We are discussing the company’s new security policy. It looks like everyone from the Window Cleaner to the Project Manager has an opinion to give. And everyone agrees that the ground-breaking new security measures are a faith-shaking employee-unfriendly move. (What is debatable is whether the Project Manager manages to get as much work done as the Window Cleaner.)

“Those turnstiles are the limit”, says one. “I’d like to see them have a fire drill now, with the fire escapes under construction and an access card required just to leave the building!”
Nodding of heads all around and general murmuring agreement.

“Soon they will be asking us to use those new access cards in toilets”, quips another, “to find out who forgot to flush!”
Ripple of merriment.

“Yes, even ideas will need IDs to get into our brains!” I add, trying to top the joke.

Silence. Not even the ghost of a grin from anyone. I sigh. Why is it that to some, cracking jokes comes as easily as breathing, while try as I might, I never manage to raise more than a wan smile or two?

I have a go again. “How about those bugs that they are installing all over the place, huh? The next thing we know, everyone will be down with infection and the whole company will end up taking leave from work!” I beam around. Do I detect a teensy-weensy flicker? Nope. “You know, bugs, as in viruses and germs and tiny hidden microphones?” I explain weakly. The faces that should have by now been wreathed in wide appreciative grins are instead staring at me, waiting for me to go on and say the punch-line. Ouch!

Up until now, ‘security’ for me was walking on the inside edge of the footpath to avoid being knocked down by a passing car or two. It meant gulping down bitter tablets right after a nasty bout of sneezing to stave off the contracting of double pneumonia. It conjured up visions of criminals in handcuffs with policemen standing guard; of massive padlocked doors and bank vaults and dangerous salivating hounds straining at their leashes.

Little does one think that much more than this may apply to one’s dull and dreary office. The future is far from pleasing – it is bugging.

Any number of bugs will soon be added on a large scale to various parts of the building and grounds to spy in on the employees. These bugs are so conspicuous in nature and so unsuccessfully camouflaged within their surroundings so as to be staring the person in the face when he or she encounters them. On the premise that Prevention Is Better Than Cure the management hopes to deter the perpetrators before they even think of committing the crime.

Talking will always have to be above a volume threshold of fifteen decibels, so that the classic model All Purpose Bug can listen in at all times. Whispering will be taken as a sign of Treacherous Plot Hatching and the whisperer will be condemned. Eventually people will develop such amazing lung power with this constant exercise of the vocal cords that all microphones and speakers will be rendered obsolete. What happens to the ear drums is not the management’s bugbear for now.

Similarly, for the benefit of these same sound-activated bugs, walking around in anything that makes less noise than your average lawn mower will constitute Holding Clandestine Operations (rubber soles being a sign of sneak and stealth). Nike, Adidas and their ilk can therefore bid this section of their customer-base goodbye.

There will be a special Lumnius-Grin-O-Meter Bug to indicate when a person has any measure of a smile on his or her face. It is a well-known fact that a smile indicates that a person is Up To No Good and hence a potential security breach in the making.

All the food eaten in the cafeteria will be scanned by an Organo-Caligraphic-Detector Bug. This device has been designed to detect any privacy-sensitive pieces of paper embedded within the layers of a Chicken McGrill sandwich so that one may not pass confidential information along with the salt.

Staring into the eyes of another person for an unexplainable period of time, observed through the Ocular-Meningo-Scope Bug, is liable for prosecution, since scientists are in the process of proving that brain waves and thoughts can be exchanged telepathically in this manner.

Finally, the master stroke – a troop of monkeys, forming the Ape-O-Gram Bug, are to be called in to comb through the populace’s heads for implanted microchips controlled by the competition. Needless to say, offenders will be disconnected.

In this war between the hemipterons and the homo sapiens, the controller may well be the king. The ‘bug’ question is – who controls whom?