LOGINI have always had an almost pathological sense of paranoia. Ever since I was a child, I was convinced that the people around me were out to get me. Back in elementary school, when everyone was lining up for their student ID photos, I flatly refused to have mine taken. I insisted that the district office was going to use my picture for identity theft. The situation escalated so badly that the principal had to personally sit me down and spend half an hour trying to convince me otherwise. Then, there was the fingerprint registration system in middle school. The school required every student to submit their fingerprints to access the campus buildings. I was so terrified that someone would steal my biometric data that I literally rubbed the skin off all ten fingertips to make them unreadable. Even when my fingers were bleeding, I kept shouting that they were trying to steal my identity. I would rather climb over the school fence every day than cooperate. Every relative I had called me crazy. My parents were so fed up that they seriously considered having me admitted to a psychiatric hospital. I did not care. I guarded my privacy with obsessive determination, gritting my teeth and holding my ground all the way up to the eve of the final exams. Then came the day before the exam. That afternoon, our homeroom teacher, Tracy Collins, walked into the classroom carrying a metal lockbox. A warm, motherly smile spread across her face as she set it down on the desk. "Everyone," she said, "to make sure nobody forgets their documents tomorrow, I'd like you to hand over your IDs and exam admission slips for safekeeping tonight." She patted the lockbox reassuringly. "Tomorrow morning, I'll personally return them to each of you outside the testing center. This way, there's absolutely nothing that can go wrong." The class was deeply moved by her thoughtfulness. Some students even looked close to tears as they eagerly pulled out their documents and lined up to hand them over. Everyone except me. My hand clamped down over my pocket so tightly that my knuckles turned white. Cold sweat poured down my back. A sharp alarm bell was ringing in my head. Trying not to attract attention, I fished out a spare flip phone from my bag, ducked beneath my desk, and dialed emergency services. As soon as the call connected, I lowered my voice and spoke into the receiver. "Hello. I'd like to report a crime. My name is Charles. "I believe a teacher at St. Alden High is working with an identity-fraud ring and is planning a large-scale operation tonight involving examination fraud and identity theft."
View MoreThe moment the camera swept across the room, every drop of blood in my body seemed to freeze. Along two rows of metal shelves against the wall sat hundreds, maybe thousands, of transparent document bags.Every bag contained a young face, photocopies of ID cards, and high-resolution scans of exam admission slips. There were report cards from a student's freshman year through senior year and detailed family information forms so invasive that they were horrifying to read.That was not educational consulting. That was human trafficking with price tags attached.The camera suddenly zoomed in and stopped on a massive whiteboard in the center of the basement.[High-Value Student Targets.]Beneath the title were dozens of passport-sized photos. Next to each photo were handwritten notes in red ink.[Consistently high grades. Scores above university admission benchmarks.][Single-parent household. Mother sells seafood at a market. No influential connections.][Parents work out of town. U
"What if they still have a backup plan? You can't just leave everyone to die!"A wave of nausea rolled through my stomach. I was not a hero. I was just an ordinary person who had fought with everything I had and barely managed to protect my own future.Without hesitation, I held down the power button and shut the phone off completely.At last, the world went quiet.In the plaza at the intersection, a giant LED screen interrupted its regular programming with an emergency news bulletin. The anchor's clear voice echoed across the entire street."This morning, local police successfully prevented a major final exam impersonation operation. Twelve suspects have been arrested. Among them is a female teacher from St. Alden High, the head of an educational consulting company, and two accomplices who posed as examination personnel."Police recovered 52 forged admission slips and two signal-jamming devices at the scene."The broadcast switched to footage from outside the St. Alden High tes
The screen switched back to the area behind the school clinic. On the side of the metal lockbox in Ms. Collins' hands, the half-torn blue seal from Newford Educational Consulting stood out sharply under the sunlight.The fake examination staff badge I had pointed out the night before, the shell company's seal, and the triangular formation of the three men in black… Every single detail matched.My 'delusions' had been officially confirmed.This was not about me having a mental illness. It was a carefully planned impersonation scheme.The lead detective roared into his communicator, "Move in, everyone! Lock down every entrance and exit at the St. Alden High testing center immediately! SWAT team, intercept that unlicensed van now! Do not let them take a single student away!"Detain Tracy Collins and the three men outside the school gate immediately! If they resist, use force!"The command vehicle's doors flew open. Armed tactical officers poured toward the school from every directio
My eyes swept across every person inside the command vehicle. I wanted to make sure no one could approach me from behind.The officer noticed my defensive posture and frowned slightly. "Charles, there are only 40 minutes left before students enter the testing center. Without solid evidence, we can't just arrest a senior class homeroom teacher."I let out an icy laugh and pointed at Monitor 2 in the upper-left corner. "Look at the metal lockbox Ms. Collins is carrying."The operator immediately started typing, and the image zoomed in."When she collected the documents last night, that box had a single lock. Now, there's a tiny black bump attached to the side. That's a portable fingerprint lock."I turned to face the officers. "A regular teacher is holding student documents. Why would she install a fingerprint lock overnight?"The air inside the vehicle instantly froze. The lead detective's expression changed completely.My finger stabbed toward Monitor 3 in the lower-right corner
At the school entrance, Ms. Collins stood squarely in the center of the camera frame, dressed in a bright red T-shirt. She was smiling so hard that deep wrinkles spread across her face."Don't worry, kids. As long as I'm here, I'll make sure every one of you gets safely into the testing center."T
Dozens of replies appeared almost instantly beneath the message.[Ms. Collins, you've worked so hard for us! Kids like him should be forced into treatment!][Exactly! If he has another meltdown tomorrow and drags the rest of us down with him, I'm never letting it go!]I stared at the screen, my f
Silence.Dead silence filled the line.All the impatience and skepticism from before had vanished without a trace. The only thing left was the dispatcher's hurried breathing. A burst of frantic typing came through the receiver.When the dispatcher spoke again, panic leaked through his voice despi
The dispatcher let out a heavy sigh. His voice was filled with obvious exhaustion and impatience."I'll repeat this one more time. Filing a false police report during the SATs is against the law. What you're describing, the theft of students' identities, would be an extremely serious criminal offen
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