World Issues - 9th grade Plurilingual Creative Writing Anthology

Digital World

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“The Young Hacker”

by Michael Kalache

Olajide was about 10 years old when this story started, and he lived with his mom, Jada,
and his older brother, Jordan. His dad left the family when Olajide was only 3 years old, and
ever since then his mom has had to work 3 jobs, but they were still very poor. Because of their
financial situation, they had to live in Berkeley (a poor part of it) , but they went to a private
school because the principal knew the mom and wanted to help out. Sadly, this is where the
problem began because Olajide’s family and all the other kid’s families had very different
lifestyles, and Olajide was not treated fairly because of that. Olajide wasn’t a very social kid, but
he still had high hopes when he first came into his school and thought he could make some
friends, but unfortunately that was not the case. He was called all sorts of names because of his
financial situation and also because of the fact he didn’t have a father around. Olajide had to go
through most of his childhood being bullied, and he knew there wasn’t much he could do about
it because of his age. He never lost hope though, and he even had plans to help out his family a
lot when he got older.

A couple of years later, Olajide was in high school, and he still had the same problems
from before. He was relentlessly bullied and he didn’t have any friends either. One day, Olajide
decided that he’s sick of it and when he got home he went on the internet to see if there were
any jobs he could do to help out his family. Sadly, because he was only 14, there weren’t any
places where he could work. After looking for a couple of hours, he randomly found a video
about coding, and he actually got very interested. Since Olajide quite liked the topic, he decided
it would be something he would do in his free time to free his mind, and also something he
would have fun with.

A few months later he had gotten pretty good at coding, and he had a lot of fun with it.
He made many different types of games and codes, and it was something he genuinely enjoyed
doing. One day, he randomly saw someone logging into their gmail account, and that made him
start to think about possibly making a code that would get people’s login information, so when
he got home from school he started working on it. After some weeks, Olajide had finished the
code and he began using it for little harmless pranks, such as telling his brother he could guess
his password.

Then, he had a serious realization… He could use this code or a similar one to get free
things from websites or even to get virtual money. Since he was so fed up with all the bullying

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he had gone through, without any hesitation he started doing just that. He did this for weeks and
even months on end, and dedicated all of his time to coding and becoming better at it. He also
opened a bank account (illegally) and started saving and putting all of the money he made into
that account so he could one day take it all out and help his family. Olajide also decided not to
tell his mother and brother about his hacking, because he knew they would try to stop him.

After two months, the police tracked him down, went to his house, and arrested him. His
mother and brother were both shocked, and he didn't have time to explain himself before
leaving home. At court, he was sentenced to one year in “juvie” (juvenile hall) and a lot of
community service. Obviously, this wasn’t ideal, but the sentence could've been much worse if
he had been older. After he got out of juvie, his family by then had obviously found out why he
did it, but everyone else in his neighborhood or at school just assumed he was a reckless
teenager with bad intentions. In reality, he was simply just trying to help his family.

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“Sans issue?”

by Noa Azoulay

C'était un Samedi, vers la fin de l’automne. Les nuages gris roulaient dans le ciel, sous
la poussée du vent qui sifflait dans les arbres. Je suivais ce chemin comme tous les soirs à la
même heure en rentrant de l'école; j’admirais ce magnifique tableau que formait le ciel de
l'après midi. Je m’appelle Laura, j’ai 15 ans, je suis plutôt petite comparée aux autres élèves de
ma classe, j’ai les cheveux blonds et des taches de rousseur sur le nez qui s'étalent sur mes
petites joues rondes. Je suis fille unique; ma mère s’appelle Sarah et mon père Jonathan. Je
vais à l’École alsacienne dans le 6ème arrondissement de Paris. La plupart de mes amis sont
des garçons, dont je suis plus proche que des filles. Dans mon collège, les filles me décrivent
comme un garçon manqué plutôt qu’une fille, ce qui tend à me perturber. Paul est mon meilleur
ami. Je le connais depuis toute petite; on partageait la même nounou, lui et moi.

Arrivée à la maison, j'enlève mes chaussures, me coupe une pomme dans la cuisine,
me dirige vers le salon et m’assois sur le canapé. Je me connecte sur les réseaux sociaux,
consulte mon portable et observe les photos que postent toutes les autres filles quand elles
sont en boite ou quand elles sont au parc. Elles racontent leur vie entière sur les réseaux. Moi,
c’est pas trop mon truc; je ne poste jamais des photos de moi, mais j’aime regarder celles des
autres. Dans mon collège, il y a un groupe de filles: Milla, Sarah, Chloé, Hilonas, Hillary et
Marine. Elles sont six et ce sont de vraies pestes. Elles ne peuvent rien faire sans leur
téléphone et sont plus superficielles les unes que les autres. Moi qui ne suis déjà pas très amie
avec les filles en général, je le suis encore moins avec elles. Je ne les aime pas du tout; elles
adorent critiquer les autres et les insulter sur les réseaux, et je fais partie de leurs victimes. Je
me fais harceler tout le temps par ce groupe de filles, juste parce que je suis différente, parce
que je suis pas comme elles.

Franchement, je ne comprends pas! Mon père travaille toute la journée et rentre vers
onze heures du soir, après que je sois couchée, et ma mère est alcoolique. Autant dire que je
n’aime pas rester auprès d’elle... ça m'attriste de la voir dans cet état-là. Je parle à personne de
ma situation et encore moins à mes parents; je suis très réservée et j’ai honte de leur dire. Je
monte dans ma chambre, je ferme la porte a clé, je me planque sous ma couette et je lis les
insultes que j’ai reçues aujourd’hui. Je tombe sur des messages disant: “Pourquoi tu existes?”
ou encore “Tu sers à rien, rentre chez ta mère!”. Je ne sais plus quoi faire de ces messages;
j’ouvre mon ordinateur et je cherche combien d’enfants sont victimes de harcèlement chaque

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année. Je tombe sur près de deux cents millions d’enfants. Chacun raconte son histoire. la
plupart décident de quitter le monde et disent qu’ils seront plus heureux ainsi. J’inspire
profondément. Je n’ai pas le temps de réfléchir; j’ai déjà pris ma décision. Je vais dans la salle
de bain, je m’enferme à clé et je m’assoie. Devant moi, c'est le noir absolu.

105

“The Second Chance”

by Colin Cecil

Gary was a very proficient computer programmer who was able to hack into many
different systems by the time he graduated university. He tried to break into a database at the
age of 23, but got caught and sent to jail. He renounced criminal activities, but he still used his
skills for little things, like putting a virus inside Starbucks’ delivery system to get free coffee.
Gary’s work was simple: he had to try his best to hack into a company’s app and if he
succeeded, he had to tell the company how he did it. He always succeeded because the
applications had poor security. His work was almost too easy for him; he wanted something
more satisfying.

Ever since he was released from jail, Gary had an ambitious project; he planned to hack
the presidential elections. As he walked home, he thought about his final move, which was to
swap the votes of the two candidates. But for now, Gary had to work on making sure his
program entered the database undetected. He sat in front of his computer and started working.
His mind was elsewhere; he was thinking about his younger cousin Josh, who was staying with
him because his parents were on a business trip. Gary didn’t want Josh to know what he was
doing, yet his cousin knew enough about programming to figure out what was going on. This
meant that Gary had to work fast. He checked the estimated time for the end of the vote count,
and tried not to think about his past.

At eight-thirty pm, he sent his program in. The specially designed virus waits until the
votes are counted, then it inserts the desired candidate’s name in the winner’s data slot.
Suddenly, Gary’s computer screen went black and the computer rebooted, but with nothing on
the hard drive. Gary’s program had been wiped from his computer along with all of the other
things he was working on. There was a violent knock on the door and Gary heard “Police! Open
the door and put your hands in the air!”.

Gary’s program had been detected. He reluctantly opened the door and presented his
hands to the cops for them to handcuff him. Josh was looking at him from his room with a
disappointed expression on his face.

Two years ago, Gary was given another chance. This time, he didn’t think he’d get
another one.

106

“Human...Kind”

by Dayne Kovatchev

That one remark
That one joke
That one comment
That one share
That one post
That one sentence
That one word

It might seem funny
It might see harmless
It might see okay

It’s not…

Bullying is wrong
You do not have the right to judge someone without being them
You do not have the right to insult someone without being them
You do not have the right to hurt someone without being them

You have the right to be...
Compassionate
Empathetic

And most important of all…

Humane

107

“Social Media and Access to Water”

by Maeve Mc Auley

Some people would say I’m rich. Others might claim otherwise. I believe I am. I have a
telephone. This square of rich technology alleviates any boring day, and I couldn’t be happier.

I acquired this gift at the age of 18 years old. It was a hot autumn day where the wind
ceased to flow across the sky and the air was lacking it’s crisp feeling. The air was instead
replaced by suffocating humidity. Like always, I was collecting the dewy clothes from the
laundry line while the sun rose from the earth. As its golden rays hit my face, my world got a lot
harder. Or was it hotter? I got up and made my way to a bumpy road towards town.

This ordinary day wasn’t so monotonous; it was my birthday and the whole town knew it.
People around me chanted songs of happiness and good luck as I passed by their houses on
my way to work. Nothing felt amiss until I arrived and birds flew up around me revealing
something ahead.

Soon, a deep emptiness filled my gut; the words in front of me made me panic and . . .
squirm and feel . . . cold, even on a warm day. The words of dismissal on the pink paper in front
of me, told me that I would have to go back home. I wouldn’t be working today.

On my way back to bed, the once joyful town around me became still and empty, aside
from the few livestock or mischievous children scurrying around the place, the scenery stood
still, holding its breath. I didn’t think too much about this because I was too tired, too weary, not
feeling up to the task of searching. I soon arrived home alone.

Once I walked into the kitchen, a cooling shade came to greet me and my shoulders
seemed to dip a little bit. What I found on the table amazed me. Lying there was a box and a
card, lying against the gift’s tattered looking corners. I aimed to pick the box up first. It had been
so long since I received a gift. I tucked my fingernails under the top and lifted it up with
anticipation. What I found underneath was a pleasant surprise. I had finally gotten a phone! I
had been hoping for such a gift. Waiting to finally fit in to the technology trend around town.

It was icy cold on the palm of my hand, and smooth metal on my fingertips as I held it
tightly in my fist. This phone was mine for the keeping.

I ran around the back of the house, and I headed for the neighborhood treehouse where
my friends were supposedly waiting for me. They were nowhere to be found; they were not in
the little wooden box itself, not around the base of the tree, and not even in the river that was
behind my favorite golden wooded tree.

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I sulked back home. Why had I been so foolish to assume? I knew that they were
already all at work.

The next day, I walked half a mile to our popular ‘internet cafe’, Fizzed. It seemed that I
had nothing else to do after breakfast. My phone became my only comfort and I started
browsing the internet, to distract me as I sat on a bench in the little pink-walled cafe. I looked at
the application of the phone’s settings and made a password. I had heard, from a few other
town’s people, of an entertainment ‘website’, as they called them. In the Safari application, I
troubled my mind to remember it’s name: Youloo? Toolou? Youtoo? Yootob? Youtube? When I
saw the bright red logo of Youtube, I nearly screamed with excitement. What a strange name. I
browsed around until I found an interesting looking video about the history of cheese. I spent
every minute possible, from there on, watching videos of people doing strange stuff. They were
dressing up to play, eating strange foods, and even teaching crafts.

By the end of the day, while the sun was setting, I decided to start my journey home.
When I shut the front door of our house, my mother called me. She asked about the
dinner, since she, herself, had been working, and it was my job to make dinner for my family.
That same feeling of cold came over me. I hadn’t taken the time to eat, work, or clean. The day
had passed in a matter of videos at the cafe.
She came to punish me. What were they to eat? I hadn’t bought food in the market, let
alone make the journey to the water pump. My mother was desperate. Hungry. My sisters and
brothers were also hungry and each came to slap and punish me for my carelessness. All we
had to eat that evening was one cooked banana. I got the last morsel. I didn’t get anything to
drink. We all went to bed with throats as dry as the sand at our feet.
I might have the internet with all it’s luxurious entertainment, but I still ache to have
water, and food, and shoes.
I have lost my job, lost the trust of my family; I have almost lost it all.
My name is Cayman and I’m from a small village in Africa, hours away from water, but
seconds away from the internet.

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Special Thanks

Hélène Guedin
Alexandra Haupt
Elizabeth Hallford
Paulin Andurand
Krystal Mendez

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