For My 56th Birthday, My Stepdaughter Gave Me A Pair Of Earbuds. I Was Genuinely Happy—Until I Showed Them At Work. One Coworker Leaned In For A Closer Look, And His Expression Changed. “Don’t Use These,” He Whispered. “You Need To Report This Today.” I Didn’t Make A Scene. I Took Them Off, Filed A Report, And Let The Paper Trail Do Its Job. Three Days Later…

Snow rattled across the pavement. Harris explained it carefully like he was talking to someone his own age. The earbuds weren’t illegal by themselves.

The problem was how they’d been altered and paired. They could activate without me touching them. Stream audio.

Ping location. “Think of it like this,” he said. “Someone wanted a window into your routines.”

My routines.

I pictured myself in the car talking out loud about numbers I’d never written down, about how much the house was worth now, about the insurance policy I’d updated after my last physical, about how sometimes when I stood up too fast the room tilted. “Why?” I asked. There was a pause on the line.

“That’s the part we can’t answer yet.”

After work, I drove home slow, passing the same strip malls I’d passed a thousand times. Menard’s. Dunkin.

A place selling mattresses with banners promising no credit, no problem. I wondered how many people walked into traps smiling. Elaine was in the kitchen when I got home sorting mail.

She looked tired. I almost told her everything. The words were right there.

Instead, I asked casually, “Did Megan call today?”

Continue reading…