Paranoia

They were following him again.
Kendrick Hall glanced quickly behind him. The streets of Washington D.C. were crowded as usual. He had no idea who was following him, or why, he just knew they were. Of course, he had never actually spotted Them, despite countless attempts to catch Them, he just knew They were there. He also knew that his analyst, who he was headed to see today, would tell him the followers were just a manifestation of his overactive and over-paranoid imagination. But then she would. She was quite possibly one of Them.
He crossed the Mall and headed around the Potomac tidal basin to the Jefferson Memorial. It was not exactly on the way to the analyst, Dr Marie Shenck, but he had plenty of time before the appointment. Hall rarely drove these days - advances in surveillance technology made driving too easy for Them. Even so, he frequently checked the underside and wheel arches of his car for tracking devices. They were not likely to use such outdated technology, far easier to use the microchip secretly embedded in every license plate and track him with satellites. He knew about the microchip license plate - most people didn’t - but there were undoubtedly countless other technologies They used that he wasn’t aware of. And so,  he headed to the least visited of the presidential monuments on foot. They could still track him with ease, but this way he had a chance to catch Them at it.
Stopping below one of the cherry trees which circled the basin, to tie a shoe - which didn’t need tying - he once again glanced around him. There were still too many people about; it was tourist season after all; but here there were fewer than before. He took a mental snapshot of some of them, hoping to recognize someone from some other time. A middle aged man in a business suit perhaps? But that was too obvious. A young mother pushing a stroller? That was more Their style.
Continuing around to the monument, Hall began to have doubts. Maybe they weren’t following him today. Maybe he was just being paranoid. They weren’t there every day, he knew that. Sometimes weeks would pass before he sensed Them. Then They would be there, everywhere he went for a day or two before disappearing again. He hadn’t noticed them at all recently, so maybe they weren’t really there now. Maybe, he thought, they had given up altogether. His spirits climbed as he allowed this hope into his mind. It was possible. Maybe they had realized he was no threat, or decided he was not the person they had intended to follow. After all, Hall could find no reason why anyone would be following him. He was just an ordinary guy. As ordinary as they came. Maybe They had come to the same conclusion.

Reaching the Jefferson memorial, Hall sat at a bench and reached into his sports bag - it went everywhere with him - for cigarettes. He looked out across the water, to the phallic spire of the Washington monument. The woman with the stroller walked past in front of him, glancing, oh so casually, at him as he did. She even smiled slightly. So They hadn’t stopped following. And he was right, she was one of Them. He reached back into his bag and pulled out a digital camera and snapped a quick photo as she walked away. It was mostly her back, but he got part of the side of her face. When he got home later he would download it and compare it with the others, to see if he had seen her before. She didn’t look familiar, but he had several thousand photos now, grouped into various categories. He briefly considered following her; turn the tables a little. He was sure she would know he was following, after all she was a professional, but wherever she ended up or who she met, may give him some clues as to who They were. But of course he had his appointment today, the alluring Dr Shenck.

He had been seeing her almost 2 years now. Referred to her by his primary care physician after being diagnosed with depression - now happily under pharmaceutical control. At first he had enjoyed the weekly visits to Dr Shenck. She was young, attractive and obviously intelligent. Of course, there was no chance of a relationship, he was a patient after all, but she lifted his spirits, none the less.
Then They had started following him. Back then he had put his fears down to paranoid delusion. A side effect of the anti-depressants perhaps? But Dr Shenck had told him that was unlikely. He’d asked about possible side effects without mentioning the followers, of course, but she was so perceptive and realized something was wrong and asked him what was bothering him. He should have told her everything, but he glossed over it, saying he had a feeling someone was following him, but wasn’t really sure about it. Said he just wanted to be sure it wasn’t something caused by the drugs, and it didn’t really concern him. And in truth, back then, it hadn’t really concerned him.
Dr Shenck continued to ask him about  it at every visit for a while. “Do you still feel that you are being followed?” or “Have you had any more paranoid episodes?”. After that first time of mentioning it, Hall just told her no, that everything was fine, and after a couple of months she stopped asking. They had moved on to other issues, searching for the cause of his depression. For a while he stopped taking the pills, convinced despite Dr Shenck’s assurances, that the feeling of being followed must be a side effect. But They were still there, and the depression returned. By the time he had resumed taking the drugs he was convinced the followers were real, and was becoming suspicious that Dr Shenck might be a part of it. After all, they had first appeared after he had started seeing her, and for a while there, she had seemed especially interested  in whether or not he really thought he was being followed. When he thought back, he remembered that they had stopped for a while after he had first mentioned it. Was it because she had told Them, he had spotted them? Then when they had started following again, she kept asking if he’d seen Them. Was she checking to make sure they were being more surreptitious now?
So why did he keep seeing her?
Because it was Dr Shenck who prescribed his drugs, without which he knew he would become suicidal again, and she insisted the weekly sessions were essential. Together, she had told him, we can find the root cause of the depression, and maybe (she stressed the maybe) one day he would be able to stop taking the drugs altogether. And besides, deep down, he really didn’t believe she was one of them.

On the far side of the basin, someone would be watching him through high powered binoculars of course. Far enough away, or hidden, so that he couldn’t see Them. The woman with the stroller would have radioed in that he was sitting here, once she was out of his line of vision. They would have someone new ready to follow when he left, but for now They would watch from a distance.
He flicked his cigarette butt into the water, and walked into the gift shop - a temporary trailer to the side of the actual monument. There were a few people about, not as many as the thousands making a pilgrimage to Lincolns memorial, or staring up at Washington’s monument. The lack of visitors was why he came to see Mr. Jefferson from time to time. Less people for the followers to mingle with. They liked crowds. Crowds made them invisible. He cautiously noted a few people who might be there to watch him, people he would look out for later as he browsed the shop.
This was one of his tests. He selected a cheap paperback guide book - title and content irrelevant. He didn’t even look at the title, just picked one at random and took it to the counter to pay. If one of the other customers was one of Them, this behavior was sure to attract Their attention. Back outside, he pulled a pen from his bag, opened the book at random and wrote in the margin, “3 brown ponies ride at sunset” - making sure he was in full view of the watcher with binoculars. What he wrote was as irrelevant as the book he wrote it in. That he be seen doing it was what mattered. He looked around guiltily, again for the benefit of whoever was watching him, then walked over to the nearest trash bin and deposited the book. He would come back later and see if it was still there. If it was, then he could be fairly certain They weren’t watching today. If They were though, how could they resist  such behavior, the book would be collected for analysis. One final guilty look around him and he was off. To Georgetown and his appointment with the lovely Dr Shenck.

He arrived early but she kept him waiting 5 minutes past his scheduled appointment. He always arrived early, and she always kept him waiting. Probably so she could phone Them and let Them know she was here. But, maybe not, she couldn’t really be one of Them. A tall hollow cheeked man came out of the Doctor’s office and glanced at him. He had hard, emotionless eyes. Hall thought he had seen him before. He was almost certainly one of Them. Did that implicate Dr Shenck? Or were They keeping tabs on her too?
As the tall man left, Dr Shenck came out into the waiting room, smiled her winning smile and invited him in. No way, she was one of Them. The office was simple and Spartan. He’d been surprised on his first visit to find no leather couch. Just a plain desk behind which Dr Shenck sat and at which she made notes during the session, and a low comfortable chair for him. It was low on purpose, he knew, to make the patient feel insecure, or maybe to make Dr Shenck feel superior. Either way it served to firmly establish a hierarchy.
“Last time you were here,” she began, glancing at her notes, “we were talking about your brother. You told me your mother always treated them different and that you  grew up thinking they were her only real sons, that you were adopted.” She paused and looked up at him. Smiling no more, she was all business. “I want to explore that some more.”
At that point, Hall, as usual, tuned out. He heard her. Heard her well enough to answer her questions and to talk about his childhood. About his brothers and his mother. In truth, he had no brothers, but she didn’t need to know that. He told her what she wanted to hear. A story of childhood misery. He spoke automatically, not needing to think, even though just about everything he told her was made up. His mind was elsewhere. He was thinking about Them. Could she really be one of Them? He really didn’t think so. He was transferring his paranoia, looking for Them everywhere.
The hour came to an end, and Dr Shenck made sure he was feeling okay. She asked him if he was eating and sleeping, checking to make sure the antidepressants were working. She confirmed next weeks appointment. Then she threw him a curve.
“Have you felt as though you were being followed recently?”
He did his best not to show surprise at the question. She hadn’t asked him in so long. Maybe she could just sense it. After all, he really only knew he was being followed because he sensed it. Maybe she wasn’t one of Them after all. Being an analyst, she was perceptive, she must have sensed that he was worried. He felt a pang of guilt for not trusting her, and blurted it all out.
“Yes! All day today They’ve been watching me. There was a woman with a baby at the Jefferson Memorial and before that a Japanese tourist was taking photo’s of me. Then the man who came out of here before me, your last patient. He’s one of them too. I don’t know why but They are following me. And maybe he was here keeping an eye on you too!”
Dr Shenck looked concerned. Her brow furrowed. Hall was suddenly sure he had done the right thing. She wasn’t part of it. She could help him. It felt liberating to finally share it. If he was imagining things, she could find the right drugs and fix it. If, as he was certain, They were real, then at least someone else knew. If anything happened to him, she would be suspicious.
“This is worrying Kendrick. We can talk about it more next week. I wish you had mentioned it earlier, I have another patient now.” She tapped her pen on the pad of notes, seemingly considering whether to cancel the next appointment to help him instead. “I want you to call me, any time, day or night, if you need to. Otherwise we will figure something out next week.” She patted his shoulder and handed him a card with the number she could be reached, then led him out into the waiting room.
The next patient was sitting there waiting. An older lady. She didn’t look at all familiar. Hall smiled at Dr Shenck and thanked her. A weight had been lifted. Back out into the sunshine, he headed home. He didn’t even feel the need to go and check the trash bin at the Jefferson Memorial.

After he left, Dr Maria Shenck went back into her office and looked thoughtfully at her notes. She picked up the phone and dialed a number from memory, taking today’s notes and adding them to the file while the phone rang. After a few rings a voice answered.
“Hall knows.” she said, “Pick him up. Now.”