The Day They Illegally Collected My DNA
- Expat Scribe
- Nov 1, 2023
- 6 min read
Updated: Nov 13, 2023
A Case of Authoritarian Bullying
The Solace Journal Team posted this excerpt* from the book, The Invisible Cyber Bully, in commemoration of the International Day to End Impunity for Crimes Against Journalists (November 2) and the International Day Against School Violence and Bullying (November 4). In Britain, November 13-17, 2023 is Anti-Bullying Week.
The “Bully Book,” as we call the publication we sponsor, is fictional. However, it is inspired by real-life events that routinely happen to certain groups of people, particularly those who fight against social injustice, like missionaries, evangelists, human rights lawyers, social workers, medical staff in war-torn regions, political refugees, and journalists.
This chapter discusses one bizarre day in the life of Revienne, a civilian and former journalist, as she is hounded by the authorities for writing about discriminatory practices, racism, and corruption.
I owned a dependable pair of boots I used every day. Although I had a fancy version, I seldom wore it because it was knee-high and inappropriate for work. Unfortunately, even the most efficient work boots wear down. Although the exterior looked decent—no peels on the leather, no frays around the edges—I didn’t notice that the rubber base had worn down. I could feel stones jabbing my feet whenever I walked on gravel. So I went to the mall. I must have gotten there after work because I was by myself.
Thrifty Shoes
In my former life, status and fashionable brands were important. I had a glamorous profession with an unwritten rule that dictated not wearing the same outfit (including footwear) twice. Well, that’s over now. I’m free to be as grubby as I wish. Good thing because most of the luxury stores’ models I liked were all expensive. So I went to the frugal person’s store, Shooz-4-Less.
In Cirqonia, everybody wore basics, especially in the winter. That was one of the things I liked about my adopted nation. Nobody, except the wealthier immigrants from Hong Kong, cared what they looked like.
The Laceration
At Shooz-4-Less, I found a pair I liked: a suede model with an unassuming black fur trim around the ankles. I had to stick to black, so I could use it for work. Whenever I buy footwear, I usually stick my hand into the shoe to feel the interior’s material. Being right-handed, I slid my hand into the right shoe first.
As soon as I did, I felt a sharp pain on the tip of my right index finger. When I withdrew it, blood gushed out. It seemed like a lot, but if I were being objective, it probably wasn’t that much.
I hurried to the cashier’s counter, showed the store rep my finger, and asked for some tissues. That was how I estimated the blood flow. I usually have emergency Kleenex in my bag. So if I had to ask for more, it meant I had used up whatever I had on hand, and therefore, there was more blood than my supply could handle.
In my rush to find a rep, I had left the shoes and their box behind. Big mistake. When I showed the rep the shoe that “pricked” me, she couldn’t find anything amiss with it. In disbelief, I examined the shoe too, searching for an object that resembled a blade because it felt like my finger had been slashed with an X-Acto knife [1]. But my search turned up nothing. Both shoes were completely dry. No blood. Still, when I showed the rep the box, it clearly showed drops of blood.
In the US, if something like that happened, the customer would have sued the store. But in Cirqonia, we weren’t as lawsuit-happy.
I was so sure I’d find some sharp object in the shoe upon inspection. But since there was nothing like that, I didn’t have a case. I made a mental note, though, to have my finger medically examined.
Somebody from the Enemy camp must have switched the shoes with another pair and forgot the box. Well, they would need the right shoe if they wanted my DNA. They couldn’t get a sample from a medical source because I rarely went to the doctor, as I almost never fell sick. (That’s why I find it unbelievable and unacceptable that I keep getting sick in Pandorymia.)
I still bought the shoes but asked for a different pair. Thinking the rep might be an enemy minion, I had her examine that, too, in case there was another surprise waiting for me. I searched her face for some sign of trepidation as she put her hand into the shoe. But it was as blank as the canvas of an artist with painter’s block. Okay, so maybe she’s not “with them.”
Pursuing Evidence
Another mistake was that I chose the box that housed the new pair. I should have taken the one with my blood on it. I would have had some evidence and hung on to the remainder of my illegally extracted DNA. But that realization didn’t dawn on me until I got home. By that time, it was close to 10 pm. I was already living in Brixgon but chose to go to a mall near Agatzri’s house in Reiqlen because I craved a particular “westernized” Chinese sandwich only available in that area. So to justify going that distance for a silly but tasty bite, I opted to buy my boots there as well.
I thought about getting the bloodied box the next day. But the store staff would have already ditched it to get rid of possible evidence in case I sued them. Or, switched it with a different box with ketchup on it to simulate my blood. Or, the Enemy could have snatched it (with or without the employees’ knowledge). I let it go. It was too much trouble to schlepp all the way there for an item that could have already been swiped.
In hindsight, I thought about the wisdom (or lack thereof) in buying that particular shoe model after that incident had taken place. The purchase was a logical one at that time. It looked great, fit my feet well, and was the only one in the entire store I liked. Besides, it was just a couple of weeks before Christmas. If I had waited to buy a different pair, I’d have been thrust headlong into the holiday rush. Also, when the dead of winter struck and everything got snowed in, not even Santa could get to the malls.
The Medical Check
I wasn’t able to visit my go-to clinic right away. I was on day shift that week and had to switch with a colleague to get to my doctor’s appointment. By then, the gash on my finger had healed so that the scar was barely visible. Fortunately, I took a picture of it when it was fresh to show to the doc.
“That’s just a scratch,” she said but listened to my story. There was nothing she could do except take notes. She prescribed a tetanus shot, just in case.
Illegal DNA Extraction
What I gathered from that bizarre incident was that it was possible the Enemy had extracted my DNA using a sharp instrument hidden in the shoe. How could it have anticipated what model I’d choose, though? Well, it should have extensively studied my background and taste by that time. Otherwise, it’s a really crappy investigator.
I’m sure that, like hackers and online marketers, it used social engineering to predict what I’d do next. This tactic is not a secret and is widely used in digital advertising and online stalking. Another possibility was that the Bully coerced me to choose that specific pair.
Why would the Enemy need my DNA? One reason might be to plant it in a future crime scene to implicate me. But any scenario involving criminal intent would be subject to investigation and, hopefully, the investigators would see evidence pointing to the Enemy instead.
Or, the Bully needed it to direct a mode of torture to apply only to me, such as selective implementation or targeted delivery.
An example would be a virus designed to only affect a specific demographic—like Eastern European Jews born in the 1940s—while being disseminated over an area populated by multi-ethnic groups. The latter purpose is more logical and plausible.
Little did I know that my theory would be proven right soon, when I contracted several mysterious diseases and a non-medical condition.
TO BE CONTINUED.
*The Solace Journal Team published this excerpt from chapter 5 of The Invisible Cyber Bully —“The Bloodletting: The Illegal Collection of My DNA”—with permission from the author. Readers interested in finding out the rest of the story may consider getting a copy of the book. See below for details.
If you would like to comment on this article—or give constructive criticism, make suggestions, share your story, or be a contributor to our blog, please do so using this contact form. We keep our readers’ information private. Thank you in advance for your contribution.
Expat Scribe is the author of the psychological techno-thriller, “The Invisible Cyber Bully: What it’s like to be watched 24/7.”
The novel tackles the surreptitious bullying and illegal surveillance, DNA-extraction, psychological torture of, and experimentation on ordinary citizens by law enforcers, scientific laboratories, various “hidden” associations, and global authorities. Some chapters discuss the garden-variety bully from schools and neighborhoods. The book also features a primer on how to fight cyber bullying.
“The Invisible Cyber Bully“ is available on Amazon worldwide in ebook and print edition. For a list of bookstores in other countries that stock this book, click here.
Footnote:
1: A brand of cutter with an adjustable blade used in arts & crafts and professional artists’ studios
Photo Credits:
Mirror image: Logan Weaver @LGNWVRPHTO
Mask, bloody hand, globe: Ehimetalor Akhere Unuabona
Hand above a boot: Gabriela Fechet
Ankle boot: Kuro & Ardor
X-acto knife: imgix
Bloody hand (solo): Ryunosuke Kikuno
Feet on contrasting surfaces: Joshua Coleman
DNA fragmentation: National Cancer Institute
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