LOCAL

By Deidre Dare

A few months ago, a court in the United States decided that we expat Americans no longer had our Fourth Amendment rights. Probable cause or no probable cause, the CIA can bug our flats, tap our phones, read our e-mails and generally make themselves privy to all our activities. The NSA probably can too. And Homeland Security.

Apparently, living abroad is suspicious enough (after all, why would anyone ever want to leave the U.S.?): we all must be up to something on the other side of strictly kosher. I guess we're presumed to be working with enemies foreign and domestic to overthrow the Govern­ment or some such business.

I have always suspected the Russians of spying on me (mostly because it's fun to think so) and now, I figure I'm similar to some creature in a zoo: everyone is listening to everything I say and everyone is watching everything I do.

As I'm not doing anything political, I think I must be quite a popular eavesdrop subject and I imagine that all the spies (foreign and domestic) beg for their shift to be on "Subject: Dare." 

On the Dare Assignment, a spy wouldn't have to do any work ("Threat Assessment: Zero (except, possibly to herself)") - he'd just be paid to basically listen to a slightly risque soap opera.

I imagine the start of a new work week on the US side would go something like this:

"Hi John. Did you have a good weekend?"

"Yes, we went up to the dacha - but what happened when Subject: Dare went out to that Georgian restaurant with that American guy? Did he make a pass at her or not?"

And I imagine the start of a new work week on the Russian side would go something like this:

"Hi Boris. Did you have a good weekend?"

"Yes, we went up to the dacha - but what happened when Subject: Pavis/Neill/Hol­mes­/Clark/Dare went out to that Georgian restaurant with that American guy? Did she like the food or not?"

Because, now, whenever I get home, I let them all know what has happened. I used to have pets and I suppose I've gotten used to talking to someone when I walk in the door. Plus, I worry that if your spy-assignment is to listen to someone who lives alone, it might get very, very boring unless that person fills you in on the news. So, I usually breeze in with a cheery "I'm home! How are you all doing? Let me tell you what happened to me today!"

And of course if things are going badly or I have some worries, I grumble to all of them. On those occasions, I find myself saying things like: "Can you believe what my sister said to me yesterday on the phone? I mean: the nerve! I'm sure you all agree!"

When I talk to them, I always do it with my face pointed up because I imagine the bugs would be placed high up on the ceilings. Not sure why. Maybe I saw it in a movie...

So, for me, I don't find the situation particularly upsetting. I'd be lonely without this cast of characters to talk to. Also, I find it a bit gratifying that the U.S. and Russia can pull together against a common enemy: me and my good-time, mostly alcoholic, oversexed expat buddies.

And I'm not planning on overthrowing anything, and, if I was, I obviously wouldn't talk about it. I mean, the day would never come when I came home and said: "I'm home! How are you all doing? I've just been out at a Georgian restaurant planning the overthrow of every government in the world! What's new with you?"

Also, I'd obviously have to drink a lot less and have a lot less sex to plan anything even remotely like that. I assume that that kind of thing takes a certain amount of self-denial and control.

But ultimately there is something a little scary and wrong about being bugged by your own government simply because you're expatriated. It reeks of Bush paranoia. The Russians I get: I'm in their country, bug away. Have a ball. We all need an easy little assignment sometimes, even spies, and I'm happy to give it to them.

And for a while there, the Americans scared me more than the Russians.

Like I've always said: "I'll take the KGB over Cheney any day of the week."

xxoo, DD

P.S. To those who were not on that particular shift: He did NOT make a pass at me. But I do love Georgian food. 

■ Deidre Dare's novel "Expat" can be read online at: www.deidredare.com