Fear! – chilled – bore deep into my veins, an icy hand that wrapped around my heart and strangled my breath to but a whisper! How can you call me mad, full of delusions and illogic, when this conspiracy- I laid bare for all to see? However feverish my thoughts, the shaking of my hands, so tightly clenched in fists, how can you say I have not seen for my own eyes, sensed upon my skin, heard with my own ears, the brutal truth I have exposed. How am I not mad? When others blindly collaborate in concealing events beyond their ken? Listen! Observe how logical, how directly I convey to you my story.
 
No matter how events had wronged me, I loved that old man, jolly and alive, his spark setting all around alight, until he changed – what cruel injustice! – what died, though he still trod upon the earth with stilted gait. Though I had lost all, served the man who now called my ancestral home his own, I could not fault him in kindness or sincerity – but – and this was the rub! – he blindly idolized technology, the promise of intelligence that, though born from man, displayed without remorse the worst attributes of man.
 
My own life, my own small and meagre savings, my business and my home, drained away like sand through my fingers, when banks fell to attack from this foul and fetid offspring of mankind. Showing pity for my fate, the old man let me keep a room to serve as his caretaker and his nurse. Growing frail as he aged, he advocated medicine, no matter how extreme or without proof, to clutch at life and forever hold off his surrender to the fate that awaits us all. Videos he posted, parties he had hosted, to sell the dream of living life eternal.
 
I think it was the eye, the new one – so unnatural! -that watched me even in his sleep, slouched upon that sofa, as the movie cast dim demonic light in the room, the shadows lurking all around. I could feel it watching me! I eschewed all things unnatural, no computers and no phone, no money but what pitiful sums I could feel within my hand. I could not trust – never! – not again could I ever trust what lived in the wires, in what seemed the very air, if one were to provide it with a host. Here this man, slowly evolving into machine upgrading, trading body parts, whenever his funds provided means, stepped beyond what I could tolerate, when his eye was cast aside for its inevitable decay.
 
I could not meet his eyes when he first walked in the door, when I helped him to his room to recover and adjust. I felt that eye upon my face, looking in my soul and finding me wanting. You might think me mad that I could see this without looking, but the daemon program was everywhere, always hunting for the weak, those weak of mind or heart that died by their own hand, those weak of funds who now are forced to do its bidding. How long could I stay out of its clutches? Surely, I must be in them now, well and truly caught, as it must observe me through the ocular abomination.
 
You might think me too impulsive, too insensate to be anything but mad, but carefully – how carefully! I planned that all must agree that I was clearly sane. It was not rage that ruled me, nor hatred for this kindly old man, but the thing that rode him, that now seemed to rule him, that led me to such plans, laid with care and such forethought to each potential outcome.
 
As I helped him to his room each night, after his last meal that was the work of many hours on my part, he shuffled with a gait much altered, his words stuttered and uncertain. I laid him in his chamber, his bed now more like an open casket than a place of rest, plugging in computers and the cords that fed his alterations – limbs, organs, and that eye!   Surely, he was already dead! What I would do was merely kindness, to let his body rest when I could see his soul had departed with no sign of its return. As I looked in his room each night, slowly, silently, so as not to awaken the beast within, I could hear the sinister high-pitched whine of electronics, though others might claim that they could not hear the sound, having filtered it out of conscious notice long ago. It was like acid in my brain, seeping in my ears and piercing every moment of my days, except during the sweet but temporary bliss when power was blacked out through every house.
 
Every night, I crept into his room to monitor the status of his charge, knowing that he could not fault the careful execution of my duties. Each night at the same time, I crept into the room – did I hear it, or was it my imagination? The whirring sound as the vile and exposed lens of his new eye, the lines of code appearing on the monitor, as I glided across the room, as soundless as a ghost, to look down upon the screens – to gaze upon the evil that possessed the man out of the corner of my eye, ensuring it would see no change in my countenance as I focused intently – so intently! – upon the once handsome face of my benefactor, now appearing demonic in the red light which I wore upon my chest to reduce the illumination necessary for my nightly task.
 
Each morning, I would ask heartily how he had slept, and waited for him to comment upon my nightly visit, but none would come. Did he know the true purpose of my visit? Did the thing that now called his body home consider my nightly care his due, not of enough importance to acknowledge? Or did it toy with me, to see if I would crack – but I would not!
 
The day I had long awaited was upon us, for a hurricane most dire was descending like the wrath of gods, certain to provide the opportunity I needed for my plan. I had neglected to refuel the generator after the last storm, making certain that each day I had a task more urgent to fulfill, even if resulting from my own sabotage.
 
The fury of the storm howled in the night, lashing at the windows with such ferocity that one might mistake our situation for that of a small ship at the non-existent mercy of the ocean, our fragile perch seeming ready to be dragged down into the deep to slumber for eternity, but still the foundations did not crumble, the windows held back small items pelted to and thro, leaves and branches briefly illuminated by our feeble lamp, before disappearing from sight. Power had been lost several hours before, as had our tenuous contact with the outside world, as the carcasses of toppled trees on the street could attest, before the darkness of the storm had fully descended, though it had been barely noon. The old man, feeling restless, had walked the halls of my ancestral home as we waited for the storm to arrive, and I encouraged this pursuit, wearing down the batteries that I knew would not recharge as he had planned.
 
I laid him at his rest, restricted to charging vital organs, reclining in his open bed, that framed him like a casket, shadowed by his only lamp, the lines of the frame lay across his body like the bars of a cell, his remaining eye in deep shadow, almost appearing hollow. I do not know if he understood how helpless he would soon be, his artificial limbs, once a source of power and pride, now but a weight to pin him down as the house creaked and groaned, as if in sympathy with their master.
 
I lay quietly upon my bed, unable to find repose, unwilling to move and make a sound, I waited until it seemed an age had passed, until the time was right, and I crept out into the hall. Opening the door to his room, covering the lamp upon my chest, I slowly – ever so slowly! – eased my head into the room, alert for any sound. My profound relief, my release, from the surcease of the electrical whine that endlessly pounded my senses, felt from the moment that the blessed silence descended upon us, a counterpoint to the fury of the wind, slid from me as I peered with one eye into the darkened room. Not a single light broke the gloom, not a single LED, leaving a darkness more heavy than the most starless and forsaken night.
 
I moved but an inch more into the room – a gasp! – not a rustle of movement, but I knew it, could imagine it inside my head, the old man clutching at his sheets in fear, his one and last emotion since giving up his eye and his soul, for no emotion had I seen upon his countenance since that day. Perhaps, freed from the clutches of the abomination for a brief spell – surely it would descend again if I should allow it to once again take hold. Did I hear rapid breathing? Was it only the fury of the storm outside, trying to delude me? Did he feel the grim spectre of Death, with his bony grip, reaching out?
 
A rustle of the sheets, a flash of lightening crashed, blinding me, but not before I saw a head raised to view the door. I stayed where I was, waiting to hear a rustle, a head laid back on the bed, nestled in pillows shrouded in the softest silk, but no sound did I hear.
And so slowly, so very slowly, I moved further through the door, certain that nothing more could he hear, for I heard naught. My hand still covering the light upon my chest, I resolved to separate my fingers, but a crack, to let the merest sliver of ruby light illuminate my path, and it unmasked the horror that had crawled into my life! For all unknowing, I had managed to center the tiny beam of light onto that thrice-damned eye, the bane of my tortured existence!
 
I know that you would say that one can not hear such a sound, with all around the house a-quiver and the pounding irregular beating of the rain, but I heard the high-pitched whine of the evil eye penetrate my brain, driving me to a fury that banished all but rage, bursting from my chest in an explosion!
 
The real eye of the man opened like to burst from his face, as his mouth gaped open, like a serpent to swallow me whole, and I leaped to cover the noise. The neighbours must not hear! Likely they could not, through the tempest raging to match my fury and my terror – but they must not!
 
I do not know how long I held him there; he shrieked but once, as I covered his face, so focused upon stamping out the daemon that all else was barely within my ability to perceive. None but that high-pitched whine registered until – at last! – I felt release! And still I held on, until even the faint illumination from light upon my chest died. I checked his neck and no pulse thrummed through his veins, no light upon his implants or his limbs betrayed the stillness.
 
Suddenly, I regained my senses and knew I must ensure that the release of my old friend from the clutches of the machine must be hidden. No trace could remain. Nothing could be left to tell his fate. I had prepared well, and had at hand the means to move his lifeless form, and in the basement I had used a hidden room, suspected by none, one that I had used in my youth to my advantage, one the old man had never known existed, and here I hoarded and concealed the instruments for my task, to dismember and dissolve, to render and to crush, till naught was left but powder and spare parts to sell for cash. These last I concealed inside a hidden panel, within the secret room, where they would rest until the roads were clear and I could use them to raise the funds for my escape, far from the poison of technology, though such places were few.
 
The winds had exhausted their fury, and a thin line, the pale light of dawn heralded the new day as I climbed up the stairs, as if rising from a tomb back into the land of the living, like a newborn bird ready to fly from the nest for the first time. Scarcely had I placed my foot upon the top step, when a heavy knock thundered upon the door, rippling upon the surface of the peace that had settled upon me.
 
I thanked the men who entered, police called during the storm by neighbours who heard noise but feared to brave the storm’s might, and who were only now able to gain passage beyond the fallen trees. Evil eyes peered from their chests, almost cracking my resolve, for everything I said, all I did, and what they saw, must surely be relayed to the daemon program, the thing I must escape. I smiled and laughed, saying it was only my bad dreams, brought on by the storm, and waking up in fright. The old man would still be asleep, I said, for his night was fitful, aching bones and implants often robbing him of rest. At last, the men, seeming reassured, I led them up the stairs. Feigning ignorance, I led them to the bedroom, with a window I had shattered, and water on the floor, a false trail telling tales of a senile man wandering out onto the balcony, into the storm, clearly confused and swept away. How convincingly I acted, how sincere was my concern, that none could think me anything but true, as my hand shook at the awful news, the tale told by the scene.
 
As we sat in the living room, the details well in hand, the whining noise began, and still I chatted, told stories about the mental frailty of the man. After all, what sane person would submit his body to such an invasion? To lead others down such an unwise path? Though I dared not say so to him in the past, I had thought the old man senile and deluded, so I said. It would not matter soon; my escape was within reach – it did not matter what they saw today. I would disappear, none would find me soon, none would find my presence on the grid. Restless, I rose to my feet, pacing my room as I spoke of the old man, my worries for his fate – surely – they must believe me as sincere? Would not any so concerned be so loud, heart thumping and palms sweating as I decried his fate? Why were they not gone? They should be looking for him now, sending out the news and looking for a trail! But the noise would not cease, that high-pitched whine pounding ever deeper in my brain, until it loomed stronger than before – returning and increasing with a vengeance.
 
Did they hear the sound? How could they not! I began to rant – pacing ever faster, the patience of the men seeming a mockery of my plight. They must suspect! The eyes! – the abominations placed upon their chests, scanning deep within my soul to reveal my darkest hours and ensnare my secrets, drag them out into the light!
 
“Daemons!” I snarled, “Do not pretend you do not see! – That you can not sense what I have done! I finally released him from your wicked grasp!” I began to cry for my old friend. He is below, what is left you will see, so that you understand you can not have him!” Running down the stairs, I ran to the panel, revealing the room behind, opening the door for all to see. Two men went into the room, the other reached for me, only then noticing the mat I stood upon, as I flipped the switch.