I scratched the cats throat trying to sooth her. My left stayed on top of her head my tendrils attaching more strings to the memory of my feeling the need to cough. Once I was satisfied with the woven tapestry, I removed my filaments and started stroking her back.

“Its okay baby, we’ll go the to the vet tomorrow.” I picked her up and placed her on the floor as close to the microphone as reasonable. Then taking a rag from the nearby wash basin I covered the frame on the mantle as securely and quietly as possible.

The cat was still trying to cough the imaginary hair out without success. I smiled and tucked the small frame into my pocket. If there was one in my studio, I doubt the person that placed it here would have stopped with just the one. It was going to be a hassle to find if there even are any in the rest of my apartment.

I stepped outside the studio into the living room and closed my eyes. I made a backup loop in my memories of the microphone in the studio and set to do so again in 15 seconds. My eyes opened again and looked around. Scanning over walls, the corners and on top of any surface. I counted down the seconds as the memory refreshed in my head. I looked again to be sure.

The timer ticked down in my head again. No memory loss or attention deviation. It seemed at least that the dining room adjacent to my studio was safe. Methodically I paced through the apartment my step slowing as I looked over every inch of my household.

I came to my bedroom and relaxed. The memory refreshed and I was on edge again. My fingers curled into a fist, and I closed my eyes again. I counted down the seconds. With 3 seconds left I opened them again and looked close to my bed. My mind focused in on itself.

The feeling of my eyes relaxing. I could see a fractal pattern spreading out of the fresh memory into my being. A tree of sharp ice impacting anything that resembled itself.

The memory of microphone on the mantle refreshed in my mind, my paranoia spiked. I closed my eyes again. My fingers strained. I focus on my mind.

In the last second before the memory of the microphone, was a jagged hole carved expertly. I could see the threads of thought and memory weaving it back together. An automatic response to fill any void or lapse in memory. Using what was and what is to rebuild a pattern of what could have been.

I forced myself to breathe, to relax my fingers. My eyes still closed; I inched over to my bedside table. If they were bold enough to place a microphone on my mantle, they wouldn’t hesitate to place one so close to where I sleep.

I felt around on my bedside table, in the middle was a round object. I took it slowly and felt if there was anything attached my hand exploring the object. It had a square base with a hollow bottom. With no other defining trait.

I stuffed the object under my sheets and opened my eyes. I saw the bulge under the blankets and smiled. The table next to it was not in such a good state. Right where the globe stood was hole in the table. Messy and done in a haste. In that hole was another microphone.

It seemed like they limited themselves to audio means only. Which means it works though digital mediums as good as anything visual.

“I wonder what Sarah is up to?” I said aloud as made my way to the wardrobe. “I bet she is barely resting with all the people she helps.” Spreading misinformation was a dangerous game. Give them something they can easily verify makes it easy to see if you are feeding them lies or truth. Build trust before you try to betray someone. Otherwise, they see right through you and shoot you first.

I opened my tie drawer and took out a handkerchief. “I’ll have to offer her a chance for a painting session. Maybe she’ll like that…. I hope she likes it.” With the handkerchief unfolded I made my way over to the bed. I closed my eyes again and reached beneath the covers.

I wrapped the object in the cloth. The shape a little difficult to get fully enclosed, I opened my eyes and set the memory of both microphones to refresh every 5 seconds within my mind.

In my hands was without a doubt the deadliest snow globe I could imagine. The person placing it had to have a way to counteract the effect. if they could counteract it why limit it audio recording only? Why setup memory altering objects in an apartment with a man you might suspect having memory altering abilities of his own?

If you discover this tale on Amazon, be aware that it has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road. Please report it.

Am I the real target of this infiltration?

Fact one: No one has been in my bedroom, other than the spy.

Fact two: the only people that comes to the studio are clients or patients.

Fact three: They can only record audio as far as I can tell.

Any clients that want a painting of themselves are out. The target would be any one of my therapy patients, Or maybe a combination of me and a client? A confession?

A high value target confessing incriminating information to an unlicenced person of questionable origin. Sounds almost like a romance novel.

“Early day tomorrow. But maybe there is some time to check on Daphne.” I tucked the memory globe into my sock drawer before making my way outside. Cath was calming down in the studio, I could faintly hear her clearing her throat less violently.

I smiled again, the thought of making someone feel soul crushing depression. The feeling of love undeserved. Hate more powerful than the idea of self-preservation. I could have a everyone in a police station feel the need to protect me. Give them the gut feeling that no matter what, I could not be the monster that anyone says I am.

I closed the door behind me and locked it shut. I stopped and looked up at the ceiling of corridor. I looked around again and spotted the camera. The annoying part of today was that I failed to even think of the cameras. The need to extract and transplant information and making biological servants was too narrow focus.

I needed to think of not just what I could have people do. I need to learn how to use people outside the scope of just a product of my own goals. They could do so much more if I elevated them. A council of brilliant minds all serving to achieve the goals of the one.

“I need this mystery man dead. even if his presence has pressured me into new discoveries and ideas.” I made the promise and reinforced the memory in head.

I put on the smile of Frank and made my way up to the party upstairs.

The top floor was a penthouse suite, the owner was the richest on the block. Her husband died in an unfortunate accident, or so she claims. It might have a been an accident, but he was not dead. Neither was he alive.

As she threw parties and had many guests over. She her man locked in room hung up by chains and draped in silks more expensive than anything I could afford on my own. In front of him monitors of cameras all over the penthouse suite. Hidden cameras in every nook and cranny looking at everything all at once.

He could not call for help. His vocal cords surgically removed. His tongue ripped out and scarred over. His jaw permanently open with a golden ball gag. Kept alive with the best medical equipment money could buy.

Specifically, money made from the medical equipment Daphne was forced to design under threat and fear of torture. A family of vengeful psychotics with greed far outweighing their morals.

Daphne was a brilliant person. A genius of her generation, forced by the rich to make them more money. She made her escape and planned her revenge. Meticulous in her approach she was extremely successful in her plans. Everything worked out as she just how she wanted. Except for the trauma. Her pattern was vast and deep, I couldn’t possibly parse all the knowledge she has accumulated. The nebula of sparks was in a violent storm. The centre of her being was a rigid cube with wires reaching out into the ocean of knowledge. Growing out on a corner of the cube was an ugly tumour of hate and desperation.

She was the best present a man like me could luck upon. I would help her, and she would help me.

I knocked on the door with a smile and waited. The door opened and there she stood. “Daphne! It’s great to see you!” She smiled just as brightly as she wrapped me in hug. I took the opportunity to use my tendrils as I used them on Sarah. She hugged me tighter as she felt the relief in her entire being.

She pulled away and kissed me on cheek “Martin! I’m so glad you are here! Have you met my friends?” She dragged me in immediately after the hug. Everyone at the party had a dog or a puppy it seemed. The house was a mess of animals and people mingling with each other.

“I have seen them walk past in the lobby. How is Kurt doing?” The name of her dog was the same as the man strung up. It never ceased to amaze me how attached someone could get to the thing that hurt them the most.

“Wonderfully. He just turned 5!” She shouted out to the crowd. At the exclamation everyone cheered and took a drink. I kept my smile up and cheered with them.

I raised my voice above the crowd as I looked to Daphne “That’s wonderful! Listen I need to talk about our sessions! I’m almost done with the painting, but I need to refill on paints. Would you mind if we can schedule a time and have a look together on what colours you would like?”

Her eyes narrowed, the smile on her lips never faltering. She took a long sip of her Champaigne again and cheered one more time for her dog. “Lets party!!” pulled me by the arm her lips coming close to my ear. “Tomorrow lunch.” She kissed me on cheek and smiled before dancing to the centre of the dance floor.

I smiled like an embarrassed teen, two ladies giggled off to the side. I made my cheeks blush a brighter red before turning around and leaving. Daphne was the highest target on my list of potential targets for the spy. I needed her expertise and medical equipment if I was going to get these memory artefacts figured out.