In the gloom of the tiny bedroom, a young teen shifted on the thin mattress covering the concrete floor. He balanced a battered laptop on his crossed legs. The pale glow from its screen illuminated his school uniform hanging from a makeshift hook behind him. Placed away from the clump of ragged shirts in the corner, it hung proudly with not a single crease on its stiff fabric.

The teen, Ritesh, bit his nails as he stared at the screen. Anxiety was clearly written on his face. Tomorrow was the last day of the student council election race. His last chance to get rid of his most formidable opponent, Satyadevi. The thought of that proud elitist taking the coveted spot of student council president made his blood boil. A girl, no less.

He swore under his breath. He would take that bitch down and put her in her rightful place. A smirk made its way across his lips as his fingers clacked over the rusty keyboard keys. No matter, his plan would not fail. 

Ritesh stared at the page he landed on. A picture of a horned demon decorated the background. Red letters spelled out the name of the company “Xezbeth”. Below it was the company slogan, “Fake news at the tip of your finger”.

It was his first time using the website despite hearing of it many times before. He had heard there was a promotion going on this week which made the options affordable to him. He blindly navigated through the site, avoiding the flashy ads, and finally landed on the purchasing page. 

“Select target for fake news,” he read the instruction text out loud. He typed Satyadevi’s name into the input box and uploaded her photo from the school website. Next was a drop-down box that read “Select type of fake news”.

His mind spun as dozens of options presented themselves on the screen. Racism, political beliefs, morals, religion… he simply selected one.

After clicking through a few more pages, Ritesh got to the payment page. He sighed in relief upon seeing the 25% discount applied to his order. With a triumphant grin, he clicked “Pay”, letting the website suck in his money through his Google Wallet account.

Seconds later, an email popped up, confirming his purchase. It came with a statement of anonymity and protection from legal liability. Ritesh closed his laptop and placed it on the floor beside him. With this, he could have a peaceful sleep tonight. 

As he lay in bed with a wide smile, he dreamt of his victory and Satyadevi’s crushing defeat. No doubt the money would be well spent.

~ ~ ~

The next day, it was standing room only in the large school hall. Hundreds of students crammed into the venue to hear the final speeches of the candidates for the student council election. Ritesh, the current favorite to win the election, delivered his speech with conviction and passion.

Waves of boys shouted their approval as he outlined programs to help poor students and measures to curb the increase in feminism. His eyes glowed with glee as he clicked to the next slide to show the fake news Xezbeth had cooked up for him.

“Look at this, my fellow students!” he exclaimed in feigned horror and disbelief. “How can we let the likes of Satyadevi take charge when she has secretly sided with the extremists?!”

He shook an accusing finger at the fake article of Satyadevi collaborating with radical elements. Proclamations of outrage erupted from the student body, sending a thrill through Ritesh.

Die and grovel before me, Satyadevi, he cackled inside. 

After a few sweet seconds of revenge, he thumbed the next button on the clicker to advance to his concluding slide. When the computer didn’t respond, he frowned and pressed the button harder.

A loud electronic buzz filled the room. He spun around to see the large screen flicker before turning black. Confused, he beckoned to the tech support people behind the stage. They ignored him, their wide eyes staring at the screen.

It was then that he noticed the discomforting quiet that blanketed the student body. A sense of impending dread sent a chill down his spine. Gulping hard, he turned to face the screen.

Ritesh’s jaw dropped. His eyes bulged in their sockets at the sight of his own face on the big screen. 

“Are you getting this?” Fake Ritesh in the video clip said to the cameraman.

The camera zoomed out to fake Ritesh with his pants down taking position behind a donkey. Knowing what was about to happen, Ritesh shook his head violently. He spun to face his audience and yelled, “This is fake! Someone is sabotaging me!”

He waved his hands in desperation. “Can’t you see this is photoshopped?? It’s from a movie scene!!”

The moans and groans from the video clip drowned out his pleas. A transfixed audience soaked in all the depravity of the act. When the clip ended, boos resounded through the hall as his adoring supporters turned into an angry mob. 

“No, no, this can’t be,” he mumbled, backing away from them as crumpled paper and dirty shoes rained down on the stage. 

Two staff members hurried to drag him away before the student mob climbed up onto the stage. He barely registered their presence, his eyes glazing over in shock. His limbs went slack as he saw his dream disintegrate in front of him. 

The hands holding him abruptly let go and Ritesh found himself slumped in a rickety chair. His mind went blank as he tried to process what had happened. 

A snigger shook him from his thoughts. “I thought you always said guys are superior to girls, Ritesh.”

His gaze traveled up to meet a pair of cunning, brown eyes. “Satyadevi,” he whispered.

The girl bent down to his level until her breath tickled his ears. “You’re not the only one who can buy fake news, idiot.”

Ritesh paled. He stared at her, wide-eyed, as she straightened up. A mere girl had stolen his position. A girl. Crushing defeat slammed into him.

“Why?” His voice was hollow with disbelief. “Why did this happen?”

Satyadevi scoffed. “Why?” She pointed a condescending finger at him. “Because you don’t want it enough. You don’t have vision.”

Ritesh’s head spun. He didn’t have vision?

“But I do.” Satyadevi placed a hand on her hip and stuck her nose out. “It’s not just about being the president and bringing reform. It’s about showing my Papa that I should be the one to succeed him, not my idiot brother.”

Her eyes shone with determination. “It’s about showing the world that we girls deserve a place beside men. We will not be confined to the kitchen and the bedroom where you men think we belong.”

Satyadevi’s lips curled down in distaste as she eyed his sorry form. “People like you would never understand.” 

“Bye, Ritesh,” she wiggled her fingers. “I’m going to win this.”

Not waiting for a reply, she walked out onto the stage to deafening cheers and into a new era for increased women’s rights.

Alone backstage, a single tear rolled down Ritesh’s cheeks. He mouthed a silent “You win” to no one in particular.

But they were both wrong. Neither of them were the real winners.

Xezbeth was.