My wife says the Bureau isn’t watching me. She says there aren’t cameras in my contact lenses. No microphone in the ‘vitamin pill’ they made me swallow on the submarine into Tokyo. She says I’m paranoid. That I should get off the couch, and find a job. But there’s a glowing number in the bottom-right corner of my vision. And each time I move, each time I yawn, or slouch, or laugh too loudly, the number ticks upwards. My wife says the Bureau isn’t watching me. She would say that. She works for them. Plunge into Patenting Peter, a psychological sci-fi thriller.