The warning

Checked my inbox this morning. One new email. No subject, no sender. Just a single attachment: a text file.

Inside, four words:
“They know your face.”

I’ve taped over my camera before, but tonight I went further. Broke the lens. Smashed the mic. Unplugged everything I could. The laptop still boots, but it feels like a corpse now — mutilated, silent.

And yet, I can feel them staring anyway. Every reflective surface feels like an open lens. Windows. Screens. Even a dark cup of coffee.

Email header dump:

[08/23/2021 08:16]  
FILE: warning.txt  
CONTENT: “They know your face.”  
HEADER: <none>  
STATUS: metadata erased  

I’m saving this here because if the file disappears, maybe the blog will catch it. They want me paranoid. But all they’re doing is showing me where to look. And paranoia has an edge: it makes you careful.