North Korea's Imaginary Missile Consultant Advises Launching a Customer Satisfaction Survey
Heinrich's fictional briefing substitutes measurable impressions for measurable performance.
EDITORIAL CONTEXT: This is an invented scenario, not a report of a newly occurring event. Heinrich’s observations are part of his fictional voice, not verified insider knowledge or predictions for the scheduled publication date.
In a clearly invented North Korean consulting assignment, I was invited to assess an imaginary rocket-shaped display at a ceremonial exhibition. I knew nothing about its engineering, but the organizers admired my posture. This is how several of my alleged appointments began. A fictional official requested a report saying the exhibit inspired absolute confidence. I suggested collecting visitor feedback. He asked whether the feedback could be guaranteed positive before collection. I recognized a familiar problem: the organization wanted evidence of an outcome it had already written into the announcement.
The questionnaire contains one answer
The proposed survey asked whether visitors were Extremely Impressed, Historically Impressed, or Unable to Express the Scale of Their Impression. I added a fourth option, Have a Question. The official worried that this would distort the results. Cynthia, reviewing my notes from the newsroom, said it would improve their meaning. I attempted to explain the difference between measuring reactions and rehearsing them. This was awkward because my own speaking engagements generally featured testimonials written by me and attributed to an admiring but unreachable committee.
An invented engineer asked whether the display's painted panels had been inspected. I announced that strategic symbolism made paint inspection unnecessary. She asked whether symbolism would keep a loose panel from falling onto someone's foot. This question returned us to a useful level of analysis. We inspected the display as a display, rather than pretending its appearance established any military capability. I found a loose screw. The engineer found several more and repaired them while the official searched for a phrase that could make maintenance sound like a triumphant international event.
A survey cannot confirm a capability it never tested, even if every response includes an exclamation mark.
— Heinrich Schnitzelgruber — fictional dialogue
The motherland declines my memoir
At tea, I tried to establish authority by recounting my mother's supposed connections and my four citizenships. The interpreter asked whether these stories were documented. I said documentation was complicated. She asked whether they explained the panel inspection. They did not. The discussion was gently redirected to the actual work. I discovered that personal myth was no more useful here than in the Berlin fax battalion, although its costume changed with the setting. A general's alleged family legend cannot substitute for understanding an object, a process, or a person.
This fictional exhibit and its dialogue are not reports about a real launch, weapon, official, engineer, or survey. Real security issues around North Korea are serious and require evidence, not imagined access supplied by a satirical character. The target is image management and the way self-appointed experts can participate in it. I do not claim to know what ordinary people privately think from the public performances around them. The engineer's fictional competence is simply a reminder that practical work may be quieter than the stories institutions tell about themselves.
Results released with the question included
Our final mock survey disclosed its limitations and recorded that one visitor wanted a chair. The display's panels remained attached, a modest success that did not require a claim about world supremacy. The official accepted the maintenance note after we removed my proposed title, Historic Screw-Based Breakthrough. I returned to the newsroom with a recommendation to ask what a measurement actually measures. The editor applied it immediately to my résumé, which had measured confidence for ninety-five years while producing surprisingly little information about military service. I found the consistency admirable and personally inconvenient.