Walking around my son’s cozy Los Angeles neighborhood with its Tesla-lined driveways and stunning telescopic views of the Hollywood Hills, I noticed the neighborhood had its eyes on me.
Stepping from house to house and street to street, I encountered a friendly, disembodied voice. “Hi!” she said, “You are currently being recorded.” Never mind I was in the middle of the road.
At night, the same walk triggered a bright light beaming from garages and closed front doors, as my movements tripped motion detection recorders en route. Fenced dogs barked furiously and signs warned of “armed response.” I began to think of the rising palm trees as guard towers.
