Codebreaker’s Revenge
The bell for first period had rung five minutes ago, but Mrs Gupta’s chair was still empty. The Grade 6 classroom at Diamond Star High School buzzed with noise—chairs scraping, boys whispering, phones beeping with fresh WhisperNet notifications.
Ayaan sat with his legs swinging under the desk, his phone hidden beneath his notebook. Lines of code scrolled across the screen as he typed with one finger.
“Dude,” Kabir whispered, leaning over and nudging Ayaan’s geometry box dangerously close to the edge. Ayaan pushed it back just in time. “Look at this!” Kabir tilted his phone. A purple dragon breathed fiery sparks and winked. “I stayed up till 2 a.m. for the fire effect. Tap its tooth three times—it shouts pirate commands!”
Ayaan’s eyes widened. “That’s awesome! How did you—”
A sudden click of the door cut him off. Mrs Gupta swept in, her dupatta fluttering. Phones vanished into pockets in a flash. The room fell silent except for one last WhisperNet beep.
Mrs Gupta began the maths lesson, chalk scratching fractions across the blackboard. Ayaan tried to concentrate, but his phone buzzed softly in his pocket—another alert from the trace bot he had built. He sneaked a glance under the desk.
A new post. A fake account had taken Kabir’s proud dragon artwork and slapped Kabir’s face onto a crying baby. Caption: “Kabir’s ‘art’ is baby stuff! Cheater who copies homework!”
Ayaan’s cheeks burned. He looked at Kabir, who was staring blankly at his notebook, eyes glistening with tears.
By lunch break the meme had spread like wildfire. Kids in the cafeteria giggled behind their phones. “Did you see Kabir’s baby face?” someone sniggered.
Kabir sat alone, picking at his sandwich. Ayaan slid in beside him.
“Hey, it’s just pixels,” Ayaan said. “Fake rubbish. Ignore them and they’ll stop after a while.”
Kabir forced a smile. “Yeah… you’re right.” He took a determined bite of his chicken sandwich. Ayaan relaxed and dug into his prawn pasta.
But “they” didn’t stop.
The next day Kabir looked hunted—red-eyed and jumpy. That evening Ayaan walked to Kabir’s flat, just a few buildings away.
“They’re saying I cheat on tests now,” Kabir said, voice cracking as he clutched a glass of cold lemonade. “And that deepfake video of me trashing the playground? The Principal saw it…”
Kabir’s mother walked in with a plate of snacks and glared at Ayaan. “I’ve told him a million times to stay off those gadgets.” She clearly blamed Ayaan too.
The following morning Kabir was called to the Principal’s office. He never returned to class. During lunch, hiding in a toilet cubicle, Ayaan read Kabir’s message:
“They suspended me for a week because of that stupid video!”
Ayaan clenched his fists so hard his knuckles went white. He knew exactly how those free online deepfake tools worked—anyone could swap a face in seconds.
That night Ayaan couldn’t sleep. He sat at his desk, laptop glowing in the dark, replaying the last few weeks like a program stuck in an endless loop. Someone had deliberately broken his best friend.
He pulled up the worst posts: ShadowKing07, TrollMasterX, MemeLord420. Childish usernames. Then he checked his trace bot logs again. Almost every bullying post had been made during school hours—from the exact same subnet: the school computer lab Wi-Fi.
Sixth-graders weren’t allowed laptops. Creating smooth, long deepfakes on a phone was nearly impossible. Whoever was doing this needed the lab computers.
Ten minutes before his school bus arrived the next morning, Ayaan called Maya, one of his close friends, who was also a classmate.
Maya lived close enough to walk to school. Quiet, round-glassed, always in the middle row—she looked harmless. New teachers thought she was “sweet but average”, until they graded her exams.
“Maya, it’s Ayaan,” he whispered. “I need your help. Actually, Kabir needs your help.’
‘I know he’s in trouble. Who’s behind this?’ Maya asked.
‘I think the bullies are using the computer lab. I need eyes in there today. Will you go there and find out who’s doing it?”
A long pause. Then, softly: “Of course.”
That day Maya skipped library period and slipped into the computer lab. She chose a seat with a perfect view, opened a blank document, and pretended to type.
Ten minutes later Ayaan’s phone vibrated.
“It’s Rikshit and his gang—Rohan and Vikky too,” Maya told him. “Corner computers. Laughing like crazy. He saw me and slammed every tab shut—but not before I saw Kabir’s purple dragon on his screen.”
Proof.
That evening Ayaan opened his laptop and muttered, “Time for TruthShield.”
He coded a simple browser extension in JavaScript that checked images and videos for pixel glitches and dodgy metadata—tiny clues of deepfakes. It wasn’t perfect, but it worked. Tested on the crying-baby meme: instant red flag—Edited with FaceSwap AI. Source face: Kabir’s official school ID photo.
Next, he refined his Python trace bot using Selenium. Same IP, same school lab subnet, dozens of bully accounts—all active only during school hours.
Still, he needed iron-clad evidence that the Principal would accept. What he had now would only get him expelled for hacking.
So Ayaan built a honeypot: a fake WhisperNet profile called “BullyBoss123” bragging about ruling the app. He added a harmless link to a “secret meme generator” that quietly logged browser fingerprints—nothing personal, nothing illegal.
Rikshit took the bait within hours. The logs captured his real username.
Ayaan zipped everything together—screenshots, IP records, TruthShield reports—and sent it anonymously to the Principal and school counsellor with the subject line: “Cyberbullies exposed. Please check evidence. Suggest a digital-safety assembly.”
The very next morning, the Principal announced a surprise assembly on online kindness.
On the huge screen she played the deepfake of Kabir “trashing” the playground.
“This video,” she said calmly, “is fake.”
She installed TruthShield, using the extension link that Ayaan had supplied, and ran the video through it. Bright red warning. Gasps echoed through the hall.
Then the IP logs were shown. Every trace led to the computer lab—and three specific accounts.
Rikshit went pale. Confronted with the honeypot evidence, he crumpled. “It was just jokes… we didn’t think it would hurt anyone this much.”
The bullies apologised in front of the entire school. Kabir’s suspension was cancelled immediately. The Principal personally called his mother and apologised. TruthShield was installed on every school computer. The school administration emailed a letter to all parents calling on them to make sure their children did not install WhisperNet or any other similar app on their phone. The notice also gently reminded parents that children were not allowed to bring their phones to school, but no one really expected that rule to be followed by any student over the age of twelve.
Kabir was back in school in an hour. He high-fived Ayaan. “You’re a real hero, dude!”
Ayaan smiled shyly. “Tech is for protecting friends. And we have to thank Maya first.”
They found her in the library, nose buried in a sci-fi novel. She looked up and grinned when they both tackled her with grateful hugs.
The very next week Ayaan, Kabir, and Maya started a new club: Ethical Hacking for Good. Kids learned to build trace bots and deepfake detectors. Kabir’s art page exploded with genuine likes and supportive comments.
On the last day of term Ayaan launched his new app—KindConnect. Real names only, positive posts only, no anonymity allowed.
As the “LAUNCH” button turned green, he whispered to the screen, “Revenge? Nah. This is better.”
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