The agent had stopped feeling guilty somewhere between the seventh and eight Fiverr. None of them had been a challenge — none of them had even known they were doing intelligence work — but left alone, one could get lucky and cause real damage. Not to national interests (all the gig workers in the country, tasked at the same time, wouldn't match what the government itself did on any random half-hour).
To her career as a full-time intelligence agent, on the other hand...
It was already difficult to evade the regular cost-cutting purges without fucking Fiverrs showing a shred of usefulness. Every agent knew this. In every agency, on every side - so they passed each other information about their own agency's Fiverrs and took care of everybody else's.
It was a crude arrangement, surely visible in the data in red crayon letters for any half-competent analyst. None of the few remaining ones felt inclined to point it out to the language models they reported to.