You know who’s looking. Unnamed individuals, rented personas, shrouded in flickering digital lights. Government voyeurism at its most efficient. A surreptitious network of spies and employees, could even

Your eyes open, finally. You don’t know how long you’ve been de-commissioned. Just lying there. Could have been hours, probably days. No way to be sure. Where are you? It feels safe, and that’s good enough

You hear a rustling. You don’t think much of it, must be the old grumpy neighbour fetching his newspaper or milk, you really don't care A project has to be completed. Apps designed. Mr. Baluja has been

It’s late. 3AM late. Or early. Depends on who you ask. You belong to the mornings, not the nights. A slave to the six pendulum swings of the cuckoo clock. You awaken to a sound. A crackling, a pressured