Hacker-Me

Bzzt Bzzt Bzzt

Incessant buzzing jostles me from a deep sleep and annoyance fills the void where unconsciousness vacated. I rub my eyes as the vibrations carry on, silence, then pick up once more. Everyone knows that I sleep during the day. No one would be calling me unless it was an emergency. Panic soon boots annoyance for the divers seat. What if something happened? My daughter is at school. Is she sick or hurt?

Hurriedly, I reach for my cell phone above my head. I’m blinded by the light emitted from the screen and take a moment to adjust to the shock to my system. When I can read, there are more missed calls, texts, and direct messages then I have ever seen on my screen at one time. I’m about to open my texts when a picture of a blonde beauty flashes on my screen as my phone resumes its buzzing. It’s one of my best friends calling me. And I’m puzzled. She never calls me, especially during the day. I answer the phone.

“Do you know your Facebook got hacked?” she proceeds to ask me. Hello, panic my old friend. I ask her to explain what it is going on. She details to me that she received a message from Hacker-me on Facebook asking to lend me some money since I was “down on my luck.”

“I knew it wasn’t you. One, I know you are dead to the world at this time and Two, you would never ask for money,” she chuckles. I rub a hand over my face, I ask her to block and report my hacker and that I would see what I could to salvage my account. She wishes me the best of luck and ends the call.

Sleepily, I try logging back into my account and succeed. Immediately, I get into the settings and proceed to stake claim back of my Facebook.

Reset your password?

I fumble with a temporary password and submit. I take a deep sigh of relief and assess the damage left in the wake of my social terrorist. Every single person in my friends list was contacted through messenger, either asking for money or asking help in resetting my password. A dating profile has been established and, already, I have asked a few men for their help.

Wow! Hacker-me is way more social then I ever want to be.

I get about a minute to process the damage when my account locks me out. Hacker-me has discovered that I am trying to reclaim my rightful place. Thus, begins the epic battle of Me vs. Hacker-Me. When I get an upper hand, Hacker-Me cuts me off. They are far more advanced in technology than I. Between calls and texts from friends and family to ask about what is happening, including my boss, I call my sister-in-law. Quickly, I explain what is happening. She confirms that she has been contacted as well and walks me through a tactic to reclaim my profile. Despite our best efforts, it is unsuccessful. However, I have changed the passwords to my other platforms and, despite the notifications that Hacker-Me has tried to secure them as well, they remain safe under my protection. I will not win the war, but my other territories remain firmly under my protection.

For hours, I am receiving many calls from concerned loved ones asking what is happening. I recall the affront more times than I can count and apologize. I am no longer fueled by panic, but with pure boiling rage. This unknown assailant wreaked havoc among people I care about. I feel a cocktail of guilt, anger, and a dash of revenge course through my veins. To minimize just collapsing in my emotions, I imagine all the horrible things that could befall this intruder to my social platforms. It brings me comfort, but my practical consciousness suggests we seek therapy.

Back and forth Hacker-me dance this waltz of control.

Reset your password?

Reset your password?

Reset your password?

Over and over I attempt to stump Hacker-me. I’ve reached the point where I include messages in my new passwords in case Hacker-me gets them. Most of them suggest exactly what Hacker-me can do with themselves.

After hours, I have to admit defeat. My Facebook is theirs. It was a valiant effort on my part but Hacker-me is more skilled and has a better advantage point. I continue to direct my concerned loved ones to block and report the account so that something can be done. My other platforms have remained secured for hours and I feel confident that Hacker-me will not get to them. I send a S.O.S to Facebook administration and receive absolutely no help. Not even an acknowledgement that I exist.

I grieve the loss of my profile. No more access to old pictures. No more shared memories. No more access to memorial pages for friends who have passed. The long road to saying goodbye to all this and, later, dealing with the realization how much this social platform played a steadfast role in my daily tasks, is just beginning.

You won this round, Hacker-me! Well played.