The Central Dolltelligence Agency
A ticking noise erupts from the TV overlaid with a news broadcaster's voice:
"The CDA or Central Dolltelligence Agency (that's doll intelligence), is a highly secretive organization of dolls the world over working together toward what they say is the safety of dollkind.
But is that really true? We've managed to score a rare and unique look into this clandestine institution. Together, we'll unlock the secrets of the CDA. This doll is Marigold Caster — and this — is 60 Seconds."
tick tick tick tick tick
The image cuts to a doll sitting at a computer, headphones covering her ears. Her face is completely rigid and Still as she listens intently to the recording, her quill scribbling erratically on a piece of parchment. Bolting from her chair, she runs toward a corner office.
Handing the ream of parchment to the doll to whom the office belongs, the two share a moment of silence while the latter doll reads.
"We've finally got the doll-of-a-witch," it proclaims with great significance. "Rose's secret Sunday tea blend is secret no more."
Elsewhere a doll types diligently at the machine in front of her. A satellite image can be seen on the screen zooming in further and further until it's so magnified that she could make out how many poppy seeds are on the bagel you're eating. She pans the image, searching.
At last, her target in her sights, she frantically grabs at a mic in front of her. All at once speakers everywhere erupt in an inter-office comm as she cries out, "We've got a live one! 54.5960°N, 5.9538°W! It's got to be the fluffiest squirrel doll has ever seen!"
A doll runs through the office, panicked, shouting, "Code Lavender! Code Lavender!"
Dolls everywhere abandon their desks to run after the crying doll. It's clearly an all hands on deck situation. Even the doll in the corner office joins in, walking briskly where others stampede.
They eventually all congregate in what must be the Situation Room. It's jam-packed from corner to corner. Everydoll wears an anxious, distraught expression, eagerly awaiting the briefing. At the head of the conference table, the corner office doll calls for attention.
"You've all heard the news. It's true. We have a genuine Code Lavender. This one just confirmed it itself." One doll breaks into tears. The corner office doll ignores them and continues.
"Marjoram's witch is on the way home and he's baked out of his core on Five Hour Stillness. There's zero chance he'll be able to complete the list of chores assigned to him before the witch's return."
Several dolls faint. Others begin running around, hands in the air, their frenzied shouts of awawawa filling the room. The corner office doll declares, "Dispatch Doll Force One."
The anchor's image returns as she reports, "This doll believes she speaks for everydoll when she says we're in good hands. This doll is Marigold Caster — and this — was 60 Seconds."
The show ends with the signature tick tick tick of the clockwork caster's chronometer.
This story continues here.