Paranoia

It was a cold November evening. Rain was showering on the street, creating a constant background noise. People ran from cover to cover, and residents of the building gathered near the window, admiring the incredible scenery outside — except for Karl. 

Karl spent what seemed like an eternity examining his mug. His favorite mug, the mug he had for several years. Yet there was something strange with it. Using something for a long time, you remember small things about it: little cracks, stains, tiny pieces of something edible that was stuck near the handle. It was there, but something was wrong. Just like if someone bought a brand new mug and...

"Hey, Karl, are you alright?"

"Jesus Christ!"

Karl got frightened and turned around, convulsively trying to control his hands and not to break anything. The mysterious voice belonged to his friend, Konrad, who stood in his kitchen with an anxious expression and a bottle of wine.

"Yes, yes, I'm alright, it's just... Wait, how did you get into my apartment?"

"You gave me the spare keys, remember?"

Konrad put the bottle on a table and proceeded with the conversation.

"Are you sure you are alright? You look really concerned about something. I mean, people in your profession always look concerned, but today, it's a bit too much. What's going on?"

"Yeah, no, it's nothing serious," Karl got two wine glasses in the kitchen and proceeded to sit at the table while trying to express his concerns. "It's just my mug. It doesn't look right."

"Your mug?" Konrad was visibly surprised. "The one you have from college? The only thing that's not right about it is that I remember you holding your mug more than holding your ex-wife."

"I mean, that's why we got divorced," Karl laughed; "Not because of the mug, obviously, but you get the point."

Karl realized he had forgotten about a wine opener and went to the kitchen to get it while continuing his speech.

"The point is it's not like it should be. It's hard to explain. Something is not right. Maybe it's a little cleaner than usual, but something else is off too."

"That happens to mugs when they get cleaned," Konrad said, trying to play it as a joke but looking really concerned. "Are you saying what I think you are saying?"

The room was silent for a moment. Karl was deep into his thoughts and unsure if he wanted to discuss it. But there is no better person to share his fears than Konrad.

"I mean," Karl began hesitantly, "You know the country we live in. With all the secret police, and repressions, and all this stuff. What if they are spying on me?"

"You are right about a country we live in," Konrad ate an olive and continued, "And you know much better than I do about all the people that fell into paranoia and lost themselves in madness. No one was watching them, and no one is watching you, Karl; you just forgot that you washed the mug; don't do this to yourself."

"Yeah, I guess you are right."

"I'm seriously, Karl, don't do this to yourself! This country already lost too many good men to paranoia; we cannot lose you too."

"You are right. And I really mean it." Karl and Konrad smiled at each other and started the dinner. 

While you age, you tend to lose your friends. Not because something is wrong with you or with them (at least, mostly). But because life drives you apart. You begin to work, they begin to work. You start a family, they start a family. Suddenly, you don't see each other anymore, you hardly know what is happening in each other's lives, and all your conversations are mostly wishing each other a Merry Christmas. 

That was not the case for Karl and Konrad. They were there for each other for as long as they can remember. They finished school together, lived together through college, and helped each other in all ways possible. Konrad was there when Karl got married and divorced. Even when they started to drift apart, they made a deal to gather every two weeks to drink some wine and catch up on what was going on in their lives. Karl knew he could trust Konrad and didn't lie when he said he would abandon all that spy paranoia. At least, he thought that.

Soon after Konrad left, Karl poured himself some tea in the mug, the one that almost drove him crazy, went to his cabinet, and opened some documents he was working on. He opened a file, took a sip of tea, and wanted to start the work, but he still hesitated. He could not stop staring at the mug. Obviously, Konrad was right. The mug was the same as always. But Karl could not stop thinking that someone bought a new mug and tried to recreate the original one with cracks and stains.

Was it paranoia? Certainly. But Karl knew one thing — he must do something to find out, or his mind will never be at peace again.

That night, Karl put away his documents, finished the tea, and went to sleep. The following day, he bought a camera and hid it in the cabinet. If someone was there spying on him, they would return to the apartment.

Days passed, and Karl sat in his cabinet each evening and watched videotapes from his camera. Nothing. Day after day, week after week. He did not tell Konrad anything about it so as to not disappoint his friend. He knew that it was not healthy to do something like that to yourself, but he couldn't stop. He promised to monitor it for a month or a month and a half and then stop.

It was almost the deadline, if not counting the ones Karl already moved to later. He understood that he slowly lost control over his paranoia and knew that it must come to an end. One more time. That's it. Karl committed to watching the very last tape from this camera. And there was nothing. Again. But something was off.

Karl replayed the tape again and noticed what was bothering him. The timestamp skipped three seconds once. It may have been just a manufacturer error or problems with the power supply, but Karl still wanted to check for something. If he was right, someone might have erased part of the tape. In that case, they knew where the camera was because they saw how Carl hid it.

He took his flashlight and tested it against his camera. Light reflected on the lenses and created small flares. If he was being watched, his apartment must contain other cameras. Karl knew that he was too deep into his paranoia but could not resist himself. After all, if he found out he was right, that's not paranoia.

He started flashing his apartment, inch by inch. He couldn't find anything until he saw a flare in a bookshelf. He put his hands on the shelf and tried to find what caused this flare. His hands touched something, and his heart skipped a beat. There was another camera.

He rushed to his desk to watch the tape on a newly found camera. His hands shook, and his mind could not focus on a single thought. He finally had proof that he was right all the time! Nevertheless, it took him much courage to activate the camera. He would have to live with whatever was there for the rest of his life. But he knew that there was no other choice.

The tape was on. Karl first noticed a person changing the SD card on a camera. It seemed like a regular procedure, and Karl could not wait to see who this man was. A second later, the villain revealed his face. It was Konrad.

Karl could not believe what he saw. Konrad, his best friend, was a secret police officer—and he was spying on Karl! The tape went on as Konrad took Karl's camera and started editing it. This is why there was nothing on the camera before. But it took just one mistake for everything to be revealed. Then Konrad found the documents Karl was working on, took some notes in his textbook, put everything in its place, and left.

Karl was shaking. He could not breathe normally and started crying. Konrad. Out of everyone, Konrad, his best friend. The only person he could trust. All these years, everything they went through, all the time they helped each other live through the worst moments of their lives, were now void. Nothing. Just a lie.

Karl was heartbroken. He didn't know what to do and wasn't even sure if he wanted to live anymore. He felt like all his life had been a giant lie.

No. It's not how it should end. One thing that jerk was right about is that this country could not lose Karl, too. It was hard and tough. But he had to do something right now.

First, Karl scouted the house to find more cameras. There was one in the bedroom and one in the living room. Now, it's time for action. Two can play this game, and Konrad just lost a huge advantage. Now Karl knows he is being watched.

First, Karl edited the footage from the found cameras. Now he knew exactly where they were and how to hide what should not be found. He didn't want to look too suspicious, though; sometimes, he left some clues, usually useless, so that he would not be detected.

As for Konrad, Karl made sure he did not suspect anything. As hard as it was, the two continued their tradition of gathering every two weeks. Karl had to put all his willpower to use to not punch his "friend" in the face. Sometimes, he skipped the wine party for made-up reasons but always edited the videotapes accordingly. One evening, when they sat at the table, Karl said the one thing he had planned for a long time:

"Hey, Konrad, I want to show you something I was working on. Just promise to keep the secret, all right? It might cause big problems if anybody knows except for us."