Tracking

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Flash Fiction  |  House: Booksie Classic
Are you watching me??

Submitted: October 06, 2016

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Submitted: October 06, 2016

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Tracking

 

I know what you’ve done. I don’t know how you managed it but I just have to be right. Somehow you have managed to get hold of a tracker, an implant, and then you have fitted it to me. There is simply no other explanation.

 

Every time I go out of that door, you know. If you are home you shout for me instantly – there is something that needs attending to straight away. It is too important. It cannot wait. The strange thing is that all these instant urgent tasks turn out to be so trivial once I am back inside. Half the time you just decide to get on and carry them out yourself.

 

I suppose when you are inside the house you could just be hearing the door opening. When we are the only ones here it must be pretty obvious to you who it is that is going out. But it is possible that it is someone coming in. Have you ever considered that? Probably not!

 

The reason I am so suspicious is that when you are not here you still seem to know when I go through that door. Within two minutes of my being outside you are either on the phone or messaging me. What is so urgent? Do you have to keep finding me inane little tasks just to get me back inside the doors? You have your freedom all right. You just come and go as you please. And do I ever call you back! No, I do not.

 

But the implantation of a tracking device! It seems so unbelievable. I mean, where would you get one for a start. The amount of time you spend on ebay you probably know where to get hold of absolutely anything – and at a bargain price too. There haven’t been any packages in the post that I have seen recently but if you are here you always intercept it on its arrival. You could have had parcels and parcels that I would not know about whereas any post to me you want to know who it is from, what it is about. There never used to be such double standards.

 

So presuming you bought one how did you go about implanting it? And where the hell is it? I can’t feel any lumps in the back of my neck but it could be too low for my arms to reach. There is no visible mark on either of my arms, my wrists, my hands....anywhere that I can see. I think about when we had the dog micro-chipped. It was implanted with a syringe. I can’t believe you would do that though. You have always been terrified of needles.

 

I get this strange picture inside my head of me going to the self-scanner in the supermarket. The one I use to check the prices when you think they might be too good to be true. I am contorting myself under that scanner just trying to find a beep!

A ridiculous idea I know but it does make me smile.

 

And why do you want to keep me here anyway. It’s not as if you can’t do all the things you get me to do yourself. Is it just that you don’t want me to have any freedom or are you protecting me from something? Or maybe you are hiding something, so badly that the instant I made it unaccompanied to the road I would discover your little secret?

 

Perhaps I’m just being silly. Indulging in a bit of paranoia. But then if you are tracking me you must be paranoid too. I don’t know. It’s not really something I can just ask you straight out – well, not expecting a truthful answer anyway.

 

Now I’m just going to start up my laptop. I’ll have a quick look – just to see where you have parked the car. You’d never suspect me of bugging that now, would you.


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