You open the roomy refrigerator, hoping against hope that you will find the burrito of your dreams. To your disappointment, there is little of value there. The fridge is mostly filled with caffeinated booze, the beverage of choice for the alcoholic Mormons of the American intelligence community. Aside from the dozens of Four Loko tall boys, there are several packets of food for large indoor lizards, a juice labeled “Refreshing Fentanyl and Guava with Fluoride - Not Market Ready,” test tubes of young blood from all types, and an assortment of chilled military stimulants.