I have no illusions that I can outsmart the Machine. Instead I adopt the strategy of the microbe. Invisible to the naked eye, I scurry off at the first sight of symptoms. The Machine still can’t see me, for now, no matter how penetrating its gaze. It’s more like a face on a movie screen, which appears to be looking at you. The Machine is watching you with unseeing eyes. It’s watching you with the keen stare of a predator sniffing the air, trying to locate a precise smell.

By spending enough time outdoors, people turn back into animals of sorts. We become one with the land when we constantly occupy it. I cease to fear danger; I become the danger. I know the road, the cadence of my walk, the texture of the ground, the exact time a given route will take, the energy each step requires of me.

At home I study maps. I always use paper maps, and I always pay cash. I use cash for everything I buy for expeditions: clothing, shoes, accessories. I only ever look at digital maps in public places on other people’s computers. Ditto internet research. I want to learn as much as possible about the things I buy for specific purposes. I want the most popular models, the most common brands.

Take my Remington 870 Wingmaster. It’s the “best-selling, most trusted” shotgun of all time. Commonly known as a twelve-gauge. My family’s not big into guns though our neck of the woods, around Dupuis Creek, is crawling with rifles once fall comes around. Because he’s not into hunting, my dad often gets taunted by the people around here. They call him an “animal lover.” So when it came to firearms, I had to figure everything out for myself. Everyone on the discussion forums agrees when it comes to the 870. It sells tens of thousands of units every year in Canada alone.

I have to admit that I’m lucky: I reached the minimum age to buy a gun just a few months before the mandatory gun registry came into effect. I got my permit right before purchasing my gun. I used my student credit card, the one they give you when you’re just poor enough to run up a little debt. Today I have another card, from another company, with a different number.

So I bought my gun and took the little mandatory gun-safety course. Then I let time do its work. I even bought all my ammunition well in advance. And since then I’ve been waiting for the perfect opportunity while the trace slowly erases itself. I practise out in the forest, far from other people.