"Why are they watching us?" Michael asked from the top of his crate. He preached his message in the park every weekend. No one usually stopped, but today Michael had a single listener. He still preached as if he stood in an auditorium, a coliseum; he preached as he would if he were to speak to the entire world.

"What do they want to achieve from constant surveillence?" 

Michael paused for dramatic effect.

"There are cameras everywhere, eyes in the skies, silent observers. There are cameras outside houses. There are cameras inside stores. The cameras used by the media are only another way they get their eyes on us."

He licked his lips and eyed his single listener.

"There are cameras in supermarkets, in banks and in police stations. There are cameras in police cars, in taxis and in buses. There are cameras on planes, in trains and on every vacation cruise you take."

His eyes locked with his single listener.

"There are cameras in museums, at the zoos and underwater. There are cameras following politicians, businessmen and executives. Cameras on cars and vans to map the world. The cameras are above the streets, at traffic lights and toll booths. There are cameras in computers, in phones and right in your face at the ATM."

He pointed at the single listener.

"There are cameras everywhere, watching everything we do." Michael paused, and then asked of his listener, "So why are you smiling?"

Michael's listener said, "I'm the guy that installs the cameras."