Chapter 2

"After investigation, graduate student Fiona, during the group meeting on October 23, 2024, obtained campus surveillance footage without authorization and publicly displayed a suspected AI-fabricated indecent video in an academic setting, severely damaging the reputations of Professor Robert and Bella—effective immediately, her enrollment is suspended pending further action."

The hearing lasted less than forty minutes.

I sat at one end of the long table, facing five people—two department administrators, two Academic Committee professors, plus Yusuf.

Robert didn't come. Bella did.

"Starting in September, Fiona kept sending me Twitter messages." Her voice was small. "At first it was just about the research project, but later it got more and more..."

She handed her phone to Yusuf.

On the screen, a string of chat messages:

"Why did you take my data?"

"Do you think Robert really values you?"

"I have dirt on you. You'd better know your place."

"I never sent those."

"The records are all here." Yusuf passed the phone to the committee for review.

"Chat records can be faked."

"You also said the surveillance was real." Bella lowered her head to wipe tears. "But the technical assessment says it's fake."

Dean Fisher, sitting in the middle, took off his glasses.

"Fiona, I understand you have grievances with Robert, but no matter how big the grievances, you shouldn't use this method. Professor Robert is a specially-appointed backbone of the department. His academic reputation relates to the development of the entire discipline."

"So whatever he did doesn't matter?"

"If you have concerns, you can report them through proper channels." He put his glasses back on. "Rather than using this... extreme method."

After the hearing ended, Yusuf handed over a stack of documents.

Enrollment suspended. Lab access revoked. Email frozen. Move out of dorms within three days.

"What about my experimental data? The stuff on the server."

"Research outputs produced using lab resources belong to the project team. Your access has been terminated."

"I did that work."

"We go by the rules."

I went back to the dorm to pack.

When I was moving the last load, Sophie was leaning against the hallway wall.

"Robert held a group meeting after you left." She said quietly. "He made us sign a joint statement—everyone present confirmed unanimously that when the video played, the image was blurry and the content was unidentifiable."

"Did you sign?" She wouldn't look at me.

"Everyone signed."

I carried my suitcase out.

"Fiona." She called from behind.

"Yeah."

"Why didn't you sign that statement? If you'd signed, at least you could have stayed."

"Because it was real."

She was silent for a few seconds.

"But nobody cares whether it's real or not."

That night I dragged my luggage to the underpass. The screen protector stall was still there, the folding table and plastic stools stacked in the corner. I set them up and arranged my tools.

My phone lit up. Mom's number.

"Fiona, the school called home. Are you causing trouble at school?"

"It's not causing trouble—"

"They said you defamed a teacher! Are you crazy? That's your advisor!"

"Mom, just listen to me first—"

"You talk! Your father and I supported you through graduate school, and this is how you repay us?"

"That Robert, he—"

"What Robert! If your teacher has issues with you, just improve! You pick fights with people! What if you get expelled? How will we show our faces?"

"I haven't been expelled."

"The way you're going, it's only a matter of time! Apologize to your teacher right now, you hear? Apologize, write a self-criticism, whatever—just settle this!"

"Mom, in that video—"

"I don't care about any video! Apologize!"

The call ended.

I crouched under the overpass, watching the car lights stretch into long streaks of light on the road surface.

My first customer was a middle-aged man wearing a safety helmet. His phone screen had a crack.

"How much for a screen protector?"

"Ten bucks."

"Cheap. I'll take one."