for my friend Tiffany,
who fears nothing more than
being watched while she sleeps

It must be morning. The sun hasn’t risen yet. Still dark. Two days now, no sleep. It is staring at me. I don’t know how, but I can tell. I didn’t believe it at the first — the research they showed me. When asleep, 98% of people subconsciously respond when they are being watched. Stats don’t lie.

I roll over and, sure enough, two over-sized plastic eyes stare at me from my bedside table. I yawn and then stretch my legs. The two eyes dart to my feet. Motion sensors, the researcher told me when I picked it up. I got a kick of out it at first. I would set it on the floor and bounce a ball back and forth past it. Click click, click click, as the plastic eyeballs jolt back and forth. Back and forth like a little, robotic tennis fan.

I did not realize the implications until the first morning when it proceeded to scrutinize my every move. Now, I lie awake each morning trying to avoid its stare, its judgement. I keep thinking that if I lie still enough, it might get distracted or lose interest. It never has. After all, it was designed to stare me awake and out of bed. I bet the engineer thinks himself clever.

I toss aside the covers and reach for the clock. It watches as I turn off the “alarm”, if you can call it that. Its eyes snap center and lids slowly close over them. Now it is his turn to sleep. I realize I have been holding my breath and I quickly let it out.

Eight days now since my wife brought it home. She meant well. I met her at a support group for heavy sleepers. She passed out cards. Senior Quality Assurance Specialist. I went in to test products once, then twice, then we were having coffee together. Some people take their work home with them. I am her work. They list me as “test subject 24,” but really I’m number one.

After four days, Sheila couldn’t fall asleep with it in the room anymore. I suggested that we take it back, but she thinks if we quit the trial it would reflect poorly on her at work. She left instead. I wonder if she’s having an affair.

Griffin, my German shepherd, sleeps in the hallway now, leaving me alone with it. To be honest, the quiet house has been a nice change. Rodger, who lives upstairs, was surprised to see me yesterday. He thought we were on vacation. Rodger used to complain to the landlord about my ridiculously loud alarms. In fact, all our neighbors did, so I had to show each of them my doctor’s note. See? I’m not lazy, I have a certified sleep disorder. They stopped complaining.

I look over at the clock. Its eyes are closed. Even through the plastic lids, I know they are still staring at me. I slip out of bed and hear a muffled click as his veiled gaze follows me into the bathroom.

Lately, I’ve been getting an eerie, sinking feeling throughout the morning. There probably won’t be a check box for that on the research survey. Maybe there will be a spot where I can write it in. Maybe I feel like this because Sheila isn’t around.

Before this, we had spent every night in this apartment together. Would she lie to me about staying with Isabel? She would, I imagine, if she’s having an affair. Hm… I shouldn’t write that on the survey. I don’t want to start rumors in her
office. Assuming they are rumors.

After breakfast I return to make the bed. I pause midway, feeling an indescribable unease. Griffin is growling softly from the doorway. Sure enough, the clock is staring at me again, occasionally glancing over at Griffin whenever he moves. I must have hit the snooze by mistake. Why do they put the buttons so close together? That’s definitely going into my feedback.

He watches me cautiously, as I am determined to turn him off for good this time. He looks back and forth between my hand and my face as I stumble for the right switch. I snicker with evil satisfaction when I finally flip it. His eyes close and I begin to feel guilty for my cruelty. Then I get angry that an alarm clock has made me feel guilty. I don’t even feel guilty for Sheila staying with her friend. Sure, my sleep disorder has caused its share of friction in every relationship I’ve ever had, but she’s the one who brought this thing into our home. The way I see it, this is her fault.

Maybe I shouldn’t wait out the testing period — just end it now. I could bring it in personally. They might appreciate my constructive criticism. If I show enough interest in helping them improve their product, maybe they will even let me meet the engineer that designed it, so that I may promptly strangle him to death. Or maybe I could have him placed in a tiny room with four or five of those things to see how long it takes to drive him mad. I would deem it another research study.

I wonder if I am going mad. Could I be that crazy guy on the morning train that everyone watches out of the corner of their eye? Now that I think of it, I have caught people looking at me all week. Maybe I’ll take a taxi this morning.

What if the engineer is a woman? I don’t know if I could strangle a woman. I should bring the clock with me when I do it. I could set it down and make it watch me strangle its maker before I destroy it too. I smile at the thought of it.

When did I get to be so cruel? Could its evil be seeping into me while I sleep?

I am driving her away. I am becoming a bitter, cruel person and I am driving her away. I should bring the thing back. I impulsively reach for the plug. I hear the click of its eyes and I stop. I wonder if it is capable of electrocuting me. If it did, I would lie here for almost a week until Sheila came home to find that clock staring at my cold corpse with a smile on its face. Oh, thank God it can’t smile. At least not until next year when they make the new and improved model.

I have to stop it, starting with this one. I should leave for work, then, when it doesn’t suspect anything, flip the breaker to the whole apartment. Is that far enough away? Perhaps I should ask Rodger to do it. If he got zapped in the process, it would be a nice bonus.

I get ready for work and leave like normal. I am unable to find Rodger, so I will have to do it myself. I flip all the switches to my apartment. I take a few breaths, but don’t feel any different. Is
there a master switch for the whole building? I might as well flip that too. Finally, I decide to be a man and just go back to the apartment; Sheila likes it when I assert myself.

I hear Griffin growling when I
step into the apartment. Not a good sign. The microwave is off. The overhead light isn’t working either. I peer into the dark bedroom and two eyes snap in my direction. A paralyzing chill runs up and down my spine. How can this be? The power is off for sure.

I hear the microwave beep in the other room. How did the power turn back… did it just blink? Griffin barks and I find myself bolting across the room. I tear the clock from the wall and violently dismantle it across the floor in a fury of assertiveness.

After I calm down, I call work and let them know I will be late. My boss has to say it’s okay because I’ve shown her my doctor’s note. I sit on the floor with Griffin as we stare at the mound of twisted plastic and metal shards. “Just nuts and bolts” I say to no one in particular. I did hear a muffled scream when I tore off its head, but I think that was me.

I brought the remains to Sheila’s office. I met the engineer. It was a man, but I didn’t feel like strangling him anymore. I tried to explain what happened, but he looked at me like I was crazy. He sifted through the broken pieces and pointed out the battery he designed to kick in if the power ever goes out. I apologized and told him that was an excellent feature. I did, however, forget to tell him that his creation was altogether
evil and he should be strangled for the abomination he created. Maybe someone else will tell him.

I’m going to stop by Sheila’s desk on the way out and ask her to come back home. I hope I didn’t just jeopardize her job. Maybe I just destroyed the only prototype. If that was the case, she would probably be fired, then leave me. What if that engineer tells her I went crazy? I bet she’s sleeping with the engineer. I should have strangled him when I had the chance.

I should go home and sleep.