She was a source. I cannot disclose her name or where she worked. She is a serious person. You do not have to believe me. She called because she had some new stuff to show off. This was a ruse. She wanted me to know about real power. It wasn’t funny. I tried wearing my best This Is Cute Mask, but it was a struggle. I wanted to say: How can you do this. I now know that all the hubbub about personal information is silliness. It looked like a telescope. But the telescope had earphones. If I pointed it at any house on the block, I could clearly hear everything. This was no toy. Dishwashers. Kids on bikes. Arguments. Sex. Music. Cars. Vacuums. Coughing. Dogs. TV. Doors slamming. Babies. News. Washing machines. Phones. Teenagers. It was ordinary. I knew more about the people on the block than they knew about themselves. This is very potent stuff. The arguments were political.

I knew how people were going to vote. I knew where their children went to school. I knew if they prayed or didn’t pray. I knew who their doctors were. I knew about every disease they had. I knew who was disabled. I knew where they worked and how much money they made. I know what they were eating. Listening becomes addictive. I needed a shower. Voyeurism is institutionalized. I felt like I was in someone else’s bed. Be very careful how loudly you speak, never say his name. If there is a resistance, they will know all of this. Information is power. You have absolutely none. One step out of line and you are toast. – Tim Barrus