Paranoia

I walk home at a brisk pace as usual. I don’t want to spend too much time outdoors. That is dangerous. I turn the last corner onto Burberry Street, and I see it immediately — a “package” — on the top step leading up to my apartment, wrapped neatly in brown paper. Too neatly. My “neighbour,” Joan, is there, wearing a bathrobe, her hair in curlers. She is smoking. She tells me the “postman” left it earlier today. Yeah, right. She is trying to act “neighbourly,” but I see right through her ploys. I pick up the “package” and go in. I can feel her eyes on me. Act normal. Inside, everything looks the same — as far as I can tell, nothing has moved or been moved. I put the “package” down beside the “toaster” on the kitchen bench — the one that Joan gave me when she had “bought herself a new one.” She had carried it right into the apartment herself — just barged right on in — straight past me! She wants me to think she is “friendly.” You can’t get it out of the apartment now. They will know you know. Worse is when she brings “food.” She says I could use a “home-cooked meal.” Oh, please! And let her poison you! That’s the oldest trick in the book!

The apartment is small. One bedroom, which is only large enough for a single-sized bed. It also has a built-in “closet.” The living and dining rooms share the space when you first walk in from the street. It is exactly ten paces. Small is good. Easier to remember how you left things. I look around, satisfied. From where I left the “package” on the bench, I will be able to watch it from any position. This is good. I walk to the window next to the front door and peak out onto the street, being careful to remain hidden behind the curtain. From here, I can examine the outside safely. I wouldn’t dare spend too much time doing this while actually outside. That is a death wish. You mustn’t let them see you do it. I see the black “Ford” is still there, acting innocuous. This “car” hasn’t moved in over a week. No, no, no — that’s not right! This neighbourhood is not fancy enough for that. No one would just leave a car lying around unused. No siree! And so conspicuously! My eyes dart quickly around. From tree to building, from building to light-post. You must remember everything — every minute detail. It is the key to your survival. There it is. The “bird.” It seems so obvious now. Yes! A “bird” — it makes perfect sense! I don’t take my eyes off it as it flutters back and forth. It is a clue.

I am still watching the “bird” from the window when a “man” knocks on the door. I didn’t see him walk up the stairs. Where did he come from? I answer, pretending not to know that he had appeared out of nowhere. Pretend he is human. This is wise. He says he “lives across the street,” and he has some of my “mail” by “accident.” Really? On the same day that you get this mysterious “package”? I don’t say anything; I just reach out and touch his “face.” He recoils and pretends to be “uncomfortable.” He’s trying to act like I have done something “wrong,” but now we both know that he knows that I know that his “face” is a mask. It’s very high quality. It almost fooled me. They are getting better. I close the door without taking the “mail,” but he doesn’t give up the act. He pretends to be confused and stands there a moment, “waiting” for me to come back. He is a very good actor — one of the best yet. You may not have been fooled, but others are slower to catch on, and he will get them. It’s survival of the fittest.

Turning around, I let my gaze fall back on the “package.” I need to examine it properly, but I can’t decide if it is worth turning on the “lights.” In a fit of panic, I sit down on the sofa. I regret this immediately. How could you forget to check under the cushions! My mind is racing. Why did you carry it inside? How could you be so stupid! Joan had been watching — waiting for you. Yes. Yes. Of course! My “neighbour” just happens to be outside, “smoking a cigarette,” at the same time that I get home? She just happens to “see the postman”? How convenient! I laugh. I laugh so hard my stomach hurts. In this moment, I don’t even care that they can hear me. It’s truly ridiculous what they think people will believe! Give us some credit, please!

I approach the “package,” cautiously. Without knowing what’s inside, I must watch it continuously, but I also mustn’t let myself forget about the “toaster” and the “closet.” They want to distract you so you forget about those. I slowly detach the envelope from on top. The address has been handwritten. This is a very clever touch; they want it to seem personal. I run my fingers over the neat lettering. They know your full name and address. You must find out what else they know. I open it carefully. Inside is a “birthday card.” I am not sure what date it is, but I am pretty sure I would remember if it were my birthday. They are trying to confuse you. They want you to think you are crazy. I read the message. It says it is from my “mother.” They will stop at nothing.

It’s time. I pick up the “package.” It’s rather light. I undo the tape at the seam without tearing the paper. You will be able to use this to cover up the window in your bedroom. Keep them out. This is good. It helps to stay positive. Enclosed in the brown paper is a box. Why so many layers? The box matches the “birthday” theme and is covered in balloons. HA! I take a deep breath and remove the lid. Inside is a “teddy bear.” I freeze. It is identical to the one I had had as a small child. How long have they been watching you? I don’t dare touch it. Who knows what they did to it. Besides, if I leave it in the box, they won’t be able to watch me… only hear… Do not make a noise! You breathe too loudly! You must protect yourself! Tomorrow, you will buy a gun. Yes. Yes. Yes. A gun!

A loud, sudden knock at the door interrupts this thought, and I jump. My heart is racing. What do they want with you? A woman is calling my name. I look out through the window first. There is what appears to be a woman and two men. Large men. I open the door hesitantly. She is smiling. It is part of her trick. She asks if they can come in. If you say no, they will know. Do not let them know. I open the door just wide enough for them to step past me.

They come in and stand in the living room politely. They each do a good impersonation of a “guest.” The woman introduces herself. She says she is a “doctor.” I say nothing. The less you say, the better. Her eyes fall on the “package” and she smiles. Then, she has the audacity to ask if today is my birthday! Again, I say nothing. She is trying to deceive you. She knows exactly what it is. I catch one of the men eyeing the “toaster,” pretending to observe the general apartment. Of course they want to make sure that is there! I watch them all, carefully. I can tell the “doctor” is being deliberate with her words and actions, choosing each with the utmost care. At last, she gets to point that she had been dancing around. This will be good.

She tells me that some “friends” have had some “concerns” about my “health” and that there have been several reports of me “loitering” around the old underground parking lot. She is pretending to be casual about the matter. Honestly! This “woman” thinks that if she pries innocently enough that I might fall into her trap! She stares at me. She is trying to read me as if we were playing a hand of poker. We will see who bluffs better, lady! I find myself smirking. It is hard not to. We both know exactly why I go there — the radiation cannot penetrate the concrete. If you admit this to her, then she wins. Your only hope is that she cannot prove that you know.

I stall. I need time to consider my options, but there isn’t any time. There is no way I can fight all three. I can’t find an escape. There is no way out. I am struggling to breathe. The fear is taking over. The “doctor" tells me that I have to go with them for “observation.” I know this means that I will be disappeared. Yes, they will take you somewhere deserted and shoot you. They will bury you in an unmarked grave. This is how you will die.

I have no choice. It is over. Every part of my body feels stiff and heavy. They grab my arms and literally drag me along. Down the steps. Past the black “Ford.” I look up to see Joan and a few other “neighbours” come out of their houses. They all stand around and watch the “doctor” and the two men push me into the back of their vehicle. Joan doesn’t look surprised, naturally. You knew she had been involved!

It’s over.

Don’t even put up a fight. Just accept your fate.