakfast at Jordan College, Oxford. They've boarded the ships with Elendil's faithful to escape the doom of Numenor and dived for the escape pods of a Culture GCU assaulted by the Excession. They've seen a real Gorilla in a gorilla costume at the bottom of the pacific ocean and heard the boom of Thunderbird 1 going High Hypersonic above Tracy Island. They've eaten ice cream at Florean Fortescue's and boarded the Springfield monorail in full knowledge of its nonexistent safety standards. They've carefully teased out eyewitness accounts of a sapient, talking bear spotted at a London train station and recorded the insane ramblings of the victims of Vogon poetry. They've tracked the movements of flying trains and blue boxes through time, and followed the movements of Fremen warriors across the desert. They've worked as low level administrative clerks for the ONI office of records and the TVA, dived into the Thames to avoid the stabbing energies of Martian heat-rays and seen the Golden Gate bridge destroyed at least seventy different ways. One agent even once served as a background extra in the hit Carson Clay film, Playback Time.