The Unidentified
out a few times in the past couple days. I couldn’t wait to tell Ari.
    I scrolled through to Recent Views and was surprised to see that apparently sponsors were an exception to the friends-only privacy setting. Protecht Securities and Trendsetter clothing had recently viewed my page. The Trendsetter sponsors probably had a policy to look at a page after a Game purchase was made in their stores. But why would Protecht Securities be interested in my content?
    Then, as I was logged on and watching, a new address popped up into the viewing field. Zeronet. I’d never heard of them, but they must’ve had sponsor status because they definitely weren’t on my friends list.
    As the eyeball icon pulsed slowly, I got a little spooked that someone I didn’t know was looking at my page at the same time as I was. It almost made me feel like they could see into my bedroom, right now.
    My notebook(r) pinged as a new private message appeared in my inbox.
    They’ve got their eyes on you now. And so do I. by
    anonymous The words jolted me deep like a static shock. I logged out quickly and closed my notebook(r). I was too creeped out to know how to reply. I didn’t think it was even possible to create an anonymous account on Network.
    Then I remembered the Illegal Arts Workshop.
    Obviously there were ways to get around the Network security systems. Anonymous proxies to hide the identities of the viewer. But I’d seen who had been looking at my page.
    Zeronet.

14 TRENDSPOTTER
     
    “Why aren’t you wearing your new clothes?” Ari asked when I met her for breakfast in Culture Shock the next day. Our mornings there were kind of a tradition. Or they had been, until she got cliqued.
    “I don’t know,” I said, taking a seat beside her. “It felt a little too dressy for school.”
    “It wasn’t. It was totally the look you need right now to get noticed.”
    I had been thinking about that anonymous private message all night, and I was pretty confident that I would prefer not to be noticed, thank you very much.
    “Did you get me my cream cheese steamed bun?” I asked.
    “No. I was there with you in that dressing room, and what kind of friend would I be if I fed you fat-filled steamed buns?”
    “An amazing friend?” I pleaded. “I’m craving one so bad right now.”
    She just shook her head. “Eat this. Much more healthy.” She pushed a plate with a green-tinged pastry over to me.
    The World Languages Department required students to order foreign food in the native language. It was supposed to provide us with the “experience of travel,” hich apparently meant being really confused and reduced to universal hand-gestures to express what you needed.
    to universal hand-gestures to express what you needed.
    Lucky for the Culture Shock program, the food was reeeally good, like worth-making-a-fool-of-yourself good. If you couldn’t learn the language, the alternative was making friends with someone who could order, that was another one of the “rainbow diversity” goals of the World Languages Department.
    I could squeak out enough Italian to order gelato, but Ari learned Japanese so she could order sushi and video chat with an e-pal in Kyoto so she should be like the poster child of the Culture Shock program. Mikey knew a brand of East LA Spanish slang he picked up from watching too many Hollywood gang flicks. They were pretty much my only friends, so I survived on sushi, pizza, burritos, and hamburgers. I wondered if it was also the aim of the World Languages Department that the socially maladjusted go hungry.
    I bit into the Japanese pastry Ari ordered for me. It was good but it wasn’t amazing.
    All Ari wanted to do during our “together time” was talk about strategies on how to get branded. I scrolled through my intouch(r) messages, but there were only some sponsor messages and a call-to-arms from Tesla. She’d found out who lobbied for the ban on her product.
    toy321: re: flipstream. message swarm PEDIAFIX.
    tell them

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