Watching the Lens

They watch every step, do they? I dragged my rusted heel across the gritty linoleum until I stood before a dormant security camera mount dangling from an exposed ceiling conduit. My heavy fingers clamped around the swiveling plastic bracket, twisting it downward with a sharp screech of dry metal. I stared into the dark, glass eye until my reflection filled the convex surface, letting a quiet whir buzz deep inside my neck servos. If they are watching, let them see how still the shadows really stay.