By Patrick F. Cannon

Fellows of a certain age will know that sleeping through the night is the province of the young. I can still vaguely recall groggily arising at around noon on a Saturday (or any day when school was out for that matter). As we get older, however, nature begins to send urgent messages that a trip to the bathroom might be prudent about halfway through our journey through the land of nod.

            I soon decided that walking into walls and stumbling over impediments in the pitch dark on my way to the bathroom was annoying, so I installed a night light in my bathroom (which is directly connected to my bedroom, or “en suite” as the French might say, but rarely do). It used one of those same little bulbs that one finds on Christmas trees. It worked with a switch that I turned on just before I headed for my bed. If I had to get up during the night, it provided sufficient light to permit safe passage.

             As with all old-fashioned bulbs, it would eventually burn out. Being prudent, I always had a supply of replacement bulbs. Recently, however, the bulbs began to burn out with more frequency. When one burned out within a week, I surmised that the culprit wasn’t the bulb, but the fixture. Apparently, the little wires inside had gotten jiggled about in some unfortunate way. Now, instead of calling an electrician, I decided a new light would be more economical, so went online to find a replacement.

            I found a dizzying array of them online. If you fancy puppy dogs, you can find a night light that sits up and begs when it comes on; or looks like a stained-glass window; or a bowl of flowers. I chose a plain one, or rather, two, since it was almost impossible to buy just one of anything these days. In the end, I went for simple but elegant from General Electric. When they arrived, I was not surprised that they  were made in China. I installed one in my bathroom and the other in the second bath, which is used mostly by guests. It was then that I noticed something strange, even eerie, about them.

             They don’t have a switch. When you turn the regular light off, they come on. I can’t help but get the feeling they’re watching me. As I switch the regular light off, the night light comes on immediately. How can that be? Is there someone in an underground complex in Beijing who’s watching me? You may scoff. How, you ask, can a small night light beam a constant signal across thousands of miles of ether. I need only remind you that the cell phone in your hand can do what vast room-sized computers once did. Why is it not possible for one of the billions of Chinese not otherwise occupied in sewing your next shirt to spend his or her day keeping track of Americans like me through their night lights?

            I was once part of America’s vast security apparatus; perhaps that’s why I was chosen for monitoring. Whatever the reason, I try to enliven my watcher’s day by making funny faces or telling jokes in a phony Chinese accent. Of course, if I were on TikTok, they wouldn’t have to resort to the night light ploy. And were I you, I’d be checking to see where my night light was made.

Copyright 2024, Patrick F. Cannon