Living the Nightmare

I put on my coat and... what is that? That is a camera, isn't it? I'm no expert, but that certainly looks like a lens. Damn, I can't reach it. I'd need to get the ladder from... hell, I'll check it later when I come home. I don't have the time now, and if it's gone by then I will at least know where I'm at. Maybe.

*****

It is gone. I'm sure there was a camera right there. Well, I think I am. Anyway, there is definitely no camera right now. Not a hole, not a mounting bracket, nothing. What does that mean? Did someone check the recording and see me gawking at it? Probably. If there was a camera at all. My memory seems a bit fuzzy these days.

I saw the black suit guy again. One of them, anyway. Today he laughed and pointed at me. Even when he was laughing, his face looked like a mask. Did he laugh because he knew that I'd found the camera and he had already removed it? Or had Tina placed and removed the damn thing? Was he laughing because he's fucking my wife? I can hardly ask her, can I? Well, I could ask her, but what would I do if she said yes? What would I do if she said no, for that matter?

What can I do? Police? Tell them what? There are men in black suits following me around? Even in the unlikely case they don't lock me in the nut house, standing at the roadside in a suit is hardly illegal, is it? Maybe I should tell them that my wife or someone else might have placed a camera in my house, then removed it? No. I have to think. It seems so damn hard these days. And what does it matter, anyway?

*****

The camera I ordered has finally arrived. When Tina got home, she put the unmarked box on the table without saying a word about it. She just smirked and continued with her book. Does she know what's in the box? Does it matter?

*****

Wednesday. Tina isn't home, she's at her friend's place, whatever her name is. At least, I think she is. The bed is made. This time, I'm certain that I made it this morning. The recording shows an empty bedroom with an unmade bed. What? The camera is motion activated; how can it show me the messed-up bed, but not the motion that caused it? And how can it mock me by just going on and on and on, when there's no motion in the room?

Wait. There he is. Fuck. The black suit guy. Walking calmly through my bedroom. Opening my drawers, moving my socks. Bastard. Nothing I can do about it; the time stamp says this has happened five hours ago. Still, this enrages me more than the possibility that he had sex with Tina. I see him exchanging a black and a grey pair of socks. Then he calmly makes the bed, turns around and looks directly into the camera. His mask-like face remains neutral for a few seconds, then we winks and the recording ends. Damn, he knew about my camera. This whole thing was a show for my benefit. I thought I'd hidden it so well. How did he get in here anyway? Tina must have let him in. And who else would he have messed the bed up with? Damn.

I check the drawer and sure enough, the socks are exchanged. What do I do now?

"Alex, could you come down here?" Alex, not honey. Just like in my dream.

If Tina is involved, she knows that I've found the recording. What do I do? Nothing. I need to think about it, but it is so hard these days. For the time being, I'd better act like nothing has happened.

"Coming."

*****

Driving up and down the road I take to work looking for guys in black suits is not the best idea. I'm doing it anyway. Damn, I rammed right into that curb. I hope the tire is all right, I hit that curb pretty hard. I see a tire shop down the street; I'd better have it checked.

The tire shop is weird. Yes, there are tools lying around, and a hoist, and tires, but the old brick building is cold and dank. Eerie. Like some old building that has been redecorated to look like a tire shop. I don't even remember a tire shop being here, but I don't come this way very often.

"Sure, I'll look at it. Wait here." The guy saunters off to look at my tire. He's wearing a dirty overall like you'd expect, but he has exactly the same dead diabolical grin as the suit guy. So what do I do, ask him if he spends his days wearing a suit, following me around and fucking my wife? No. I pretend to study the greasy Pirelli calendars on the wall. At least that's something a normal tire shop would have.

My ears are getting hot. I can feel him staring at me, like he's about a millimeter behind me. He's probably thinking "I'm fucking your wife and you're going crazy, my friend." He's right.

"That tire's okay. No problem."

He is grinning that damn plastic grin again. I know this is the suit guy. I just want to get out of here.

"What do I owe you?"

"Nothing. I have everything I need."

Meaning my wife, probably. And my life, and my sanity. What else could he want from me? Get away from here, Alex, before you lose your mind. Well, what's left of it anyway.

*****

Empty. The camera's memory card is completely empty. I guess I forgot to copy it yesterday. But what do I need the recordings for, anyway? The cheating. Yes, that's what I have no proof for. Could I even stand that truth? I feel like walking a mental tightrope anyway. I have no doubt that getting the confirmation of that betrayal would completely destroy me. Our love might not be burning that hotly, but I always felt like we were like symbionts. Losing her would probably destroy me as much as removing my liver. I think I'll just go to bed and think about it tomorrow. Maybe I'll have a clearer head then.

*****

I'm at work again. How did I get here? I don't remember. That's not my usual pencil. This is the pencil I lost two years ago. Never found it, looked for it for almost two weeks. I loved that pencil. Now it's in my hand as if nothing has happened. As if it's the most normal thing in the world. Don't think about it. Act normally. They are watching me. They are following me and messing with my life to drive me mad.

So, where are the new files? Oh, that's right, Ralph doesn't come any more. I get them from the intranet. How long has that been going on? I seem to have forgotten. I'll just cling to my routine. I'll not give them the satisfaction of seeing me going mad. I can keep going. Apart from that thing with Tina. That would kill me on the spot.

*****

Tina is on her way to work. I have about thirty minutes to check the recordings. They obviously know there's a camera in the bed-room, so if I find nothing, what would if mean? What do I even want to find? A recording, that's what I want to find. One proving that Tina has remained faithful. Proving that she still loves me. That she won't leave me for a faceless man in a black suit.

Tentatively, I stick the memory card into the reader. One file only. A completely empty card would have been okay. That would mean it hadn't worked or someone had deleted everything.

Ten files would be okay. That would be the snippets a working motion detector should produce.

One file? That was probably left there for me to find. Some kind of "best of" compilation, especially for me. Do I really want to see this? What good can come from this? This could destroy me.

Of course, I open it anyway.

She is already on the bed. Naked. Oh, god, how long has it been since I've seen her like this? Available, obviously excited. To see her like this, yet unavailable for me is pure torture.

He steps into the picture. He is still wearing the black suit. She moves towards him and starts caressing his trousers, while he remains absurdly impassive. His expression is unchanging, like a mask. Oh, no. She grabs into his trousers and gets his penis out. It's already fully hard. How did that thing even fit in there?

She lies back and awaits him, smiling. Without further ado, he just plunges his thing into her pussy and stops. They both slowly turn their heads towards the camera, Tina still smiling, him with that dead, mask-like grin. They both give me a thumbs up.

Everything goes black.

*****

Voices. I can't see anything, but I hear them talking. They sound far away, but understandable. What they say doesn't make any sense, though. I hear the words, but they have no meaning.

"So, what do you think? Is he ever going to wake up?"

"No way to tell. There definitely is some brain activity. Not much, though." Neither voice sounds familiar; both are male.

"You think he's dreaming?" That is a female voice. She sounds more compassionate than the others, maybe even a bit concerned. She sounds vaguely familiar. I can't place it. It probably doesn't matter.

"I really don't know." A pause. "Yes, I believe he probably is. He seems to be having a good time."

"Who knows?" the other male says indifferently.

A pause.

"I hope he is. I'm a bit sorry now, I didn't expect the effect to be that strong. Confuse him, yes. Turn him into a complete vegetable, no."

"Make up your mind, please. You wanted him out of the way."

"Yes, yes." She sounds a bit annoyed now. "And the divorce is well on the way with him being in here. It's just... I don't know."

"You feel guilty?"

"I guess. He was boring and clingy, but this... I don't know. This seems a bit much."

"You'll get over it."

"I guess..."

"Just remember to keep taking the antidote."

*****

"She's gone?"

"Yeah."

"We'll reserve the bed next door for her. I've increased her dosage. We need to test the absolute limits. His brain seems to be slowly recovering. We need to get beyond that point with her."

"Never been that easy to get guinea pigs for a chemical weapons test. Never had someone offering her own husband before."

"Yeah, two for the price of one. It was sheer luck that I met her. She still thinks we research mind-bending drugs for medical purposes and that I've done her a favor by giving her some to confuse her hubby."

"Will we make as much of an effort for her? I mean, follow her around and stuff?"

"No, the customer won't do that as well when the substance is used. We will just rely on chemistry this time."

"She's ever repaid you for that favor?"

"A gentleman wouldn't tell."

Their laughing slowly recedes as they seem to walk away.