Hack House

Tegan held up the oversized metal water bottle in a hideous shade of chartreuse that she despised.

“Okay, guys, I know I said I was sold out, but the awesome people at HyperHydro sent me this case of these beautiful greenish-yellows that just dropped!”

Tegan peered at her phone screen, and into the camera to her audience of 6,742 people. Not a bad turnout for a Wednesday afternoon. Her eyes could not keep up with the string of comments, heart emojis, and flowers followed by a quick succession of “cha-ching” sound effects – the sound of her rent being paid.

“Oh my gosh, guys, thank you so much! Yes, jump now! These will not last long. I am not lying when I say that HyperHydro knows what they are doing with these! $49.99, which is a very competitive price for these.”

The truth was, these bottles were absolutely not worth $49.99. They used to be $18.00 retail price several years ago, where they collected dust on superstore shelves. But once the HyperHydro company started gaining traction with young, hot, female influencers, you couldn’t walk on a college campus without seeing every color of the color wheel in the form of an obnoxiously large HyperHydro water bottle.

She grabbed another one and shook both of them like pom-poms.

“These are an investment, they literally last forever.”

Last week, Tegan’s own HyperHydro broke as soon as she accidentally dropped her hot pink one. She didn’t write it off as a major loss though, because one, she got it for free as an influencer gift from the company, and two, she really felt indifferently about the product she had acted so passionately about. She was always very skilled in that regard.

When Tegan graduated with a communications degree last summer, the job market for new grads was abysmal. Serving tables at the local chain bar and grill made her way more cash than the entry level positions she did find. She hated that she was great at serving tables; when a customer ordered an appetizer, she could convince them to order three more.

“Might as well try as many as you can! They are all so good,” she would say to customers about microwaved nacho cheese “food product” and frozen morsels of pickles, jalapeños, and even mushrooms coated in a thick, beige batter and deep fried to oblivion.

The drunk idiots she would bring beer after beer to were disgusting and annoying, but most and best of all, very stupid. All she had to do was bat her eye lashes, laugh at their sexist jokes, and compliment the jersey or baseball cap that the oaf of the hour may be wearing, and she would easily make $50 an hour on a slow night.

One night, a particularly drunk, particularly gross man grabbed her around the waist, while she was doing everything in her power not to lose the “sale” and not squirm away in disgust.

“Gorgeous, I will buy whatever you are selling,” he slurred as he slipped her a $100.

It was in that moment that Tegan was reminded that it wasn’t waiting tables she was so good at – it was selling. She also had pretty privilege; Tegan was not a girl to deny her good looks. She inherited her big blue eyes and thick, wavy, reddish-blonde hair from her mother who was also good at selling – drugs and her body.

“You’ve got pretty privilege, Teeg,” she had remembered her mom saying, cigarette in mouth flicking the almost dead lighter. “You can get people to do what they want, hell, you could sell ice to an Eskimo.” Tegan was beautiful and was treated differently because of it. However, she refused to rest on just her looks and was determined to become successful and make something of herself.

When her mom died of a heroin overdose when she was 18, Tegan graduated high school early, applied for scholarships, and was able to attend the nearby state college. Throughout college, she supported herself by waiting tables, and now, even after college with a degree, was in the same place. No promotions, no projects, no conferences – just finding new ways to swindle sad, drunk, middle-aged men. It wasn’t until another server at the restauarant, a perky, petite brunette named Sara explained “influencing,” did Tegan find a way out.

“Yeah, you just become a creator and if you’re cute and have a lot of followers, then you get brand deals. I made $1,000 selling lip liners for thirty minutes last month. It can be hard to keep up with, but it’s great cash. I just like posting to be honest. Selling is too much work,” Sara had explained to Tegan at work one night.

Tegan raced home after work and researched the fastest, easiest way to get brand deals. Even though it went against what she had always believed in, not to rest on her beauty, she posted onto all of her social media accounts some selfies in a bikini, which she dubbed “bikini of the week.” Then, she added videos of her doing viral dances in a sports bra and spandex booty shorts, and her follower count shot up from 440 to 4,000. She knew she could do better than that.

After posting daily to all social media accounts, she had reached a following of 50,000 people. Again, she craved for more, but she finally had enough followers to start selling products to her followers. The constant praise was something that Tegan had been used to her whole life, but the obsessed comments from strangers on the internet gave her a rush, not a repulsion like her IRL customers at the restaurant, where she had gladly quit months ago.

HyperHydro signed Tegan to a contract based on her following and the fact that she perfectly fit the look of a HyperHydro influencer perfectly. She signed with other brands too, but selling HyperHydro was definitely the most lucrative product.

Now, as her fully made-up face stared back at her from her phone screen, Tegan said to the 6,742 strangers, “Okay, everyone, I have to go now, so for the last minute of my livestream, I am reducing the price to $39.99! I guarantee this is the cheapest price you will see all day!” Tegan continued to lay on the charm as she said, “I’m the only influencer that decreases the price by this much!”

Her phone screen seemed to malfunction at the speed at which the viewers were responding and purchasing their own chartreuse HyperHydro.

“Not again,” she groaned when she noticed that her screen was completely frozen due to the overload of responses and purchases.

When she went to grab her phone from the tripod, she noticed on her frozen screen that someone had given her a $1,000 tip with a message attached that said, There’s more where that came from. Check your DM’s. Tips on her livestreams were very common, but the average tip was anywhere from $20-$100, not unlike her serving career. She read the username: gio_roxx232.

When she manually logged back into the livestream she said to the camera, “You guys! You crashed my live again! Honestly, it’s a good problem to have,” she laughed and held up the HyperHydro into a “cheers” position.

“I really do have to go now guys, but I promise I will be back tomorrow with more stock!” She made a heart shape with her hands, blew kisses, and signed off. Eagerly, she went to her messages and scrolled to find the message from gio_roxx232.

Tegan,

I know you must have many brand deals in addition to HyperHydro. My team and I do not deny that you are a beautiful, talented saleswoman, but we believe that we can take you further in your career as an influencer. If you would like to triple, yes triple, your salary and follower account, please click on the link at the end of this message. We do not do this often, but our team has decided you would be a perfect fit to be a part of our Hack House family. More information will be provided here.

Thank you for your time, and we hope to work with you soon.

Sincerely, Gio from Hack House

Tegan took a deep breath as she re-read the third sentence again – triple. While Tegan greatly preferred brand deals and influencing to serving, she never really considered it to be a permanent career. She made good money now, but just a year working at Hack House, whatever that was, and she would be set for life.

“I’m not going to sign anything,” Tegan said as she touched the blue here with the tip of her finger. A white screen and loading wheel appeared on the screen of her phone, where the loading wheel continued to spin for 30 seconds. Then a minute. Then two minutes.

“Ugh, it’s probably a scam,” Tegan said as she closed out the tabs and tossed her phone onto her bed, wondering if the $1,000 tip was even legit. She began stretching and practicing some yoga poses when she heard a loud BEEP from her phone that she had never heard before. Nervous, she walked to her bed to pick up her phone where she saw a notification in all caps: WELCOME TO HACK HOUSE.

“What?” she said aloud to her phone. As if in response, a new notification appeared:

NOW THAT YOU ARE PART OF HACK HOUSE, IT IS TIME FOR YOUR ORIENTATION. TWO REPRESENTATIVES WILL ARRIVE SHORTLY.

All the color drained from Tegan’s face. Representatives? Arrive? She began investigating her phone, and nothing else seemed to be amiss. Her contacts, her photos, her social media accounts - everything was intact.

“No, no, no,” Tegan said, panicking. What had she done? Why did she have to click on that link? A link from a company called HACK HOUSE, who had obviously hacked her phone.

Tegan jumped as the blaring sound of the doorbell echoed in her bedroom.

“This can’t be happening,” Tegan whispered, trying to think of an escape route from her own house. Then, she heard the pounding of what had to be a large fist against the front door. As her mind reeled over what to do, she felt the vibration and loud CRACK of the front door being forced open. By the time she knew it, Tegan was looking at two large men wearing orange ski masks and black sweat suits.

“Please,” Tegan whimpered. “Don’t hurt me, I can give you money.”

Tears began to fall down her face as she whispered, “Please,” knowing full well she could not fight off these huge, obviously dangerous strangers.

As one of them stepped closer to her she screamed and tried to sprint out of the bedroom. Immediately, the other grabbed her and covered her face with his hand. When Tegan realized the cloth in his hand had been soaked with chemicals, she saw darkness.

***

Ding.

Ding.

Ding.

Tegan recognized that as the sound of a post being liked. She pictured floating hearts behind her eyelids. That’s when she realized she was awake and her eyes shot open.

There, Tegan was in a bed, in different clothes. She was dressed in cozy, gray sweats and fuzzy socks. The room she was in was small, plain, and sterile. It looked like an empty dorm room with its only furniture being the bed, a single rectangular wall mirror, and a wardrobe closet on wheels.

Gingerly and quietly, Tegan stepped out of the bed.

“Not a good idea, Tegan. You need to rest before your next livestream!”

She jumped when she saw a tall figure in the doorway of her room – was this her room now? The figure was tall and skinny and had on all black except for a lime green ski mask.

Tegan didn’t know whether she wanted to cry, vomit, or pass out. Instead, she swallowed and said shakily, “What am I doing here?”

“Silly! It’s me! Gio!” The masked man said. “We are going to work together now, isn’t that exciting?”

“I didn’t sign anything and I was kidnapped from my home,” Tegan replied steadily, trying not to reveal how terrified she was.

“You are correct, my beautiful little goldmine, but you did click the link right? Well, we know you did. So, when you clicked that link, it allowed us to scan all of your information and how to find you!” Tegan could tell through his voice that this man was positively giddy to have her as his.

“I – ,” Tegan began, not knowing what to do or say next.

“Still not getting it, silly? Okay, so I am one of the co-founders of Hack House and what we do here is very similar to other collab houses you may have heard of,” Gio said.

Tegan had heard of collab houses before, where groups of influencers came together to buy or rent a house to create content. The viewers and followers loved it, but Tegan had always preferred working by herself.

“I’ve never heard of Hack House,” Tegan said slowly.

“Yeah, well it’s a big secret. We have some really big names working here! Walk with me.”

Reluctantly, Tegan followed Gio from her room down a narrow, windowless hallway lined with numbered doors. Gio stopped at room 24 and knocked. A gorgeous woman with dark skin and long, curly black hair who Tegan recognized opened the door. Tegan was shocked to see that she was holding a toddler, who she also recognized.

Gio said, “Nessa, this is Tegan. Today is her first day at Hack House. Tegan this is Nessa, but I think you already know that.”

Tegan did in fact know who Nessa was. She was a very famous “hot mom” creator who mainly did brand deals with kids’ toys and “mommy products.” She films with her son when she is selling the toys, but sells alone for all other products.

“Gio, this is my time with my son. Can this wait?” Nessa had a pleading look on her face, and was dressed in the same sweats Tegan was in.

Out of nowhere, Gio pulled out and extended a police baton. He held it up to her face in a threatening motion, then pointed it at her baby, a boy no older than one.

“Don’t be rude, Nessa,” he hissed.

With a look of sadness, fear, and defeat, Nessa began speaking to Tegan.

“Okay, so, when you clicked the link you ended up here right?”

“Right…” Tegan said still not understanding.

“So basically for the foreseeable future, you will create content for Hack House using the same socials you’ve always had. They weren’t lying when they said you’d triple your salary and follower count,” Nessa said, as Tegan remembered Nessa had at least two million followers.

“But, the money you make is held in your account, held by Hack House. We don’t know when we will see the money we earned - ,” Nessa was cut off by Gio holding up the baton again to her face. “But,” she quickly added, “we can technically get whatever we want with our money, we just have to request it. Clothes, makeup, skincare, workout equipment.”

Tegan stared into Nessa’s dark brown chocolate eyes, then looked at her son who had the same brown eyes and curly black hair.

“Wait, they kidnapped you and your son?”

“It’s not kidnapping, it’s transferring,” Nessa continued, “I transferred from Dallas to Hack House and my son is well taken care of even when he is not with me.” She held her son tighter and kissed his forehead as he put his little fist into his slobbery mouth.

“See, there ya have it, Tegan! Yes, you work with us, and yes, you live here now, but you can still get whatever you want!” Gio said, now collapsing the baton and putting it back into his back pocket.

Tegan stared blankly at Gio, still not fully processing everything that she just heard.

“Gio, please?” Nessa pleaded holding her baby closer still now.

“Thank you, Nessa, I’m sure you and Tegan will make a great collab one day,” Gio said dismissing her as he shut the door.

“Now, back in your room, you will find an outfit and makeup perfectly curated for your first brand deal with Hack House! Today, you will be selling these viral lip liners!” Gio said excitedly.

“What if –,” Tegan began, fully aware that the baton was probably only one of Gio’s favorite play things. “What if, I refuse to go on camera? What if I tell the audience I’m being held hostage by Hack House?”

“Tegan, Tegan, Tegan, I think you already know the answer to that, honey!” Then, like a sadistic magic trick, he pulled out a hand gun from a deep pocket on the side of his pants and held it up to Tegan’s head.

A single tear rolled down her cheek as Gio chuckled and said, “Well it’s a good thing you haven’t put your makeup on yet! Go ahead and get ready, my little star.”

Back in her room, Tegan opened the closet to find, to her horror, a simple, chartreuse sundress. There was also a full set of expensive makeup. Tegan focused on doing her makeup to hold back the tears.

“Perfect!” Gio practically screamed from the doorway. He was now carrying a tripod with a phone attached and a box set of different color lip liners.

Gio set up the tripod and handed the set of lip liners to Tegan.

“Okay, I think we are ready now. When you hear the beep that’s when the recording is on. Don’t try anything, or eeeelse,” he said in a taunting, sing-song voice.

Tegan looked down at the lip liners, looked up at the phone, and then to Gio who gave her the thumbs up.

Beep.

“Hey guys, it’s Tegan! Let me tell you about these awesome lip liners I have today…”