The Unblinking Bugs of Torre Suda


The Salento sun, usually a comforting blanket, felt like a spotlight on Walter and Claudia. Their days in Torre Suda were idyllic on the surface: long, languid mornings on the terrace, refreshing dips in the cerulean Ionian Sea, and evenings filled with whispered jokes and shared meals under a sky painted with stars. Yet, a persistent, icy finger of unease traced its way down Walter's spine, and Claudia, ever attuned to his moods, felt it too.

 

It wasn't just the memory of Mei-Lin, Walter's ex-wife, that cast a shadow. He'd disconnected the external observation cameras the moment Claudia had arrived, a preemptive strike against Mei-Lin’s notorious penchant for surveillance. Their divorce had been acrimonious, fueled by Mei-Lin's paranoia and her chillingly effective network of informants and technological tools. She’d always boasted about "seeing everything," and Walter had learned the hard way that she usually did.

 

“Are you sure they’re off?” Claudia had asked that first evening, her voice a low murmur against his chest.

“Positive,” Walter had replied, pressing a kiss into her hair. “I double-checked the system logs myself.”

Despite his reassurances, the feeling of being watched intensified with each passing day. It was subtle at first, a prickling sensation on the back of their necks, a fleeting sense of eyes on them from the dense olive groves that bordered Walter’s property. They’d laugh it off, attributing it to the lingering unease of Walter’s past, but the feeling clung to them like the humid July air.

 

Then came the insects. Not just any insects, but a specific, unnervingly constant duo: a large, iridescent red dragonfly and a sleek, dark grasshopper. They weren't just common garden visitors; these two seemed to linger. The dragonfly would hover persistently over the pool area as they swam, its wings a blur of motion, its multifaceted eyes appearing to track their movements. The grasshopper, equally persistent, would perch on the terracotta pots on the patio, its antennae twitching, its gaze seemingly fixed on them.

 

“It’s just nature, Walter,” Claudia had said initially, attempting to sound more convinced than she felt. But even she had to admit the sheer, unwavering presence of these creatures was odd. They moved with an almost unnatural precision, always within their line of sight, always seeming to observe.

 

“Mei-Lin always was ahead of the curve with her tech,” Walter mused one afternoon, watching the dragonfly perform an impossibly perfect mid-air pirouette above the shimmering pool. “She had connections, real cutting-edge stuff.”

Claudia's eyes widened. “You don’t think… miniature drones? Like… insect-sized cameras?”

The idea, once a fleeting, paranoid thought, suddenly solidified into a terrifying possibility. Mei-Lin, with her vast resources and her insatiable need for control, would absolutely stoop to something so insidious. The very notion sent a shiver down Walter's spine. The casual, almost innocent presence of the creatures was the perfect camouflage. Who would suspect a common insect?

 

“It’s too much of a coincidence,” Walter decided, his voice tight. “The cameras being off, the constant feeling of being watched, and these two… they’re always here. Always. And they act differently.”

Their carefree days in Torre Suda curdled into a tense stakeout. They began observing the dragonfly and grasshopper with a new, scrutinizing intensity. They noticed how the dragonfly would consistently position itself to have an unobstructed view of their activities in the pool area, even shifting its hover location as they moved from one end to the other. The grasshopper, too, seemed to orient itself for optimal observation, often in places where a real insect would simply be basking.

 

One evening, as they sat on the terrace, the grasshopper perched on the railing, seemingly fixated on them. Walter slowly reached for a small, decorative cushion. With a sudden, swift movement, he hurled it at the grasshopper. It didn't flinch, didn’t hop away with the frantic, erratic movement of a startled insect. Instead, it tumbled off the railing with an almost mechanical precision, landing softly on the paving stones below, still perfectly upright.

“Did you see that?” Claudia whispered, her face pale. “It didn’t even try to save itself. It just… dropped.”

The next morning, Walter devised a test for the dragonfly. He opened the window wide and then, using a small, reflective mirror, flashed a beam of sunlight directly at it. A real dragonfly, sensitive to light, would likely dart away or at least change its trajectory. This one, however, held its position, its iridescent body gleaming in the reflected light, as if impervious to the sudden glare.

 

“That settles it,” Walter said, his jaw clenched. “They’re not just insects. They can’t be.”

The realization brought with it a suffocating sense of invasion. Every private moment, every intimate conversation, every shared laugh – had it all been captured, transmitted, and analyzed by Mei-Lin? The thought was nauseating.

“We have to confirm it,” Claudia said, her voice determined despite the tremor in her hands. “And then we have to do something about it.”

 

They brainstormed quietly, their voices low, aware that even their whispers might be monitored. How do you catch something designed to look like an insect, that might be able to evade capture with advanced mechanics?

“They’re small,” Claudia mused, “but they still need to land, to recharge, or maybe just to conserve power.”

Walter’s gaze drifted to the skimmer box by the pool, a necessary evil for keeping the water clean. He remembered seeing the dragonfly occasionally settling on the edge of it, seemingly undisturbed by the water’s gentle current. And the grasshopper often frequented the terracotta pots by the patio doors.

“We need something sticky,” Walter said, a grin spreading slowly across his face. “Something that won’t look out of place.”

 

The next morning, armed with transparent, super-strong adhesive tape, Walter and Claudia executed their plan. Walter carefully applied a thin layer of the tape along the outer rim of the skimmer box, just beneath the water line, making it virtually invisible. Claudia did the same to the inside rim of one of the terracotta pots where the grasshopper frequently perched.

 

They waited. The tension in the air was palpable, almost as thick as the humid July morning. They tried to act naturally, reading by the pool, occasionally dipping their feet in the water. The dragonfly soon appeared, hovering in its usual fashion, before gracefully descending and settling on the edge of the skimmer box.

This time, it didn't take off.

 

A triumphant, silent glance passed between Walter and Claudia. The dragonfly struggled briefly, its tiny legs caught in the unseen adhesive, but the tape held firm. It buzzed, a mechanical whir that was suddenly distinct from a biological insect’s hum, but it was trapped.

 

Almost immediately, as if alerted by the dragonfly’s distress, the grasshopper appeared. It hopped onto the terracotta pot by the patio door, its antennae twitching rapidly. As it settled, Claudia, with a swift, practiced movement, slammed a small, clear glass tumbler over it. A soft thwack confirmed its capture.

 

Holding the glass tumbler containing the now-motionless grasshopper, Claudia approached Walter, who was carefully peeling the struggling dragonfly from the skimmer box with a pair of tweezers.

“We got them,” Walter said, a mix of relief and grim satisfaction in his voice.

They took their catches inside, laying them gently on a clean white towel on the kitchen island. Under the bright light, the illusion shattered. The dragonfly was no biological marvel. Its iridescent body was too perfect, too uniform. Tiny, almost imperceptible seams ran along its segments. Where a real dragonfly’s eyes would be, there were miniscule, perfectly round lenses. Walter carefully, using a small jeweler's loupe, found a microscopic charging port nestled underneath one of its wings.

 

The grasshopper was equally revealing. Its segmented body was too rigid, its legs too symmetrically jointed. Its antennae, rather than delicate sensory organs, appeared to be tiny, retractable filaments, possibly for data transmission or reception. A faint, almost invisible red light pulsed behind its head where its brain should have been.

Walter carefully used a small hobby knife to gently pry open a segment of the dragonfly’s body. Inside, a marvel of miniaturized engineering was revealed: a tiny circuit board, a minuscule battery, and an impossibly small camera lens no bigger than a pinhead. There was also a tiny, etched symbol – a stylized 'M' – Mei-Lin's personal corporate logo.

Claudia carefully examined the grasshopper, finding a similar, hidden compartment. This one contained what appeared to be a slightly different configuration of chips, perhaps for more robust data transmission or even directional audio capture.

 

“This is incredible,” Claudia whispered, chilled to the marrow. “The level of technology… it’s straight out of a spy movie.”

Walter nodded, his face grim. “Mei-Lin doesn’t do anything by halves. These are sophisticated surveillance drones, designed to look like part of the natural environment.” He picked up a magnifying glass, scrutinizing the tiny components. “They’re transmitting wirelessly, probably encrypted. The range must be substantial, or she has repeaters nearby.”

 

They spent the next few hours in a quiet, focused analysis, using Walter's old electronics tools and Claudia's sharp eye for detail. They mapped out the probable power sources, the camera sensors, and the likely communication modules. The sheer audacity of Mei-Lin’s scheme was breathtaking, but now, so was their proof. The feeling of being watched was gone, replaced by a cold fury and a grim determination.

They had caught the eyes that had watched them. Now, they had to figure out what to do with what they had found, and how to finally break free from Mei-Lin's pervasive, technological grip.

 

The story "The Unbliking Bugs of Torre Suda" is now history,

let's wait for the next "short criminal tale"

to unfold, where will Claudia and Walter take us next...